Doesn't Play Well With Tricksters

12 - Awkward

Rachael opened her office door and asked Loki to wait a moment. She ran in, grabbed a laptop and notebook and then motioned for him to follow her.

He raised an eyebrow, but quickly followed as she led the way down the hallway toward a newly remodeled set of rooms.

"These are the Magic Intensive Training Suites." Rachael turned to give him a half-smirk as she unlocked the door. "Stark loves his anagrams." She pushed the door open to reveal a room half the size of the training room the rest of the team used, with various sparring equipment littered, haphazardly, around the room and a single, large desk against the far wall.

"He expects us to train here?" Loki asked, wrinkling his nose in barely disguised disgust.

"No. He expects the team to train against us." She set the laptop and keys down on the desk and turned toward him. "Our training area and library are the entire floor above us."

"I thought the only thing above us was the helipad?"

"It was, but Stark had another floor built. Half helipad, half training and library." She shrugged her shoulders. "I think he started to warm up to you when he thought you were going to die."

Loki nodded, as if this made perfect sense and motioned toward the desk. "I take it this is your new desk?"

"Nope. It's yours." Rachael answered, booting up the laptop. "Passwords are listed here." She handed him the notebook. "I saved all my data and my notes to a shared Google File, so anything you find there is your copy to notate and edit however you want. Email contact info for every member of the team is saved onto your drive, as well as cell phone info for anyone who has one. Thor, for obvious reasons, can't keep one for more than a few days without frying it, so he's not listed."

Loki stared at her for a moment. "Do you honestly think I know how to work one of these things?"

Rachael opened and closed her mouth a few times. "I assumed, since you were able to manipulate my phone..."

"That required magic. This, is more Stark's department."

She sighed and motioned for him to sit, then pointed at each feature in turn. "Power button turns it on. Then it comes up with the lock screen, which is your first password. Use the mousepad "

She waited while he tried, quickly coming to the conclusion that, as far as computers were concerned, he might as well be her grandmother. He pecked at the keys with two fingers, fully typing in the password before realizing it was doing no good unless the cursor was in the white box she'd pointed out to him.

She closed her eyes and counted to ten, praying for patience after he lost track of the cursor. Twice.

"Here," she leaned close and took over, quickly clicking the white box and entering the password she'd set up for him. "I'll see if Stark can give you a basic rundown later." She mumbled to herself as he watched her quickly pull up the systems and files they would be working on.

He leaned in as close as he dared, watching intently so he wouldn't have to admit to the tech genius just how hopeless he was with the mechanical devices everyone in this realm loved so much.

She leaned back after pointing to which files she'd opened for him and started to step away.

"Wait," he reached forward, taking her hand in his to pull her back to his side. "Are these all your notes?" He motioned toward what little the screen showed.

"Not everything, no, but it'll give you something to start on." She reached forward to point at the top of one file. Just click here, on Review."

He reached forward to maneuver the coursor where she was pointing, then asked, in his most convincing I-don't-know-what-I'm-doing voice "Just press this?" With his finger hovering over the same button she'd used to open the files.

She nodded, trying her best to not look aggravated.

He pressed and waited for more instructions.

"And if you click on this little yellow box, it'll let you add a note wherever your cursor is."

He raised an eyebrow. "That's convenient."

"Just add notes anywhere you see something. I'll be back later to-"

He took hold of her hand and pulled her back again, "You're leaving? What if I have questions?"

"Just put them in your notes. I'll be back soon." She pulled away again.

"But what if I find something that won't wait?"

"Fine. I'll go grab another chair and something to drink."

He waved his hand in the air, making a tray appear, loaded down with glasses, a bucket of ice, sodas, and a decanter of dark brown liquid.

She sighed, admitting defeat, and reached for a glass, ice and soda. "Chair?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not that good at furniture." He gave her one of his lopsided, apologetic smiles and pulled her down to sit on his knee, resting his hand on her hip to steady her.

"Yeah, that's not going to get awkward." She grumbled. 

"Why would it get awkward? You barely weigh a thing." He answered, fixing his eyes on the screen and ignoring what else she might have meant.

Not even five minutes later she started wriggling, giving him the perfect excuse to move her more securely onto his lap and wrap his arm around her waist for good measure. "Better?" He asked, looking over her shoulder and resisting the urge to whisper directly into her ear.

After all, he was barely getting away with this as it was, that kind of blatant move would have been pushing it.

He couldn't see her face, but if the subtle change in her scent was anything to go by, she was feeling the effects of their close proximity as much as he was.