Fragmented Thoughts Chapter 13 (Part 1) (Reader)

"OW! That is enough!"
"Hold still! By the gods, you cry like a-"
"THOR!"
You burst into giggles as you listen to Thor struggle with Loki's less-than-manageable hair, with Natasha styling yours. The publicity act Nick Fury had "assigned" to you for the evening was a formal event, and everyone who went had to be dressed for the occasion. Which meant Loki had to brush his "mop of hair" as Stark called it. Thor had already brushed his hair into a little ponytail, and he was attempting to do the same with Loki's hair, but the Asgardian was crying like a baby.
You laugh even harder as Natasha reaches over to help Thor, pinning Loki's head still with her hands. It almost seems like they're dealing with a wild animal that has a thorn in its paw, except this wild animal is cursing in a language you aren't familiar with, and the thorn is caught in its hair.
"Hurry, before he curses me with raptor's feet!"
"Du er et beist av en kvinne!"
"Brother, hold your tongue!"
You're practically rolling at this point, the scene is just too hilarious to keep watching. Tears fill your eyes and blur your vision. You wipe them away to see that they finally manage to brush Loki's mane into a ponytail, though it's smaller and messier due to his struggles. Thor lets go and Natasha backs away, both of them stepping back as if Loki could explode at any second. You kind of wonder if he can.
Loki grumbles and plucks at his hair a little, looking at his reflection. Thor rushes in to stop him, protesting, but Loki swats his hands away, standing to leave. Thor follows him and Natasha shakes her head.
"Those two are the biggest prima donnas I've seen since my mission in France," she groans. You giggle, unable to hide your laughter. Natasha sighs and turns back to you, brushing your hair back and spraying it lightly to keep it in place.
"What is this formal event like?" you ask.
"It's a business party," Natasha tells you. "It's supposed to be a celebration. The mayor's son's business finally hit its goal for the year, so they're throwing a party."
"Isn't that, like, a waste of money?" you ask.
"Not that kind of goal," she tells you. You shrug. Fair enough. Your mind goes back to the words Loki told you before you left the simulator and you shiver.
"Cold?" Natasha asks as she holds up a strand of your hair, curling it with a curling iron.
"No, it's just...something Loki said," you tell her nervously. Was it okay to tell her?
"Something Loki said?" she asks. You nod, a little uncomfortable. "He said that I was the most powerful out of everyone. That it's like I'm playing God."
Natasha keeps silent for a moment and fiddles with your hair. You wonder if you've said too much when she finally speaks up. "Loki says a lot of things, kid. Don't worry about him."
"But why would he say something like that?" you ask.
"Loki is a trickster," she tells you. "He's what his people call a silver-tongue, meaning he uses fancy words and lies to get people."
You look at her through the mirror. "He does?"
"I don't know what his intentions are," she confesses, "but he's the god of mischief. Who knows what he's up to? Him, I guess. Him alone."
"The god of mischief?" You knew they were gods, in a sense, but not actual...you know...gods. With patronage and things like that.
"Thor's the god of thunder," Natasha explains, "and they come from Asgard, the realm of the Gods. It's all Norse mythology, except it's real."
Wow. So they actually are gods. That is so cool...and explains why it thunders every time Thor complains of nightmares. Now you know. You learn something new every day.
Finally, Natasha steps back, done with your hair. It looks like a princess' hair, the sides and front curled and the back straight, pinned into a bun. You tilt your head, admiring the bounce of the curls on either side of your head, the smooth perfection of the bun in the back.
"How did you know how to do this...?" you ask, a smile on your face.
"You learn a lot, being a spy," she tells you, turning off the curling iron. You still feel a slight chill when she talks about her past. You wonder what secrets she hides...
"Tony left your dress in your room. Go put it on," she instructs you. You turn to her, eyes wide. "Dress!?"
"Go, out!" She pushes you out of her bathroom. "Yes, dress! Now go put it on, don't make us late!"

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The dress, it turns out, is a nice rose red, with a floral decoration on the right hip that extends up and around your waist, down your side and up to your chest. It has several layers beneath it, making it extend out from your legs, stopping just below your knees. The skirt is plaited with layers of the red fabric, made into the shape of rose petals, the underlayer a thin silky white. The halter-top has one strap over your left shoulder, with a small rose sewn into the top. You look like a giant flower girl. Oh well, it looks good on you, nonetheless, as you admire yourself in your dressing room mirror. Not bad, not bad at all.
After a few moments, Natasha steps in, her hair curled into ribbons that give her a Shirley Temple look. Her dress is a black stretchy material that shapes to her body, exposing her knees and her lower thighs. Jeez, does she even feel comfortable in that?
"Okay, it's time to go," she says to you. You nod, following her out the door. As she closes your bedroom door, she grabs your chin and pulls out eyeliner.
"Hey!" you protest.
"You need it," she says to you. "First impressions are always lasting impressions. The media is going to be out there. If you look like you don't care, they'll think you don't care. I'm just fixing you up."
When she's done, your lips are a light pink, and your eyes are bordered with a thin line of eyeliner, mascara accenting your eyelashes and a deep shade of pink outside your eyelids. You can't help but wrinkle your nose in disgust. You feel so...girly, and frilly. Ugh. You can't wait until this is over, when you can just take it all off.
"Now, before you get ready, keep in mind, this is a formal event," she instructs you as she puts her makeup away into her handbag. "Manners, at all times. You have to be courteous, kind, and respectful. You're representing the whole team right now, not just you. You're representing all of us. Try to behave like a lady."
Oh great. This outta be good, you think. You, formal, behaving like a lady. It's like asking Thor to dress like a girl. It just doesn't work. It's impossible.
"Now come on," she leads you down the hallway to the stairs. "The limo's waiting."
Wait a second. Limo!?