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36 Undercover
🕑 Added 2024-10-28 18:15:01 +0000 UTCThe night air in the small New Mexico town was still and quiet, the stars above twinkling like diamonds scattered across a velvet sky. With a soft crack, Harry appeared in a darkened alleyway, the sudden displacement of air the only sign of his arrival. He glanced around, ensuring that no one had seen him, before stepping out onto the dimly lit street.
Harry pulled his hand from the inside of his jacket as he walked. With a whispered incantation, the tip of the hand glowed faintly, casting a soft light that only he could see. He closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on the faint magical signatures he had traced earlier. Thor’s aura was distinct—like a beacon of ancient power intertwined with the raw energy of the storm. Dr. Selvig’s was more subdued, but still there, tinged with the curiosity and intellect of a seasoned scientist.
The hand’s light pulsed in response, guiding Harry through the quiet streets of the town. He walked until he reached the entrance of a small, unassuming bar. The warm light spilling out of the windows and the faint sound of music and conversation told him he had found his targets.
Harry pushed the door open and stepped inside, the scent of alcohol and fried food immediately hitting his senses. The bar was modest, filled with a handful of locals nursing their drinks and unwinding after a long day. At the bar, he spotted Thor and Selvig deep in conversation.
He made his way to the bar, taking a seat close enough to overhear their discussion without drawing attention to himself. The bartender approached, and Harry ordered a pint of beer, keeping his movements casual as he continued to listen in on Thor and Selvig’s exchange.
Selvig’s voice was low, filled with concern. “You need to leave Jane alone.”
Thor nodded solemnly; his usual bravado subdued. “Aye, I understand. I’ll leave town in the morning.”
As Thor and Selvig continued their conversation, the warm atmosphere of the bar was suddenly disrupted.
“Hey, I know you, man…” A slurred voice cut through the murmur of the bar. An intimidating, burly drunk townie staggered towards Thor, his eyes narrowing with a mix of recognition and drunken bravado. “You were in the diner with that hot girl.”
Thor stiffened, sensing trouble. He met the man’s gaze calmly, but there was a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. The townie, emboldened by the alcohol and the attention he was garnering, continued, “I wouldn’t mind her doing a little research on me.” He let out a coarse laugh, clearly enjoying himself.
Thor’s jaw tightened, but he kept his composure. “I have no quarrel with you,” he said evenly, “But she’s a lady. You should be more respectful.”
The townie sneered, swaying slightly as he stepped closer. “And you should shut the hell up, princess.”
Selvig glanced nervously at Thor, expecting him to retaliate. But, to his surprise, Thor remained calm, even serene.
“I will not fight him,” Thor stated, his voice steady and resolute.
The townie’s sneer widened. “Then it’ll be easy to kick your ass.”
Just as things seemed about to escalate, Harry, who had been sitting quietly at the bar nursing his drink, suddenly stood up. With a completely straight face, he walked up to the townie, holding his beer glass as if he were about to make a toast.
“Hey, buddy,” Harry began, his voice light and casual. The townie turned to him, confused. “Ever heard the one about the drunk who bit off more than he could chew?”
Before the townie could respond, Harry cheerfully smashed his beer glass over the guy’s head with a swift, almost exaggerated motion. The townie’s eyes crossed as he swayed for a moment, then toppled over like a felled tree, hitting the floor with a thud.
The entire bar fell into stunned silence, every eye on Harry as he stood over the now-unconscious townie, still holding the remnants of his glass. Thor and Selvig stared at him, their expressions a mix of awe and disbelief.
Harry looked around at the shocked faces, then casually dusted off his hands. “What? He was too noisy, and my drink was getting warm.”
A beat passed, and then Harry turned to the bartender, grinning broadly. “Bartender, another round for everyone! And, uh, maybe something less breakable this time.”
The bar erupted into laughter, and the tension was instantly replaced by cheers and applause. Thor’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he exchanged a glance with Selvig, who was now chuckling openly.
As the bartender poured out drinks and the patrons raised their glasses in thanks, Harry returned to his seat with an exaggerated sigh. “Honestly, some people just don’t know when to quit,” he said, shaking his head in mock disappointment.
Thor, thoroughly entertained, lifted his drink to Harry. “You have a unique way of handling things, friend.”
Harry grinned back. “Just another day at the office.”
And with that, the three of them clinked their glasses, sealing the start of a rather unusual but undeniably promising friendship.
Thor and Selvig exchanged a look, then turned to Harry with grins of gratitude. "Well, that was... unexpected," Selvig said, still a bit stunned. "But much appreciated. Care to join us for a drink? Seems only right after saving us from a scene."
Harry smirked. "How could I refuse an offer like that?"
They shifted their seats, bringing Harry into their circle as they made their introductions. Thor, still getting used to his new mortal persona, introduced himself with a slight hesitation. "I'm... Thor. Just a traveller passing through."
Selvig chuckled, his Scandinavian accent growing thicker as the evening wore on. "And I'm Erik Selvig, scientist and now apparently, drinking partner."
"Harry Potter," he responded, raising his pint glass. "A traveller of my own."
Thor and Selvig smiled at Harry. "So, what brings two fine gentlemen like yourselves to a small town like this?"
The conversation flowed easily after that. Thor spoke vaguely about his journey, carefully avoiding any direct mention of Asgard or his fall from grace. Selvig filled the silence with anecdotes about his research and adventures, which grew increasingly embellished with each round.
As the night deepened, Selvig's tales grew more exaggerated, and the drinks kept coming. It didn’t take long before Selvig was thoroughly tipsy, his inhibitions fading with each gulp. "You know... this reminds me of the time I tried to calculate the rotational dynamics of a collapsing neutron star while on a vodka binge... Not my best work."
Thor laughed heartily, the sound booming through the bar, while Harry raised an amused eyebrow. "Sounds like the results were stellar."
Selvig groaned at the pun, but his grin betrayed his amusement. "You're terrible, you know that?"
"Well," Thor said, raising his glass, "I believe it’s time to see who among us can hold their liquor the best. A little competition, if you will."
Harry grinned, leaning into the challenge. "Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you. I can hold my liquor very well."
The drinking contest began in earnest. Pint after pint was downed, and with each glass, the bond between the three men grew stronger. Thor’s Asgardian constitution kept him remarkably sober, though a slight flush coloured his cheeks. Harry remained relatively clear-headed as well, though he did feel he was getting a bit tipsy as he traded drinks with Thor.
Selvig, however, was not as lucky. His speech began to slur, and he started to lose his train of thought mid-sentence. But the scientist was determined, fueled by the camaraderie and the thrill of the moment.
As the night wore on, the three of them laughed and swapped stories, losing themselves in the moment. For a little while, the burdens they carried were forgotten—the looming trials, the responsibilities, and the weight of their respective worlds. In this small, dimly lit bar, they were just three men enjoying a night out.
Eventually, they had to call it a night. Thor, Harry, and Selvig stumbled down the street, their arms linked as they belted out a boisterous Norwegian song. Harry, not knowing the words, hummed along cheerfully, matching their enthusiasm if not their lyrics. Despite Selvig being utterly drunk, Harry and Thor were only lightly buzzed, their steps still mostly steady but their spirits high.
As they weaved their way through the quiet town, they improvised an impromptu dance to go with their song—side steps, exaggerated hand claps, and a few spins that would have looked more graceful if Selvig weren’t tripping over his own feet every few steps.
"One more time!" Thor cheered, holding up his hand for Selvig to finish with a triumphant slap.
Selvig squinted, concentrating hard, then swung his arm in what he thought was the right direction. But instead of hitting Thor’s hand, he missed it completely, his momentum carrying him forward. With a spectacular lack of grace, he tumbled out of frame like a felled tree, hitting the pavement with a solid clunk.
Thor and Harry stopped in their tracks, blinking down at their fallen comrade. For a moment, there was silence. Then, as if on cue, they burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the empty street.
Thor crouched down, poking Selvig in the side. "Come on, Erik, up you get. We still have a long night ahead."
But Selvig was out cold, snoring softly in a heap on the ground. Thor nudged him a few more times to no avail, and Harry shook his head with an amused sigh.
"Well, he’s done for the night," Harry said, still chuckling. "We should probably get him home before he becomes a permanent part of the sidewalk."
Thor nodded, attempting to rouse Selvig one last time before giving up. "Aye, let's take him to Smith Motor. They have been using the old shop as a base for their research. I think that’s where we’ll find his trailer."
Thor lifted Selvig with ease, hoisting him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Selvig remained blissfully unconscious, completely unaware of his new vantage point. The sight of the large, godlike Thor carrying the plump scientist down the street would have been absurd under any other circumstances, but tonight it just seemed right.
As they headed toward Smith Motors, Thor glanced over at Harry, grinning. "You know, you’re not half bad at this drinking song business."
Harry smirked, falling into step beside him. "I aim to please, Thor. Though I must admit, I’m more of a ‘hum along and hope for the best’ kind of guy."
Thor laughed; the sound full of warmth. "I think that’s exactly what makes it work."
Together, they continued down the street, their laughter and off-key singing fading into the night as they made their way toward the makeshift base of operations.
Harry rapped on the door of the trailer Thor had pointed out as Selvig’s. The door creaked open to reveal a worried Jane, with Darcy peeking over her shoulder. Who Harry recognized from the pictures that Coulson had shown him before he departed the facility.
Jane’s confusion deepened as her eyes landed on Harry, but that quickly shifted to concern when she noticed Thor standing behind him, the unconscious Selvig slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The two men looked amused, if not slightly tipsy.
“Erik!” Jane and Darcy shouted in unison; their voices laced with concern. “Is he all right?”
“He’s fine. Not injured at all,” Thor reassured them with a confident smile. He then introduced the ladies to Harry. As Thor stepped onto the trailer, Selvig’s head bumped against the doorframe with a dull thud, eliciting a groan from the scientist.
“Sorry, my friend,” Thor mumbled apologetically as he adjusted Selvig’s position.
“What happened?” Jane asked, her worry evident.
Thor grinned; his voice full of pride. “We drank. We fought. He made his ancestors proud.”
Jane sighed, shaking her head with a mixture of exasperation and amusement. “Put him on the bed.”
Thor manoeuvred his way through the cramped trailer, carrying Selvig like a bear lugging another bear. He bumbled his way through the narrow space, knocking into furniture and nearly toppling a lamp before finally managing to lay Selvig down on Jane’s bed.
As Thor tended to Selvig, Harry’s gaze met Darcy’s. She felt a jolt of attraction that took her by surprise. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and those emerald, green eyes—so deep and intense—held a captivating mix of mystery and warmth. There was something undeniably magnetic about him, something that made it hard for Darcy to look away.
Selvig stirred groggily, blinking up at Thor with bleary eyes. “I still don’t believe you’re the God of Thunder... but you ought to be.”
Thor chuckled, patting Selvig’s cheek affectionately. “Rest now, Erik.” As Selvig drifted off to sleep, Thor carefully pulled a blanket over him, his rough exterior softened by a gesture that spoke volumes about their friendship. Jane watched the scene unfold, impressed by the bond between the two men, and surprised by Thor’s tenderness.
Thor gestured to Harry with a broad smile as he introduced him to the two women. “Jane, Darcy, this is Harry Potter,” he said, his tone filled with a mix of pride and friendliness. “He’s a friend and quite a skilled drinker. He’s been travelling apparently.” Thor’s eyes twinkled as he added, “You can trust him—he’s got a good heart, even if he’s a bit modest about it.” He continued looking at Harry. “Harry these are Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis. My friends.”
Meanwhile, Darcy found herself increasingly aware of Harry standing just a few feet away. He exuded an effortless confidence, his posture relaxed yet commanding. Despite the unusual circumstances, there was a charm about him that was hard to ignore. As if sensing her gaze, Harry looked back at Darcy, his eyes twinkling.
“If there’s anything else you need, please don’t hesitate to ask,” Harry said, his voice smooth and reassuring. “We’ll be on our way now.”
Darcy tried to ignore the flutter in her stomach, but it was impossible not to feel something in the presence of someone so captivating. As Harry and Thor made their way out of the trailer, Darcy couldn’t help but wonder about the man who had just walked into her life, if only for a moment.
Thor turns back to Jane, looking around with a curious expression. “Are these your chambers?” he asks, his deep voice full of genuine curiosity.
Jane suddenly becomes self-conscious, glancing around the cluttered trailer. She starts hurriedly tidying up, trying to make the space presentable. “Well, it’s more of a temporary living space, really. I don’t usually have visitors here. Actually... never...” Jane trails off as Thor picks up a stray sock from the floor. She quickly snatches it from him, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Can we go outside?” she suggests, eager to move the conversation somewhere less chaotic.
Darcy’s mind was racing. She knows Jane wants to spend some quality time alone with Thor, and as a good friend (and an opportunist), she realised this might be her chance to make a bold move. If Jane was getting her god, then Darcy would aim to get her something too. ‘Sacrificing herself’ for the greater good suddenly didn’t seem like such a bad idea, especially when the man in question was as deliciously mysterious as Harry Potter.
With her heart pounding in her chest, Darcy gathers her courage and saunters over to Harry, her hips swaying just a little more than usual. “Mr. Potter,” she began, her voice carrying a breathy tone that she hoped sounded seductive, “Would you mind if I joined you for a walk around town? I could really use a break, and... well, I’d love to chat with you for a bit if that’s alright.”
Harry’s eyebrows rose in surprise, clearly caught off guard by the sudden invitation. But then his expression softened into that charming, disarming smile that maked Darcy’s pulse quicken. “I’d be happy to, Miss Lewis. A walk sounds like a great idea,” he replied, completely oblivious to the glint in her eyes.
Thor, catching the interaction, glanced between them with a knowing grin. He might be out of his element on Midgard, but even he can see what’s going on. “I’ll stay here and keep Jane company,” he said, giving Harry a playful nudge with his elbow. “You two enjoy your walk.”
As Darcy stepped outside with Harry, she can’t help but steal a glance at his broad shoulders and the way his dark hair caught the light. The man was practically radiating an aura of untouchable power, and yet here he was, casually agreeing to a walk with her.
She bit her lip, a shiver of anticipation running down her spine. The night was young, and Darcy Lewis was determined to make the most of it. If this man didn’t know what he was in for yet, he soon would. All she had to do was figure out how to crack that aloof, mysterious shell of his.
When the cool night air hit Darcy’s face as they stepped outside, she took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. They walked down the quiet street, the rhythmic crunch of gravel underfoot the only sound accompanying their steps. Darcy glanced at Harry out of the corner of her eye, trying to think of the best way to keep the conversation going—and to steer it in the direction she wanted.
“I’m sorry about Selvig,” she began, her voice tinged with embarrassment. “I didn’t expect him to be so… lively.”
Harry chuckled softly, a sound that sent a pleasant shiver down Darcy’s spine. “No need to apologize. He was a great sport. I enjoyed our time together.”
Darcy managed a small smile, feeling a mixture of relief and nervous excitement. “He’s like a walking encyclopedia when he’s sober, but when he drinks... well, you saw.” She laughed, trying to sound casual, but her mind was working overtime. ‘Come on, Darcy, think! What would Jane do in this situation? Oh wait, she’d be back there with Thor. Never mind, you’re on your own.’
Trying to find some common ground, Darcy added, “I’m still in college, you know. I’ve never really met someone like you before.”
Harry’s eyes held a curious gleam. “Someone like me? What do you mean?” His tone was genuinely inquisitive, but all Darcy could think about was how ridiculously attractive he looked when he was intrigued.
She hesitated, her cheeks flushing slightly as she struggled to find the right words without sounding too eager. “Well, someone so… confident and self-assured. I mean, here I am, just a student, and then there’s you, with your whole… aura. It’s a bit overwhelming.”
Harry smiled, and Darcy felt her heart do a little flip. “I appreciate the compliment. But we all have our own ways of navigating through life, don’t we?”
Darcy nodded, though she wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that. All she knew was that she needed to keep the momentum going. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she said, trying to sound deep and philosophical, even though her mind was racing with much less innocent thoughts.
As they continued their walk, Darcy found herself opening more, sharing stories from her chaotic college life—hoping to impress him with her wit and charm. Harry listened attentively, nodding thoughtfully at her tales of wild parties and last-minute study sessions. To her surprise, he seemed genuinely interested in her stories.
“This is perfect,” Harry thought to himself. “A casual walk, some friendly conversation—I might be able to get closer to these scientists and figure out what they know. Darcy seems pretty easygoing, and I can befriend her easily.”
Unaware of Harry’s thinking, Darcy started to relax more, the initial tension giving way to a more comfortable connection. She couldn’t help but be charmed by his calm demeanour and the way he seemed so grounded, even when talking about seemingly ordinary things.
Harry, on the other hand, was mentally congratulating himself on how well this undercover mission was going. “This is going great,” he thought. “Making friends with Selvig’s team could be the key to getting more information.”
Darcy, still blissfully unaware of Harry’s true motives, leaned a little closer, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “You know, Harry,” she said, trying to sound as alluring as possible, “it’s nice to meet someone who’s so… different. You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before.”
Harry simply smiled, completely oblivious to the flirtatious undercurrent. “I could say the same about you, Darcy. You’re quite unique yourself.”
Darcy’s heart fluttered at his words, and she had to resist the urge to squeal. She was convinced now—tonight was the night she would score with the mysterious man. But little did she know, Harry’s mind was far from the fantasy she was imagining.
By the time they returned to the trailer, Darcy felt a surprising sense of ease and connection with Harry. He had a way of making her feel heard and valued, despite the stark differences in their worlds. As they reached the porch, Darcy’s mind raced with possibilities. This was it—her chance to turn this night into something unforgettable.
“Thank you for the walk,” Darcy said, her voice carrying a playful lilt as she stepped a bit closer to Harry. “It was nice to get to know you a little better.”
Harry nodded, his gaze lingering on her with a hint of warmth. “The pleasure was mine, Miss Lewis. I’m glad we had the chance to talk.”
She looked up at Harry, his features softened by the gentle glow of the porch light and took a deep breath. Her pulse quickened as she leaned into the moment. “Harry,” she began, her voice soft but resolute, “I don’t want tonight to end just yet.”
Harry’s gaze met hers, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. Before he could respond, Darcy stepped even closer, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached up, her hand gently resting on the side of his face, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. With a mixture of daring and vulnerability, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his.
The kiss was tentative at first, her lips brushing against his in a hesitant yet eager motion. She expected Harry to respond, to pull her closer, but instead, his body tensed slightly, and he remained still. Darcy took this as a challenge—maybe he just needed a little more encouragement.
She deepened the kiss, her hands sliding up to his shoulders, pressing herself against him in a way that left no room for misinterpretation. But Harry, caught off guard and battling with the ghosts of his past, didn’t know how to respond.
When Darcy pulled back slightly, her eyes searching his face for a reaction, she saw the conflict there. He looked like a man caught between desire and duty, a deer in the headlights of Darcy’s unabashed boldness.
“Harry, I… I really want to be close to you,” she confessed, her voice trembling with a mix of hope and uncertainty. Her hands lingered on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath his shirt. This was the moment—it had to be.
Harry’s expression was a mix of contemplation and hesitation. He took a step back, his gaze intense yet gentle. “Darcy,” he said softly, “this is all so sudden. I need to be honest with you. I didn’t expect this.”
Darcy’s heart sank slightly, but she wasn’t about to give up that easily. “I understand if you need time,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, though her eyes were full of mischief. “But I just felt this connection, and I couldn’t ignore it.”
Emboldened, Darcy moved in for another kiss, this time determined to make Harry see things her way. But before she could close the distance, Harry, in a moment of desperate clarity, quickly flicked his hand quickly. With a muttered word, Darcy’s eyelids drooped, her playful smirk melting into an expression of dreamy surprise.
Harry barely caught her as she slumped forward, knocked out completely by the sleeping charm. Harry carefully lifted Darcy, her body limp and unresisting in his arms. Her breath was soft and steady, a peaceful contrast to the storm brewing inside him. He carried her into the trailer, the faint light casting shadows on the walls as he gently laid her down on the bed. For a moment, he stood over her, watching her sleep, his mind awash with conflicting emotions.
The kiss—Darcy’s kiss—had caught him off guard. It wasn’t just the surprise of it, but the way it felt so wrong, so out of place. As much as he tried to shake the feeling, the memory of it clung to him like a stubborn fog, a stark reminder of everything he was trying to forget.
Harry settled onto the small couch across the room, the cushions worn but comfortable enough. He leaned back, closing his eyes, hoping that sleep would come and offer him some reprieve. But instead, his thoughts wandered to Natasha.
Her face flashed in his mind, vivid and haunting. The way she used to smile at him, the rare moments when her guarded demeanor would soften, and she’d let him see the real her—those were the memories that twisted his heart into knots. He could almost feel her touch, the ghost of it lingering on his skin, and with it came the ache of her absence.
The kiss with Darcy had been a jarring reminder of what he had lost. How could he feel anything for someone else when his heart was still so entwined with Natasha’s? The kiss had felt like a betrayal—not to Natasha, but to himself, to the feelings he still harboured for Natasha despite everything that had happened.
Anger bubbled up within him, hot and fierce. Anger at Natasha for leaving him, for walking away when he needed her the most. But even more so, anger at himself for still caring, for still wanting her despite the pain she had caused him. He wanted to move on, to find peace, but every step forward felt like it was dragging him deeper into a mire of unresolved feelings.
Harry opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling as the weight of his emotions pressed down on him. How was he supposed to keep going when the past refused to let him go? The mission with SHIELD, the encounters with Thor, the friendship he was trying to build with the scientists—it all felt like a distraction, a way to keep himself from drowning in his own thoughts.
But now, in the quiet of the night, there was no escaping it. The emptiness left by Natasha was still there, and no amount of distraction could fill it. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, feeling the familiar sting of tears he refused to shed.
He wished he could hate her, that he could let the anger consume him and burn away the remnants of his affection. But he couldn’t. Not really. Because deep down, beneath the pain and the anger, was a longing for the way things used to be—a longing that refused to die, no matter how much he wished it would.
Harry turned to his side, curling up on the couch as if he could shield himself from the memories. But they followed him, echoing in the silence, a reminder of what he had lost and what he could never get back.
As he drifted off to sleep, one thought lingered, heavy and bittersweet: Why did you have to end it this way?
