The Mission

Tower Universe - One-Shot - Loki x Natasha

Natasha Romanoff sits patiently in Nick Fury's office in SHIELD headquarters, waiting for him to explain her next mission.

Nick places a file on the desk in front of her and explains.

"You will be going undercover at the opera tonight. Intelligence tells us that a couple of HYDRA operatives are passing stolen, highly sensitive information about government secrets, and it's not just our government but a handful of powerful world players."

Natasha picks up the file and flips through it. "What kind of secrets? Some secrets are better exposed..."

"The kind that opens world leaders up to assassination and economies to destabilize," Nick explains. "Secrets that even you don't need to know, Romanoff."

"So I am attending the opera tonight. I could use a night at the theater." She shrugs as she continues to skim the file.

"That's not all. You will have a partner."

"I don't need a partner."

"In this case, you do. We’ve been running surveillance scans but we suspect they are using some sort of magic to conceal their identities and the information," he hesitates a moment. "You'll be going as a married couple with Loki."

Natasha's mouth flattens into a tight straight line, somehow even more serious than her usual expression. "Loki."

Of all people or gods to be paired with, he chose Loki. He’s a showman, not a spy.

Nick calls Loki into his office before Natasha can protest.

Loki saunters into the office with a flourish, in a full tuxedo with his emerald-green opera cape sweeping dramatically behind him. He flashes Natasha a smirk that dances between charming and utterly insufferable.

"Ah, my beloved wife!" he declares with theatrical warmth, one hand pressed to his chest. "Fury tells me we’re to enjoy an evening of culture—how delightfully domestic." His eyes gleam with mischief as he extends an arm toward her. "Shall we practice our affectionate banter now? I’d hate for our performance tonight to lack... chemistry."

Natasha doesn’t move from her chair, but the way her fingers tap silently against the file suggests she’s calculating exactly how many bones she could break before Fury intervenes. Her tone is ice. "If you call me ‘darling’ even once tonight, I will repurpose your dagger collection in ways you won't enjoy."

"Oh, but dearest, what kind of husband would I be if I didn't dote on my lovely bride?" Loki grins wider and leans in slightly—just enough to test her patience—before adding in a mock whisper: "Don't worry... I promise all my lies tonight will be for the mission." Pause. "Mostly."

Natasha rolls her eyes as she stands up from her chair and brushes past Loki. "Let's just get the information and get out of there. No need for any of your theatrics."

An hour later, Natasha is dressed and ready to go. She is wearing a long, black, fitted velvet gown with a thigh-high slit so she can still move and fight if necessary. She's hoping this will be a quick and easy mission. Recovering information with Loki should be simple, but knowing him...

Loki waits outside ‌the theatre for Natasha to meet him. As she steps out of the car, his mouth goes dry at the sight of her in the dress. His eyes linger on the slit that rises up her leg, a slow smile curling at the corners of his lips.

"I must say..." he says lightly, reaching out and tracing a finger over the fabric near her hip. "...black is certainly a becoming color for you, wife."

Natasha slaps his hand away lightly enough to be almost unnoticeable but hard enough to sting a little.

"We might be 'married' but hands off."

The two of them scout the lobby for their targets.

"There. The pillar. Something is off about them." Natasha motions with her eyes toward the suspected HYDRA operatives. "Don't let them out of your sight."

They are using magic to conceal their appearance and activity, but Natasha can read body language.

Loki’s smirk doesn’t falter as he smoothly withdraws his hand, though the ghost of amusement lingers in his eyes.

"Ah, but how will we sell this blissful union if you won’t even let me hold your hand?" he murmurs, leaning closer under the pretense of adjusting her hair—really just to whisper in her ear. "Though I suppose that venomous glare of yours does lend credibility to a long-suffering marriage."

His gaze flickers toward the pillar with lazy disinterest—a practiced act. But when he speaks next, his voice is low and sharp as a blade: "Illusion magic. Crude, really. The taller one keeps tapping their ring finger—likely activating whatever concealment charm they're using." He tilts his head slightly. "Shall we test their defenses? I could make their wine taste like sewer water..." A pause for dramatic effect before adding: "...or you could do something dreadfully efficient instead."

"Let's not draw any attention to ourselves. We need to get close and find the flash drive that contains the information. They are supposed to hand it off to someone here." Natasha scans the room looking for anyone else who might be out of place. "We need to get closer. Follow me."

Loki exhales dramatically but complies, falling into step beside her—though his idea of "subtle" is walking with the exaggerated air of a bored aristocrat, swirling an empty wineglass between his fingers like a stage prop.

"My dear," he murmurs under his breath as they weave through the crowd, "if we're to be convincing, you could at least pretend I’ve said something charming. A laugh? A fond eyeroll? Or—oh, I know—a simmering look of repressed desire?" He grins when she doesn’t dignify that with a response.

As they near the pillar, Loki suddenly snakes an arm around Natasha's waist (with just enough warning not to get stabbed) and pulls her into an obnoxiously affectionate dip—conveniently angling them both to peer over her shoulder at their targets. His voice drops to a theatrical whisper: "The man by the curtains just pocketed something. Either that or he’s thrilled to see us."

Natasha has been on plenty of stealth missions. She's no stranger to working with a partner and playing a role when she has to, but being paired with Loki might be a challenge. He is unpredictable.

The dip was unexpected, but even more unexpected was the flutter in her stomach when he did it. He picked up the hint of surprise on her face and smirked, pleased with himself for catching her off guard.

"I see him. Time for a conversation."

Loki brings her back up and they make their way to the man.

Loki keeps his arm wrapped casually around her waist, his steps still retaining that lazy air of an entitled aristocrat. But there's a different kind of tension in his frame now; the subtle alertness of a predator anticipating prey.

As they approach the man, Loki tucks a strand of Natasha's hair behind her ear with a deliberately intimate gesture, all the while murmuring under his breath, with a touch of playfulness, "A word of advice, dearest. If you're going to charm information out of someone, try not to look like you want to slit their throat."

She levels a flat look at him. "I've been doing this for years. I know how to handle missions and be charming."

Natasha's expression turns into a dazzling smile that she directs at her "husband."

"We'll get close and I'll take the drive. Watch and follow my lead."

She walks in the man's direction with Loki's hand still at her hip. When she is within reach of him, she stumbles and catches the man's arm to steady herself.

"Oh! Pardon me, sir."

Loki watches the seamless shift in Natasha’s demeanor with something between amusement and reluctant admiration. The man now caught in her orbit blinks, startled—before flashing an unnervingly eager smile.

"Madame, you must allow me to assist," he says, voice dripping with false gallantry as he steadies her—his free hand drifting a little too close to his inner coat pocket where the drive is undoubtedly hidden.

Meanwhile, Loki steps forward with exaggerated concern. "Darling!" He presses a hand over his heart. "Must you always be so tragically clumsy?" His fingers twitch subtly at his side, a tiny pulse of magic loosening the man’s grip just enough for Natasha to work unnoticed... before adding cheerfully: "Though if we’re apologizing for mishaps..." His eyes gleam as he locks onto their target's wrist and twists it sharply behind his back in one fluid motion. "...I do believe you owe us for that stolen government data."

Loki gave her enough of an opening to slip the drive out of the man's pocket. The two of them easily pull the man behind the curtain, concealing them from the rest of the guests.

The man stutters, wide-eyed. "Who are you? What is this about?"

Natasha looks at the small metal piece in her hand. A lighter. It's nothing but a lighter.

"Loki. Look."

She shakes her head as she holds out the lighter for Loki to see. They got the wrong guy.

Loki freezes mid-smug grin, staring at the lighter like it's personally betrayed him.

"...Well." He clears his throat, releasing the man with a pat on the shoulder that’s just a little too forceful. "That’s... unfortunate." The poor stranger scrambles away without another word while Loki turns to Natasha, his theatrical bravado cracking for half a second, revealing genuine irritation beneath. "I could have sworn he was—"

Then he catches movement over her shoulder: The real target, slipping out a side door with an all-too-familiar flash drive in hand. His smirk snaps back into place like armor. "Ah! There goes our actual thief," he murmurs, nudging Natasha lightly. "Shall we resume this marital spat in pursuit?" Without waiting for an answer, he grabs her hand and pulls her after the fleeing operative, adding cheerfully: "And this time, darling? Let's not accuse innocent smokers."

The two of them snake through the crowd towards the side door that leads to a hallway.

"That was ridiculous... I can't believe..." She is frustrated with herself for moving so quickly towards that man without confirming he was their target. He was speaking to the actual target, though, so she had reasonable suspicion. She'll shake it off, get the drive, and finish the mission.

They follow the operative down the hallway and up a flight of stairs into a private box. Natasha turns to Loki with a smirk. There's nowhere for the man to go from here with them blocking the stairs.

The man takes his seat. Natasha and Loki take the seats behind him. If they sit and wait for the handoff, they can get both operatives in custody at once.

Loki plops down in the seat behind their target, draping an arm across the back rest with exaggerated nonchalance. He catches the way Natasha settles next to him, so close they're very nearly touching, and he feels the oddest thrill in his fingers. It's... distracting.

He drums them absently against the velvet upholstery, watching the man in front of them like a cat watching a bird. He can't help noticing the way Natasha's shoulders are still tense from the mistake they just made. He turns to her with a low whisper. "Relax. It happens to the best of us."

"I'll relax when this is over."

The taller man turns to see who has joined him in the box. Loki catches a glimmer of the magic he is using to conceal his identity. This is absolutely their guy.

"Excuse me, this is private." The man sneers.

Natasha flashes a wide smile. "Oh, is it? I could have sworn this is where the usher told us to go... Honey, where are the tickets? We could just double-check."

Loki has to hide a smirk—and an unexpected flash of heat in his chest—at the sound of 'honey' from her mouth. It shouldn't affect him so much.

He plays along without missing a beat, fishing two tickets out of his pocket. "Right here, sweetheart." And then, since he's already acting the part, he makes a show of wrapping an arm around her waist—pulling her into his side without warning. "Why don't you sit in my lap?"

Natasha doesn't let the question rattle her. She just laughs. "Oh, sweetheart, this is not the place for that."

The man huffs out a sigh of annoyance and turns his back to the pair once again.

The way she so seamlessly rolls with it only makes him more determined to get a slight reaction out of her. He glances down at the skirt of her dress, his arm tightening just enough to pull her a little more snugly against him. He leans in close, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear.

"Not here?" he murmurs, voice just soft enough that it won't carry beyond her. "Then where?" His fingers run teasingly along the curve of her hip, just to test how far she'll let him push.

"Nowhere and never." She replies as the second operative they were waiting on slips past them into the box. They watch as he takes the seat in front of Natasha, next to the other man.

"Who are they?" The second man asks his companion.

"No one. An annoying couple. Pay them no mind." The first man answers. He lowers his voice. "Did you make the transfer?"

Loki's hand dips lower along Natasha's hip, his thumb running an idle path toward her inner thigh. He feels the way she stiffens, fighting back a shiver, and he has to fight the impulse to gloat. Or press a kiss to the hollow just beneath her ear. Both things would be completely inappropriate. He's getting ahead of himself.

He forces himself to focus on the conversation instead, his attention narrowing in on the words being passed across the box. "Transfer," he murmurs, his thumb pressing just a little more firmly into her skin.

"Not now." The newcomer whispers, tossing a glance at Natasha and Loki behind them.

Natasha looks around. They are above the rest of the audience, but there are guests in other boxes that can see into theirs. Even their private box is too visible if she makes a move against the HYDRA agents. She and Loki will just have to be patient until they find an opening.

She leans in and whispers to Loki. "We have to wait. We need to get them out of the sight of the crowd. Any ideas, or should we just wait for intermission?"

Loki's hand stills, and though he'd been enjoying the subtle heat that was curling up his spine at her proximity, he's grateful for the reminder to focus. He's here to do a job, not flirt with a woman he knows he definitely shouldn't flirt with... even if he can't seem to stop.

He takes a breath, pushing aside the lingering sensation of her skin beneath his touch. "Intermission, I think." He pulls up his mental map of the building, and a devious idea begins to form. "Or I might have an alternative."

Loki's smirk returns, sharper now—the look of a trickster with mischief brewing in his veins. His voice drops to a velvet murmur against Natasha's ear:

"What if... the fire alarm were to mysteriously go off? A harmless illusion of smoke near the stage—nothing destructive, just enough chaos to herd our little rats into the corridors. And then..." His fingers twitch subtly at his side, conjuring a phantom wisp of green-gold magic between them. "Poof. No witnesses, no mess." He tilts his head toward her. "Unless you'd prefer the dull way?"

The gleam in his eyes says he already knows she won't.

Before Natasha can respond, the two operatives glance back at her and Loki in annoyance because of their whispering or just their presence. Natasha is ready to push Loki away, but when they look back, she laughs softly instead, pretending he said something funny, maintaining their cover.

"Fire alarm. Let the others evacuate. We'll keep these two in here, get the drive, and then call in SHIELD to take them into custody." She whispers back.

Loki grins, pressing a dramatic kiss to her temple—purely for their audience’s benefit—before murmuring: "Consider it done."

Her eyes go wide for a split second, and her heart skips a beat, surprised by the kiss and even more surprised that she is not actually upset about it.

With a flick of his fingers, an unseen thread of magic snakes toward the stage. A moment later: sparks. A wisp of illusory smoke curls from the rafters. Then—BLARING ALARMS.

The operatives bolt upright in panic as guests begin flooding toward the exits. Perfect. Loki rises smoothly, blocking the aisle with all the authority of a man who definitely owns this opera house. "Terribly sorry," he drawls, not looking sorry at all as he herds them back into their seats with an invisible force-field of magic between them and escape. "Safety first."

Natasha stalks forward like a predator circling trapped prey—while outside, distant shouts and clattering footsteps echo through emptying halls.

The tall man with the flash drive isn’t going to settle down easily. He draws a gun from his hip under his jacket. Natasha kicks it out of his hand. She spins and elbows the man in the nose. He stumbles back, bleeding; the glamour charm he was using flickers. 

"Hand over the drive." Natasha doesn't want to waste any more time. "Then, we're going to take a little walk up to the roof."

She hopes they'll just comply and make this easy for her. She glares at the second man, as if daring him to make a move too. He raises his hands in surrender.

The operatives trade wary looks, as if they might have a chance against a highly trained agent and a god. Loki rolls his eyes, a touch of bored impatience in his voice. "I don't know about you, but I personally have better things to do this evening, like spending some quality time with my wife." He winks at Natasha, continuing the charade even if their cover is no longer needed. 

She sighs and shakes her head. Even she can’t deny his charm and good looks, especially in that tuxedo. She’ll never admit that though. 

The first operative bristles, glaring up at Loki like he has any say in the matter. "You can't just—"

"Actually, my dear," Loki interrupts, stepping past Natasha to tower over the man. "We can indeed do whatever we wish. And if you even think about trying anything else, I promise I will make you regret it in the most creative way possible."

Natasha doesn’t give them time to consider resistance. In one fluid motion, she snatches the flash drive from the operative’s inner pocket—just as Loki lazily flicks a hand, binding both men in glowing green restraints made of pure magic.  

"See?" Loki sighs dramatically, nudging one of them with his boot. "Was that so difficult?" He turns to Natasha, offering her an exaggerated bow. "Wife, shall we escort these gentlemen to their rooftop rendezvous with SHIELD... or would you prefer I simply drop them off myself?"  

Natasha exhales through her nose—half exasperated, half reluctantly amused—before gesturing toward the door. "Move."

The hallway and other areas are cleared of people thanks to Loki's fire illusion, and they have an easy path to the roof. Loki's magic restraints work well, and the two of them lead the operatives along. His hand brushes her thigh as they walk, and she can’t help the hint of pink that colors her cheeks. 

Nick Fury is waiting in the helicopter when they arrive. Natasha hands over the drive, and the two HYDRA agents are taken into custody.

"I see it went well," Nick observes.

"I barely had to fight at all." Natasha smirks, a little disappointed.

Loki watches from the helicopter ramp, a satisfied smirk on his face. He glances sidelong at Natasha, arching an eyebrow in amusement. "No knives. No witty quips. Barely even a devastating glare." He mock-shudders. "I'm almost concerned this mission was too smooth."

Nick gives him a wry look from the cockpit. "Complaining?"

“Not at all, director. Although Romanoff could have handled this mission alone. I’ve seen more impressive magic at a child’s birthday party.”

“Next time, I’ll remember that and save your talents for other tasks.”

Loki scowls, folding his arms across his chest like a sulky child denied a toy he wasn't that interested in anyway...

But then he glances at Natasha, and—just for a moment—one corner of his mouth quirks upward in a slight smirk. She might be able to handle herself, but she still needed him for this. Whether she'd ever admit it was another matter.

"Ah, but I did  give them the dramatic illusion of a fire. So, I'm sure you can hardly call my participation entirely useless."

With the HYDRA agents secured, Fury signals to the pilot to take off. Loki takes a step towards Natasha and rests his hand on her hip. He feels her tense up but not stop him as he leans in to whisper one last time. “Eventful date night, wife. I look forward to the next one.”

Before she can respond, he disappears into a shimmer of green and gold magic, leaving her alone on the roof.

She quirks an eyebrow and smiles. This night was unexpected, and she might even call it fun. She can still feel the phantom weight of Loki’s fingers on her hip and catch a trace of his cologne on the wind. “Next time.”