Unbroken (Loki x Reader)

Chapter 17 - A Realm Away

"That was great, Y/n!" Nat shouts from over your shoulder. 

Ejecting the clip and ensuring the chamber is clear, you set down the .22 and pull out your ear plugs. 

"Thanks, Nat! I think I surprised myself with this one." 

Taking off your range glasses, you reach up and hit the switch that brings your paper target back to you. As it flies closer, you spot a tight clustering of rounds right through the chest. 

You've gotten better.

Noticeably better.

"Hmm," you hum to yourself, holding the paper up to the light on the ceiling. "Not too bad."

"Not bad?" Natasha scoffs, flicking your hear. "That was perfect. I'm impressed. Last week you were only landing half the clip on the target at all."

"Ow," you laugh, batting her hand away. 

Natasha laughs and takes the paper from your hand, rolling it up nice and neat before handing it back. "Take that to Tony," she grins. "Maybe he'll finally let you do something other than firearms training."

"Oh...uh, yeah," you falter, taking the rolled paper. "Yeah, we'll see. Hopefully."

"Do you want to switch to something a bit bigger?" Nat asks, turning and scanning the various firearms laid out on the table behind you in the alley of the range. "Maybe we should do some distance work?" she says with a smirk, hoisting the heavy .50 caliber from the table and pointing it down range.

You're about to agree to the .50 cal when a strong wave of nausea comes over you.

Shit.

"I'll be right back, Nat," you say, pushing down the bile in your throat and making a dash out of the range towards the bathroom. You barely make it into a stall in time before getting violently ill, losing the small bit of breakfast you had managed to eat that morning. 

It has been a week since you found out about the pregnancy. And the morning sickness has only gotten worse.

"Y/n?" you hear Nat callout as she pushes open the door to the bathroom.

Oh shit.

You try to hold it in, but you can't stop the next wave of sickness, and continue to vomit.

"Y/n? What the hell? Are you okay?" Nat says, concerned. She jiggles the stall handle, but you've locked it. Still on your knees, you can't pull your head from the toilet bowl.

"Yeah, Nat, I'm totally fine. Ate something bad at breakfast is all," you say before retching once more into the toilet.

"Bullshit," you hear her say before she roughly kicks the door open, crouching behind you and gently rubbing your back as you continue to hurl.

After what seems like an eternity, the nausea passes and you stand. Heading to the sink, you rinse your mouth out and spit, looking up in the mirror to catch Natasha's skeptical and dubious look.

"I'm fine," you sigh proactively, grabbing a hand towel and dabbing at the corners of your mouth.

Natasha's frown grows deeper. 

"Don't look at me like that," you snap, tossing the towel in the linen bin nearby. "Seriously. I'm fine."

"You know, I've purposefully ignored all of this," she says, gesturing at your sweaty hair and tired eyes. "For almost a week. So out with it. What is going on with you? You've been sick for days, you're constantly exhausted, and no one seems bothered by it besides me, Steve and Clint."