Chapter Text
“I am not your personal babysitter, Tony.”
“I never implied that, I just asked if you could perhaps watch a dangerous criminal 24/7 to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself or anybody else,” the man of iron retorted.
“So, a babysitter?” the man before you began to open his mouth only to close it, defeated.
“Yes, I need you to babysit him, minus the whole cute, baby aspect of the concept.”
Rolling your eyes and sighing deeply, you turned your body to face the window. When you had signed up to work for S.H.E.I.L.D. you didn’t remember volunteering for this.
“I have worked on and off the field for six years and suddenly I’m involuntarily vonunteered for this crap. Don’t you have some sort of special prison to just throw him in?”
Tony answered your questions via facial expressions before uttering, “If we did, do you think we would be turning to you?”
You huffed. Facing Tony once again, you walked towards the long conference table, took a seat, and motioned for your company to join you. Placing both hands on the table in front of you on the table, you leaned in. Sensing a change in of tone from your body language, Tony stiffened and prepared himself for an interrogation.
“What even qualifies me for this job?” you start.
“You have been on multiple missions transporting criminals, your record for stealth is almost as impressive as Romanoff’s, and I have no doubt that you could snap his neck like a twig if you were to encounter a problem.”
“How will I count on his compliance?”
“With the help of his brother, we have developed a pair of handcuffs that will disable his powers when worn.”
“Why not just keep him on Asgard, is that not his home?”
“His punishment there is death on sight, firing squad is armed and ready.”
“That seems just, was it not only earth but also his own planet that he planned to dominate in previous endeavors?” you inquired.
“I can’t disagree with you, but it seems his brother has some sympathy. Thor convinced his father to let him serve his punishment here on earth until he has acquired some sort of ‘appreciation’ for us”
“Where will I, supposing I actually accept this mission, be holding him?”
“A small village in the countryside of France for now. We thought it best that he not be around too much civilization yet. It’s secluded but not completely isolated. We will expect bi-monthly checkups and will have multiple agents with an hour’s drive at all times.”
“What do I get out of this?”
“A sense of accomplishment and knowing you are saving my ass?” You rolled your eyes at his response.
“Why me?”
Tony paused for a second, thinking as his answer would determine if you accepted or not.
“Because I trust you.”
“You’re going to have to do better than that Stark”
You pushed yourself to a standing position and headed towards the exit. Before you could completely leave the room, Tony grabbed your wrist.
“After this, you can walk away. You can leave S.H.E.I.L.D. and never look back. We won’t look for you and any form of contact we have will be severed. I know you want out and this is your chance; accept my offer and you’ll have what you want most. Scout’s honor.” You looked into Tony’s eyes, searching for some indication of fraud. Instead, all you saw was a man, desperate and scared. You knew you were going to regret this.
“When do I start?”
You fidgeted with your hands as you waited. You had never been too good at waiting, instead favoring taking action. You stood in a makeshift S.H.E.I.L.D. office just beyond the border into Germany, being briefed yet again on what you were to do. You had heard the spiel so many times you could recite it in your sleep. Travel here, travel there, call every other month and most importantly, don’t let the prisoner out of your sight. Tuning the agent out, you instead focused on the cup of pens and various other writing utensils now rattling on the desk. The pens jumped excitedly, as if trying to escape their confines.
“Are we clear Agent (Y/L/N)?” you looked up to see the agent, you had been given his name upon introduction but hadn’t bothered to retain it, very aware of the fact that you were ignoring him.
“Like crystal,” you assured him. It was then that you heard the airplane land outside. You launched out your arm just in time to catch the pen holder that had been rattled off of the desk due to the close proximity of the aircraft. Gathering yourself and a small duffle bag filled with personal belongings, you walked out of the office and onto the landing pad. A small helicopter entered your vision. You walked up to the plane, grab the handles, and hoisted yourself inside. Nodding to the passengers in the aircraft you recognized the two agents from previous jobs. Seated towards the back both bound and gagged, was the god of mischief himself. You noticed the deep-set bags under his eyes and various cuts littering his face that were sure to leave scars. He scanned over you as you entered the helicopter. Cold, light blue eyes seemingly glared at you as his first impressions of you set in.
“Agent (Y/L/N),” the pilot said.
“Hey Pat, how’s it going?” you asked as you slid into the seat next to him. You lightly patted his back as adjusted to your new position.
“I’ve transported stranger cargo, but this makes it into my top ten list.”
“I think this job makes everyone’s top ten list,” the other agent chimed. When you turned around to acknowledge her and notice she had her hand firmly gripping her gun. She seemed extremely skittish around present company and her eyes never strayed from her side. You placed a hand on her leg as to calm her nerves and stated, “If he wanted to kill you, he would have done it prior to the five-hour plane ride here.”
At the mention of his presence, the god turned his head to you, an indiscernible look plastered upon his face. The agent only looked away from him briefly to stare directly at you.
“Doesn’t mean I have to be any less vigilant, ma’am.”
You gave the agent a smile in response and turned back to face the front of the plane. You watched as the plane took off of the ground. You flew above rolling green pastures and sporadic buildings, shapes and colors blurring together. You always enjoyed the low hum of plane rides and scenic views. After a bit, you allowed yourself to relax a bit and relish in the ride, watching the world fly by from your viewpoint. It seemed like no time had passed when the blurs of colors cease to be incoherent. The aircraft landed in a pasture a few yards away from a long, dirt road. Awaiting you was an old truck, looking no better than the beaten-up god sitting behind you. As the helicopter landed, you jumped out and threw your duffle bag over your shoulders. Next, you helped your prisoner exit the aircraft as gracefully as possible when bound at both the wrists and ankles. You grabbed onto the chains connecting his handcuffs and tightened your grip as the god fully situated himself to be standing next to you. Before he fully left, Pat threw you the keys to the truck and shouted, “My condolences!” over the loud noises of the aircraft.
You smirked at him and gave a two-finger salute as the plane took off. You waited until the helicopter was fully out of view before turning towards the god of mischief.
“Shall we?” you asked whilst gesturing at what now was your only mode of transportation. Without waiting for a response, you tugged at the chain and began walking. You were surprised at how compliant the god was. You presumed that it was because he was a tad bit grateful not to be dead. Opening the passenger side of the truck, you aided the god of mischief into the seat and closed the door. After climbing into the driver’s seat, you put the keys in and twisted your hand. You held your breath and crossed your fingers as the car started, not fully trusting in the truck’s ability to work. You sighed in relief as the truck started and the two of you were driving down the dirt road. After about ten minutes of driving, a small, white farmhouse came into view. You parked the truck in the makeshift driveway and looked around taking the scene in.
“Home, sweet home.”