A/N: So, I don't know where the heck this came from, other than the fact that I can't seem to get these two out of my head. I hope this is accurate enough; I'm going off memory here. As of now, I've seen the Avengers twice, so this is my twist on the ending. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Believe me, I wish that I had Loki though...

The Black Widow was uneasy. Very uneasy.

Wary. Slightly nervous. Funny feelings to have, after the team's victory against Loki and his Chitauri army. Chaos gone, the world saved, the team together; everything should be warm and fuzzy. Granted, Natasha did feel good about it all, but she was…on edge. Something just did not seem right. Looming in the distance.

How could a hard-won victory feel so wrong?

Shrugging off the unsettling feelings, Natasha crossed her arms over her chest and stayed close to Clint as they and the rest of the team watched the god of thunder approach with the glowing, newly-cased Tesseract. The air was abuzz with talk and the sounds of traffic in the distance.

Clint nudged her, and she nodded, joining the rest of the team in circling around Thor. Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Dr. Banner, Clint, and her. They were all there. Plus one.

Him.

She stiffened automatically and moved a bit closer to Clint, never taking her eyes off Loki, the god of mischief. The god of lies and trickery. Soon to be the god of chaos and destruction, especially in their eyes. Disgust welled up in her, along with a smidge of pity.

And she realized that he was currently the cause of all her discomfort and uneasiness. Yes, he had been defeated. Humiliated. Tossed around like a rag doll and pummeled to a pulp. She had seen Tony's floor and was amazed that even a god could survive such an encounter with the Hulk.

Then why doesn't he look beaten?

Loki joined Thor, standing across from him. No, Loki did not look defeated, even cuffed and muzzled. He was still dangerous. Powerful.

This man, this god, had wormed his way into her head, brought up painful memories. Reminded her of who she really was. What they had forgotten, if but temporarily, was that he had always had a purpose. There had always been a plan forming behind his sly smiles, his sleek voice, his seductive looks. And though she had pretended to break down in their memorable confrontation, and later ended up playing him the way she had planned, Loki had affected her. Really gotten to her. He knew the truth, through Clint, knew her secrets. And reveled in it. In torturing and twisting her with his razor words and silver tongue.

"Your ledger is dripping; it's gushing red."

Never, never, had Natasha allowed anyone to come so close, intentionally or unintentionally. Except for Clint. She had even found herself telling him about her past. What had he done to draw her in like that? Still, right now, she was slightly disgusted with herself for allowing it. She had to appreciate him though; he had not gone easy on her just because she was a woman.

"This is my bargain, you mewling quim!"

He was a chessmaster, five steps or more ahead of everyone.

And, Natasha dared to wonder, what if he'd never planned on winning?

Ridiculous, she assured herself. A small breeze blew her red hair around her face.

A part of her liked to think that she had affected him as well. Surprise was not, she assumed, an emotion common to a god, and he had been treated with a healthy dose of it. She had unexpectedly one-upped him, something that had probably never happened to him before. Least of all from a mortal being. He had even, in his own way, praised her for her ability to sneak up on him. Despite being in a cage, he had remained in control until he had been duped. The god of trickery, tricked.

Natasha allowed herself to have a small victory in that concept. He had never met another mortal like her. She had matched him, bested him.

The Black Widow smiled bitterly.

But no, Loki did not look defeated. She could swear that behind that metal muzzle, he was smirking handsomely at them all. At the Avengers. Plotting their deaths. His stance strong, head bowed, glaring at them. Fire was burning in those green eyes. Emerald flames. She had expected the Hulk to have inflicted and left a little more damage than Loki was actually showing. He only sported a few scratches on that stone face. Even his long black hair managed to look unruffled. Hopefully, he was hurting internally.

She figured it took a lot to kill a god. If it was possible.

Natasha looked around to take in the others' reactions to seeing the cause of all their troubles chained and silenced before them. Stark wore a smug expression, no doubt struggling to not break the tension and quiet in the air with a sarcastic, degrading comment about Loki's current well-being. Rogers, still looking out of his time, was fixed with an odd little half-smile of victory. Banner was his usual controlled self, but something on his face told her that he was recalling certain, fun memories of violence. What he could remember, anyway.

She turned to the side a bit and glanced back at Clint. Behind his sunglasses, he was reacting the same way as she. Quiet, stoic, impassive. A bit smug. They had both been affected by this monster most of all. And as a result, their relationship had strengthened. Her old partner, her old friend.

None of them, any of the members of the team, knew what to feel at this moment. It was all over. The gods were going home.

Thor and Loki faced each other. And Natasha never thought that she could see so much love and so much hate packed into one moment. The love and pain for his deluded brother was etched into every crevice of Thor's rugged face. And on Loki…on Loki she could read fury. Seething hate. Jealousy. Reluctance.

But not defeat. Not surrender. He still burned.

Loki had surrendered to them. And for a while, had even kept a good humor about it, asking for a drink that Stark had apparently offered him at one point in time. In addition to raising a few questions, it had shocked her, and in that moment, Natasha had almost smiled. But now, Loki was no longer that grudgingly good-sported loser. He was subdued, bound, but had returned to his original self, his original personality and mindset.

Absolutely unbroken.

Natasha knew villains like him, but he was different. She feared him and observed the two gods. Loki had not hit rock-bottom; he was not finished.

That was why she was uneasy. Because really, Loki was not done with them. There was no guilt on his cold face, no remorse in his narrowed eyes. No, he had not been defeated.

"This is monsters and magic and nothing we were ever trained for."

She doubted they would ever be ready for another threat like him. Or that they would ever get used to it.

As the team watched the exchange, Clint leaned forward and whispered in Natasha's ear. She whispered back, never taking her eyes off the brothers at the center of everyone's attention. She studied Thor and Loki with a tightly coiled energy, ready to spring loose at the slightest sign of a disturbance.

Thor kindly offered the Tesseract to the mischief-maker. Loki glared at him murderously. Suddenly nervous, Natasha held her breath as Thor fixed his brother with a pleading, imploring look. She bit her lip and kept her arms crossed. The poor guy…so much betrayal…

And then it happened. It lasted only about three seconds, but it happened. Something little to anyone else but her.

Loki's green snake eyes flicked up and latched onto hers. She stared challengingly right back, unable to move or do anything else. Something about the way his eyes were crinkling around the edges suggested that he was sneering at her behind the mask. Leering at her. As if he could hear her very thoughts and was still reading her darkest secrets.

And in those three seconds, her mind betrayed her. She cursed silently, having just admitted to herself that yes, he was incredibly attractive, for a monster. Natasha may have been a hardened SHIELD agent, but she was also a woman. What Clint would think of where your mind is going…

She stopped breathing momentarily. There, in Loki's smoldering gaze, was the glint of something that she did not want to acknowledge, no matter how flattering it might have been.

Lust. Pure, unbridled lust. For her. Lean. Hungry.

And traitorous muscles deep in her belly clenched at the thought. Loki was a diabolical monster, but he was also a man. A god, but a fine specimen of the male species nonetheless. She was horrified at herself, and as a result, she treated the god of mischief with a glowering scowl.

Almost as if some plan of his had been accomplished, Loki slipped his attention from Natasha to focus on Thor once more. A moment or two more of hesitation, of deliberation, then he reached a pondering, elegant, long-fingered hand out to grasp the Tesseract. A flash of relief flits across Thor's face, rejoicing at his brother's agreement, at his apparent surrender. They stared each other down as a column of blue light descended. And in a flash, the gods vanished.

Wind beat against their faces, and the team remained, staring up into the sky, long after it happened. Unable to believe that it was all over.

But everything about Loki had said that it was not; it had spoken volumes to Natasha. Shielding her eyes against the sun, Natasha felt a miniscule glimmer of hope for Loki, despite their predator-versus-prey exchange.

He knows what's waiting for him up there. He knows he'll be punished. So why did he agree to leave with Thor? He could have chosen not to grab the Tesseract. But he did. Is there a remote possibility of redemption for him after all?

In this, Natasha was disturbed more than comforted. Loki was not finished with them. Or at least, Loki was not finished with her. He despised her. She feared, and she did fear, that he would come for her, somehow, because she had bested him that one time. Gods held grudges. His last glance told her so.

Loki had remained undefeated. Unbeaten. Unbroken. And then, when least expected, he had turned around and done something the opposite of what was predicted.

In this, despite Clint's relaxed hand on her shoulder, the Black Widow was uneasy. Anxious. It was not over.

And she would be waiting.

A/N: There you have it! Just a little one-shot. Review, favorite, share, blah-blah-blah. It is my policy to always respond!