Caged- Chapter 1 (Loki x Reader)

"I'm going to the art store," you told Clint as you slung your messenger bag over your shoulder and put your hand on the doorknob. "If Bruce needs me, can you tell him where I am?"
"Sure thing, chickadee." The archer nodded, using the affectionate nickname he had given you when you first came to Stark Tower along with Bruce. "If you have time, can you pick up some dinner?"

"I thought Tony had fixed JARVIS?"
"There was another bug this morning. Right after the power outage."
"Weird. Thai?"
"Sounds good." He waved his hand in your direction lazily before going back to his book, The History of Long-Range Warfare. "See you."
"Bye." You slipped out the door and hurried down the stairwell. You knew not to use the elevator if JARVIS wasn't working. Last time that happened, you had been stuck in the shaft for two hours while Tony attempted to bring it up and Bruce fretted about the lift's temperature.

It had been almost seven months since your parents had dropped you off in New York to live with the Avengers. Bruce Banner was a family friend. He had gone to both high school and college with your father, and the two of them had stayed rather close friends until the "accident". The way you remembered it was that he'd visit your family every year during the summer, until you were nine. Suddenly, "Uncle Bruce" was gone. There wasn't any sign of him, your parents went silent when you asked where he was, and your mother would occasionally tear up at the mention of his name. Where was he, the man who would pick you up and swing you around when you ran up to him, who would slip you pieces of candy when you least expected it, who helped your with your science homework and told you stories?

Was he dead? You waited for two whole years before you realized. He was gone. Uncle Bruce wouldn't be coming back. It didn't matter how long you sat on the porch during the summer holidays, playing out front until dark, searching for the telltale plume of dust that rose up whenever someone drove down that expanse of dry, gritty road. Uncle Bruce was gone, and you couldn't do anything about it.

But that amazing day ten months ago, when you checked the mail and wondered if there was anything but J.Jill magazines, and you saw the postcard marked: Oaxaca... You had been wrong. In the familiar hurried scrawl were the words "Margaret, Robert and ______, I'm sorry if my lack of communication has worried you, but something went wrong. I'm coming to visit soon. I can't say when, in case this letter is intercepted. But, don't worry, I'm fine.

Your friend, Bruce B.

So many things had happened since then. Your parents had finally gotten their dream job in Africa, Bruce was taking you on his trips around the world... Everything was upside-down.
And you loved it. While it had lasted, at least.

Eventually, Bruce's worst nightmare came true. S.H.I.E.L.D. had found him again and were asking him to help save the world or something. That's what you had gathered from where you were pressing your ear to the door. During that period you were sent to Great- Aunt Hilda's, while everything was "sorted out". When it came time for you and Bruce to start traveling again he had told you the news.
"There's a great lab there." He had said. "Several, actually."
"I've never been to New York, Bruce." You had whined, picking at one of the many holes in your capris.
"You'll be able to visit the Met."
"I'm in."
And that was that.

"Hey there, ______." Tyler, the owner of the art supply store you preferred waved at you, his nose tucked into a catalogue.
"How's business?" You asked, heading over to the wall where an enormous selection of brushes were displayed.

"Same ol', same ol'." He shrugged. "What're you looking for?"
"The hairs on my 0.009 are falling out."
"Well, it is a fragile brush."
"Yeah." You plucked one of the brushes from its holder and dropped it on the counter. "I want to make a watercolor painting for my mom's birthday, but because of the distance I have to make it ahead of time..."

"I'm sure she'll love it. Is this all?"
"Yep." You pulled out your wallet and searched through the cluttered mass of receipts and expired gift cards, finally finding a twenty after a bit of looking.
Tyler rung up your purchase, chatting as he did so.

It took a while, but you finally got him to shut up and let you leave, which was never an easy feat. Stepping back outside into the chilly November air, you made your way over to the nearest Thai place. You ordered a huge amount of food, gathering a few odd looks from some of the employees. As you waited for it to be ready, you pulled a book out of your bag and began to read it.

Living with the Avengers wasn't all fun and games. Bruce insisted on giving you homework, and your current "assignment" was to read the biography of Paul Villard.
Boring.
"Miss ______-Stark? Your order is ready." One of the workers handed you an enormous paper bag, and the delicious smell of spices wafted upwards.

"Thanks." You clumsily stuffed the credit card (linked to Tony's account, of course) you had used into your bag and stumbled out the door. "Have a nice evening!"

"I'm back!" You called out, shutting the door with your foot and making your way into the kitchen. You placed the food on the counter and checked your watch.
Six forty-five... Everyone's usually home by now... You checked the information room, where the energy readings for the restricted and open rooms were displayed.
"What have we told you about being in here, squirt?" You turned around to see Tony leaning against the doorframe and shaking his head in a mocking manner. "Naughty, naughty, naughty..."
"I was worried." You admitted, exiting the room with a guilty look on your face. "Nobody answered when I called and usually everyone's home by this point, so..."
"Everything's fine." He smiled at you and ruffled your hair. You could smell something damp and musty, and you knew he had been doing something odd. You had learned not to question his projects, seeing as he had become rather secretive after you came back from the month you had spent with Aunt Hilda. Actually, everyone was acting weird lately, now that you thought about it.

"How's JARVIS?" You asked, flopping down on the couch with a great thump.
"Still buggy. What'd you get for dinner?"
"Thai."
"Great. I'll be in the lab on the fourth floor. Ring the call button if you need me."
"I'm not a baby, Tony."
"You're still our little girl." He grinned and flicked your cheek lightly before getting up and strolling out of the room.
You laughed quietly to yourself as you picked up a sketchbook. Your many notepads and scrapbooks littered the living room, the majority of them stuffed so full of sketches and paper clippings that they more closely resembled a miniature recycling bin than a notebook. You had been wanting to make sketches of the city from different vantage points for a while now, and it seemed to be the perfect night to do it.

Floor by floor, stopping briefly at every window to make a quick sketch of the skyline as the sun went down, a great fiery ball behind the skyscrapers.
Down, down, down, down... Into rooms you had never entered, seeing views you had never dreamed of... Lower and lower...

Until you found the door.