A Twist Of Marvel || Infinity War

88. Always

Naomi and Tony crossed over the complex's threshold, stepping out onto the grassy field surrounding the facility. Thor had instructed them to go to the courtyard, although seeing as the facility didn't have a courtyard, they had instead decided on wandering the luscious grounds in search of Loki. They walked side by side, making small chit chat to fill the air. Tony could clearly see Naomi's apprehension at seeing Loki again- her excitement mixed with nervousness making for an interesting display of fidgeting hands and wide eyes.

Tony hadn't had much time to think on the pair's relationship- which was very clearly more than friendship despite Naomi's protests that he wasn't her boyfriend. His first impression of Loki had been less than delightful, as the man had appeared to be some sort of cocky, glory-driven psychopath over anything else. Though- and Tony would never admit this to anyone outside of possibly Naomi- he had found the God to be rather funny at the time. If Loki had remained the same deranged grease-ball that he had been in 2012, Tony wouldn't have even entertained the idea of him and Naomi being at all romantically connected. It was still odd to think about, but his perception of Loki had admittedly begun to shift before he had even encountered him again.

It brought a small smile to Tony's face, tuning out of Naomi's story about some drunken adventure on Asgard as he reminisced. Those first few days he had known Naomi were some of the most formative of their relationship, in his opinion. Endless hours of pouring over research, scrolling through her prophetic phone for information on anyone and everyone as they tried to hatch a plan to save the universe. It had been tiring, and more emotionally stressful than either would like to confess, but looking back Tony mainly remembered the good parts. The laughs, the drinks, and the little moments when Tony was able to see into Naomi's personality, to see what drove her to stay up late trying to save people she didn't actually know. And to some extent, Tony still didn't know. She was an enigma, Naomi Swanson, and he was sure that if he asked her, Naomi herself wouldn't be able to fully explain why she had been so willing to drop her entire life for this mission. But what Tony did know- and came to learn very quickly during their planning- was that Naomi was passionate.

He could remember so clearly, her speaking about every hero they discussed with vigor, bringing up their good and bad traits, their backstory and their beliefs. She was so determined that every hero was worth saving, and perhaps that could be described as naiveté, but Tony found it endearing. Even when they arrived at the more controversial figures, Naomi kept up her attitude, and went so far as to brand Loki as one of the 'heroes,' much to Tony's shock.

Naomi seemed different when she spoke about Loki. Perhaps it was the way she spoke quicker, or her hands moved wildly about as she described his motives and his childhood, or how her cheeks flushed ever so slightly, but Naomi had always held him in a different light than the others. It was the only reason Tony had considered teaming up with the man- he wanted to see if the newly reformed Loki was worthy of all Naomi thought him to be. Of course, the Stark hadn't decided that yet, but he figured that Loki was good enough to deserve a proper reunion with Naomi. He could give the God of Mischief a stern talking to about his intentions after Loki found out Naomi was even alive.

Tony hummed quietly in response to Naomi- still not fully listening. Instead, he allowed his mind to peacefully wander to what interrogation techniques he would use on Loki later as he appreciated the setting sun over the grass. He could ask Natasha later, he thought, before getting jolted out of his headspace by Naomi, who put her hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, I think that's him!" She gasped, using her free hand to gesture toward the edge of the clearing, where he could dimly make out a figure standing near the trees. He squinted, making out dark, form-fitted clothing and what appeared to be long, black hair. Not to mention the man's impeccable posture, evident even from this distance.