An unconventional trio

"I will defend you. Always."

Loki's POV:

As Barnes requested, I accompany Nova back to his suite. The door closes with a soft click behind us, the quiet settling in, pressing down on the space. Barnes isn't here. I'm sure he needed a reprieve after the confrontation with Rogers, the weight of it palpable on Nova's shoulders.

She moves silently towards the restroom, flicking on the light and starting the water in the tub as I take a seat on the sofa. The soft sound of it fills the silence between us, but it doesn't mask the heaviness in her steps as she exits and heads for the bedroom. She returns a few moments later, a pair of sweats in hand, her expression sullen, eyes distant. Seeing her like this pulls at something deep within me, a part I've long hidden. I want nothing more than to wrap her in my arms and take away the hurt she's carrying.

"Nova," I say her name softly, my voice gentle yet firm. She stops and turns towards me, her eyes meeting mine with that hint of vulnerability she tries to keep buried. I rise from the sofa, moving toward her slowly, careful not to startle her. My gaze remains fixed on hers. "I'm truly proud of you. For what you did downstairs. You defended yourself, you defended Barnes," I say, my voice even, offering her the reassurance she needs.

She clutches the clothing tighter to her chest, her head bowing slightly, weighed down by her own thoughts. "I shouldn't have gone about it the way I did. I... I was just so angry."

Without a word, I reach out, placing a finger gently under her chin, lifting her face so she has no choice but to look at me. "You have nothing to feel guilty about, darling. You didn't deserve what he did," I whisper, my voice firm but tender. Her blue eyes search mine, as if trying to find some hidden truth behind my words.

Her voice is small when she finally speaks again. "What did you mean earlier? When you said you took care of it?"

A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth, one that holds more secrets than words. Slowly, I raise my hand. "May I?" I ask softly, my palm hovering just in front of her forehead.

She hesitates, glancing from my hand back to my face, before giving a small nod. Her trust in me in this moment is something I do not take lightly.

Gently, I place my hand on her forehead, closing my eyes for a brief moment as I replay the memory—the conversation between Rogers, Stark, and me. In an instant, the scene unfurls in her mind: Rogers' rigid stance, Stark's guilt ridden gaze, and my anything but quiet, unwavering assertion. The matter had been handled, dealt with in a way only I could manage. The tension in their bodies, the way Rogers eventually relented, though still fuming with unspoken frustration.

As the memory fades, I withdraw my hand, letting her absorb the weight of what she just saw.

Her breath catches slightly as she takes it all in. "You really did all of that?"

My fingers glide across her soft skin, tracing the delicate curve of her cheek. Her breath hitches slightly as I push a stray lock of hair behind her ear, my touch lingering longer than necessary. Her vulnerability stirs something deep within me, the vulnerability I have so desperately craved she would give me.

"I know that I have been hard on you, little one," I whisper, my voice low and intimate. I watch as her eyes meet mine, searching for reassurance, for something to hold onto. The truth of my words resonates in the stillness between us.

A part of me longs to shield her from everything, to be the constant she seeks in a world that has been cruel. "However," I continue, my thumb brushing against the corner of her jaw, "I will defend you. Always."

I can feel the weight of the promise as it leaves my lips, a vow that goes beyond mere words. I have been hard on her, true. I have tested her resolve, pushed her boundaries—but it has never been out of cruelty. It has been out of something much deeper, a need to see her break so her strength flourish, to rise.