#Thor narrowing his eyes at Loki like hang on why is Loki looking mildly interested in this ...proposal. surely he is not considering it— | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gingerwritess · 4 years

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Theo, my girl, my idol, my star, my main bitch, I gotta read about the first time that Loki is seen out and about after he's been released pleeeaaaasseeeee (and some sexual tension wouldn't hurt)

part 18 of predating idiots, in which you speak with that idiot for the first time since…everything happened. (he hasn’t exactly been released, but close enough ;))

warnings: long ass chapter with blood, injuries, pain, alongside some denial and awkward moments :))

Life without a fake-boyfriend has become rather, well, quiet.

No more surprise visits with only the excuse “I’m dying” being given, no more lying about the exceptional dates you’ve been on…no more ridiculously attractive doctor on your arm.

No one’s stealing your bagels anymore. That’s a plus.

But work is slow, suddenly. The weight of the secret, sneaking Loki into your office to eat and sleep and rushing him home on lunch breaks for a shower, was, in it’s own twisted way, exciting.

Loki admitting to the fact that it’s been “centuries” keeps floating back into your consciousness. You continually choose not to dwell on it.

Your first day back after Tony gave you a four day weekend to recoup went smoothly, without a single hitch nor a word from your special alien. Asking about him while trying to remain casual didn’t get you far, so you resigned yourself to a quiet day at your desk, sometimes sending Marcus off to make copies for you when even he looks bored.

“I’ve gotta admit,” he pipes up one day from his station at the doorway, “I kinda miss Lucky. Thought maybe I’d get to stop a bad guy, that’d look good on a résumé.”

You shake your head with a laugh, scrolling through a file of release records. “Sorry you’ve got to just watch me all day. Can’t be the most exciting thing.”

“I don’t mind.” He shrugs. You don’t look up.

Another day ticks by, then another, and then a whole week and you still haven’t heard a single bit of accurate information regarding Loki.

Plenty of false information is circulating though, and you pick up bits of pieces around the break rooms and bathrooms.

“Yeah, he got the chair, they wouldn’t have kept him alive.”

“No, they’re rehabilitating him. He’s of use, he’s basically another Thor, don’t you think shield would want to hang onto him?”

“What, make him a new avenger?” The voice by the sinks laughs, and the faucet shuts off. “Just what we need. Another superhero. Jesus, I can’t keep up.”

Break rooms are to be avoided as of late, since you can’t go near another coworker without them jumping you with questions, assuming you must know what happened to him.

“Wish I knew,” you always reply. It’s not exactly a lie.

This fine morning, you pass the god of thunder on the way to the copy room. He gives you a grimace of a smile, lifts a hand, and turns to walk back the way he came before you can call out to him.

Strange. You haven’t seen Thor since the day Loki confessed.

Assuming he’s been busy helping his brother, you hadn’t worried about what he’s been thinking of you. Granted, his impressions of you haven’t been of the greatest, most respectable caliber, from asking you if you were attracted to his brother to watching you rip his brother’s shirt from him while straddling him on a bed—

Yeah, it’d be better not to dwell on what awkwardness Thor may have started to feel towards you. You’d rather not know his thoughts.

Then the next day, Thor is there again. You manage to get in a wave this time, giving him your politest please-don’t-talk-to-me smile and heading for the copy room again.

This time, the god follows you, fidgeting with the strap of mjolnir.

“I would like to talk to you,” he announces, trying to lean casually in the doorway. It doesn’t work well for him, so he straightens up and goes back to fidgeting with the hammer, staring at you.

“Okay…go for it.”

“I’d like to-to—” he breaks off and clears his throat. Finishing your copies, you turn to him with your eyebrows raised.

“Yes?”

“I’d, uh, like to apologize.”

Your brow knits in confusion and you cock your head at him. “What for?”

“Not to you,” Thor clarifies with a nervous laugh. “Sorry. Do I owe you one?”

“No, not really, I guess.”

“I’d like to apologize,” he tries again, “to, uh, to my brother. You know, Loki.”

“Ah.” You nod with a tight smile. “Yeah, I’m acquainted with him.”

Thor lets out a relived laugh at that, tossing mjolnir in the air and catching it. “Of course you are. The only trouble is, I don’t quite know how.”

“And you’re coming to me because…”

“Because you may know this Loki better than anyone.”

“Right.” Biting your lip, you stare at the crease in Thor’s brow. This Loki. A bit of a terrifying thought, really, but he may be right. However unpleasant, your interaction may have been the first semi-normal one Loki had had in a long time. “Well, um, how can I help?”

“How…bad is he?”

That’s a loaded question, and you pretend to look through your papers while you think. “He’s in a bad state,” you venture to say, “he’s definitely hurt. Somebody hurt him, and not just physically.”

“Right. Alright.” Thor nods, tossing his hammer back and forth between his hands. “I can work with that. Sensitivity, I’m getting good at that.”

“Good for you,” you laugh. “Be careful with him. I mean, I don’t know him very well. But I know he’s not one to open up, so…go slow. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the apology.”

In all reality, you have no idea if Loki will give a shit about Thor’s apology, but in theory it sounds like a good thing to happen. It can’t go terribly wrong.

“Just be gentle with him, will you?”

Thor nods. “Of course.”

You rifle through your papers, gaze dropping to them to avoid his. “Where, uh, where is he, by the way?”

Your stomach flips at the sound of the question leaving your mouth, but hopefully you can pass it off as casual curiosity, keeping your gaze trained intently on the papers in your hand.

“The healing wing,” Thor replies with a growing smile. “The two-hundred and third room. I am sure my brother would be happy to see you, my lady.”

“He hates me,” you answer way too quickly, flashing him a forced smile and pushing past him. “He won’t—no, he doesn’t—heh. Just curious. Thanks.”

—

Curious enough to go find him on your lunch break, that is.

Room 203 is a drab white room that reeks of disinfectant, one single bed in the center next to stacks of monitors and a cot-like couch beside it. It’s an improvement from the cell, you’ll give them that, but the pure white gives you a headache the moment you enter, and Loki still looks trapped.

Trapped, and deliberately expressionless upon seeing you sneaking through the doorway.

“Hello.”

He says it carefully, eyes narrowing at you as you wring your hands with a sheepish grin.

“You’re, ah, looking better.”

More like an angry cat who just had to resign itself to the fact that baths are inevitable, but better nonetheless.

“I feel like my limbs have been filled with lead,” Loki replies. He limply tries to lift his arms for emphasis.

“Nothing a god can’t lift, I’m sure,” you laugh, taking the few steps needed to be by his bedside. His piercing gaze tracks every one.

Checking his water jug and the tray of food still untouched by his bedside, you give him a mildly disapproving look, one he certainly disapproves of. “I bet you’d feel better if you ate something.”

“Not interested.” He sinks back into the pillows, watching you with hawk-like precision. “Why are you here?”

You give him a casual once-over, disguising it with a quick look about the room, as well. His arm is in a sling—that’s new, he must be cooperating at least a little if they’ve been treating him.

“Uh, curious,” you decide to answer. “I’m curious, just, y’know, want to make sure you’re being treated right. You healing up?”

Loki nods. Yes, he is healing, technically, but at a glacial pace that’s nearly historic for asgardian abilities. Maybe he had pushed his limits a little too far with all the illusions and covering undressed wounds for so long.

Your not-so-discrete scrutinizing of his shirtless body doesn’t slip his notice and reopens a whole other wound, but he can’t think about that right now. Or ever.

“You’re wearing a sling,” you lamely point out, desperate to fill the silence, and mentally slap yourself.

“That I am,” Loki replies, and can’t help the smug little smirk that starts to turn the corners of his lips. You’re a bit out of sorts—this could be fun. “Did you miss me, darling?”

Your face goes sour, crinkling at the nose. “Don’t call me that.”

Loki breathes deep with a grin, and Dr. Laing takes his place in the bed, lounging much more seductively, injury free and on his side, with an arm draped over his hip.

“You missed me, didn’t you.”

“If you weren’t on the verge of death and in a hospital, I would slap the shit out of you.”

Laing laughs as he fades back into Loki; it’s a tired sound, scratchy and painful and rattling in his chest, but somehow he manages to sound so disdainfully full of himself that you don’t know if you want to soothe his aches or cause him a handful more.

He does look better though. Weak, definitely still as weak as before, but better. Not so gaunt.

“Have you been eating well, then?” You ask, pulling up a chair beside him. “You’ve filled out a little.”

“Define well,” he replies with a quirk of his eyebrow.

“More fast food, I take it.”

“If I wasn’t close to death before, I am now.”

“Well, take what you can get.” You reach over and give him a pat on the arm, just one awful pat before you think better of it and immediately hate yourself for doing that. “So, uh, what was the verdict? On your…y’know. Crimes.”

Loki shifts on his pillows, trying to sit up a little straighter, and his blanket slips further down to his hips as he struggles to with one arm.

“My crimes…right, trying to conquer the planet. Those crimes.”

Without thinking, you lean in and straighten his blankets for him, tugging them back up to lay just under his arm.

His voice dies in his throat, and he stares.

You stare, too, but unfortunately at the bruises littering his ribs and the scar racing right over his heart.

“There you go staring again,” he says, clearing his throat. “Are you quite finished?”

Ripping your gaze from his chest, you meet his narrowed eyes and swallow thickly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Are you…are you using any illusions right now?” You gesture at him, emphasizing his relatively scar-free face.

“I may be,” he replies.

“Why? You should be healing, not hiding anything.”

His eyes roll and he sighs. “I do still have some semblance of a reputation to uphold. Maybe no longer with you, and something must be done about that, but as for the others, they don’t need to know any more.”

“I don’t really care about your reputation,” you tell him, and he laughs as if that were obvious. “Or any image you’re trying to make of yourself, just so you know.”

“Oh, you did miss me, mortal.”

“No,” you snap, “I just…well, I don’t want you getting any more hurt than you are. And…maybe might have been a tiny bit worried.”

The last part you blurt, staring out the window with a burning gaze. You would like him to know, just for the sake of knowing that he’s not necessarily alone in this, but when you say it out loud, like that…

Loki appears to have swallowed something sour, when you glance back at him, and he stares at you.

Confusion, maybe?

Or maybe just shock. Or maybe he has morphine pumping through his veins; that’s a very possible answer.

“Are you on morphine?” You whisper when he doesn’t move, still staring. “That stuff can kill you, y’know. Careful.”

Slowly, he nods, lips parted.

“I…am.”

“On morphine?” You give him a sad smile. “That’s why you’re being friendly. Well, by your standards.”

“No,” he cuts in, cocking his head at you. “Still using an illusion.”

You nod, glancing down at your hands in your lap. “I figured. You can take it off now, I’ve already seen the worst of it.”

Room 203 falls silent for a moment, nothing but the air conditioning whirring in the background as a wave of green energy passes over Loki’s body.

“Just for you,” he clarifies when you look back up at him, “only for you.”

“Of course. I won’t tell.”

Taking a steady breath, you scoot forward in the chair and begin your inspection, ghosting along the parts of him you can, too used to cleaning him up to the point where it’s almost routine. He sits quietly, you point out to him which bits he should really show the others, berate him again for waiting so long to tell the truth.

“I lie,” he murmurs, and you almost catch a smile playing at his lips. “It’s what I do.”

“Roll on your side,” you simply respond. “You’re letting them treat your back, aren’t you?”

He grimaces, but doesn’t move. “In a way.”

“Please? Can I see?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“I don’t know if you realize this,” you exhale, exasperated already, “but I’m a little more trusted here than you are. I can help you, if you’ll let me.”

He squares his jaw, fighting with himself for a second longer—then rolls his eyes yet again and turns to face the other direction, exposing his back to you.

“Loki, come on.”

“I tried,” he cuts in before you can berate him further on the hideous state of his lashed back. “Really, I tried, but they can’t treat them yet. It’s not a flogging like any that have happened on Midgard, believe me.”

The thought of something worse than a flogging makes your toes curl, and you gingerly brush your fingertips over his shoulder before the sight makes you retch; one of the few unmarked patches of skin left on his back.

“You’re still bleeding.”

He nods, face turned from you. “I would imagine so.”

“Bled through your sling…” a quick look around finds the spare cloths and towels in the cabinet under his bed stand, and you take a couple soft rags. “Want me to, y’know, clean you up?”

He’s silent for so long you wonder if he’s fallen asleep, but then he nods, just once.

“I would–I would appreciate that.”

His whole body jerks with every few dabs of the cloth, trying to at least stop the trickling and sop up what’s pooled in the bony dip of his shoulder blade.

You try to tell Loki which cuts desperately need stitches, but he just chuckles dryly and explains that these cuts aren’t meant to heal; that they rip and open any stitching or bandages applied to them. Each attempt to close the wound is predestined to worsen it.

“So you’ll always have these?”

“Until I can find a way to heal them,” he grunts, letting you help him sit up, “yes. It’ll be wonderful for when I’m feeling nostalgic.”

The sling, as it turns out, is covering a much deeper gash than the rest, one that the skin around the edges looks burnt—but weirdly enough, also looks almost crystallized where it should be scabbed. Almost…icy.

You don’t know what to say to that, so you just continue in silence to switch out his sling, sick to your stomach. Nothing you could possibly have to offer, any assistance from anyone on earth could make up for that.

It’s been a couple months now, since New York. There have been no other attacks, clean up has been relatively successful with the camaraderie of the nation. The avengers have been assembled, tested, and proven effective.

Loki’s in custody, no longer hiding, no longer blackmailing you into keeping his secrets while he runs. He hasn’t stepped out of line since, he’s been offering his knowledge, he’s been cooperating.

Yet he’s the only one still bleeding.

“Loki,” you say quietly, glancing at the door, “are they actually helping you?”

He gives his shoulder a testing roll with a wince. “That’s too tight,” he tells you, tugging at the fresh sling. “I’m being treated. Accordingly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve received the help I need.”

“I don’t believe you,” you reply with a huff, fighting with the knot in his sling. “I mean, has Thor even come to see you? He told me he wants to talk to you, but he’s the only person who’s mentioned you…”

Loki gives you a nod when you finish with the sling, finally lifting his head to look at you with an illusion-less face, ripped flesh around his lips where a cord stitched him silent.

A fist closes around your heart, clenching it and leaving a hollow ache in your chest. Your skin burns at the sight of him.

“You’re staring again.”

“Sorry.”

The stitching was crude, unevenly spread along his upper lip, and the left side has a couple gashes where the skin is torn all the way through. Must’ve had to rip out it himself.

“Don’t victimize me,” he warns. “Don’t make me into something I’m not. Don’t.”

Your jaw clenches, eyes flitting from his lips to meet his gaze. “How do you expect me not to?”

He drops his head back to his pillow, shutting his eyes.

“You should leave.”

“Yeah.” You stand, and he doesn’t open his eyes. The closer you look, his scars are fading again, back under the facade you broke. “I probably should.”

Before you can stop yourself, your hand moves to touch him, just once on the back of the hand that’s draped over his chest. He grabs your wrist before you can.

“I don’t think I trust you,” he whispers, eyes still shut tight.

A lump catches in your throat. “You–you can, you know.”

“I know.” He takes a shaking breath, wincing as his blood soaks the pillows. “That’s why I don’t.”

—

You give him a week.

You hadn’t gotten even half the answers you had gone in there for, leaving with more questions than before, if anything.

It’s hard to tell if he was pleased to see you.

So you give him a week. No visits, no telling him he needs to eat, no mention of him behind his back.

That week passes as normally as it could be.

By the next, you find yourself outside room 203 once again, psyching yourself up to just walk in there and cut right to the chase, not giving him even an inch over you.

But you open the door and he’s on his stomach, fists ripping the sheets as a nurse with a needle stitches the lashings on his back shut.

He’s bleeding. Badly.

“No,” you blurt, “stop, don’t do that–”

Your tongue falls limp in your mouth, and completely against your will, you walk straight to the couch beside the bed and sit.

Nothing you can do will allow you to move, and you spend the next few minutes struggling against invisible bonds, shouting silently into oblivion that you’re making it worse, horrified at the sight of Loki’s serene expression as he stares at you.

You can see it getting worse; each stitch undoes the last, reopening the wound from the beginning so that by the time she’s moved to the next cut, the one just finished is a fresh, open wound.

Even with his face perfectly calm, his gaze stone-set on you, his body betrays him. He jerks with every pierce of the needle, the vein on the side of his neck bulges, and he’s ripped the sheets by his fist.

It looks like pure agony, and you can’t do a single thing about it.

So you sit there, frozen to your seat and silenced, until the nurse gives up and apologizes for another failed attempt, promising that they’re trying to find a type of material that can hold as she tries to soak up the blood. She wraps his torso and he stays silent the entire time, knowing full well that nothing will change, and doesn’t move after she’s left the room.

You take a deep breath as Loki does, and the restraints on your body and tongue fall away.

“What the hell, Loki?!”

“Please don’t yell.”

“I think it’s warranted,” you cry, stomping over to his bedside. “You have a death wish, god, you–you–what the hell were you doing?!”

You’re shaking, half from the horror of having to sit there and watch him endure that, but mostly from rage—he could’ve stopped her.

“Why the hell didn’t you say anything?!”

“Shh…”

“Oh, don’t you shush me, I’m so sick of this–I-I can’t believe you made me watch that—”

A cold hand curls around your wrist and yanks, and you fall to your knees by the bedside, nose to nose with the god of mischief.

“Let me bleed,” he grits out, each word ripped painfully from his throat.

“What?”

“Let me…let me bleed.” This time it’s on an exhale and his eyes close, his hand dropping from your wrist.

You can’t find it in yourself to move away from him.

“Why’d you do that, you idiot?”

Half his face squished into the mattress, he manages a hoarse laugh. “Punishment for my sins.”

“That’s not your call,” you hiss, grabbing him by the arm. “You need to roll over, you’re laying on your injury. C’mon, move.”

He actually obliges and the two of you struggle to roll him onto his uninjured side. It’s not exactly comfortable, for either of you, and you realize after the fact that you had to practically hug the guy in order to haul him onto his side.

That’s probably why he went so stiff.

And…why he’s staring at you as if you’d sprouted wings, trying to catch his breath.

“Sorry,” you mutter, a little out of breath yourself from trying to lift him. “You’re a fucking masochist, you know that?”

“Oh, don’t act so surprised.” He forces out another laugh.

Always laughing.

Always bleeding, always laughing. It’s exhausting, not to mention unbearably irritating when you’re nearly writhing in pain for him.

“Do me a favor, darling.”

“Don’t call me—oh, wait, do you want me to slap you?”

Another dry laugh, but this one sounds truer.

“Don’t make me beg,” he grins, and you almost find yourself wanting to grin back; it’s a breath of fresh air, after all the blood and pain. “Please, would you do this for me?”

“Yeah.” You can’t help the tiny smile you offer back, hidden behind your exasperated sigh. “Yeah, of course.”

“Tie my hair back?”

You swear his cheeks burn bright red, but he doesn’t let his empyrean expression waver, sinking subtly deeper into the pillows and handing you a thin strip of leather.

“Sorry,” he says when you take it, voice muffled, “it only gets matted with blood if I leave it down. I’d cut it, but I can’t be wasting strength on that in this condition—”

“I get it,” you assure him with a smile. “Don’t worry. You’ve already ruined your reputation with me.”

“Right. Thank you for the reminder.”

Biting back a grin, you pull the strip of leather between your hands. “I’ll do it, on one condition.”

“You are unbearably difficult.”

“Thank you.” You lean towards him, a tiny, smug grin just turning at your lips. “You answer any question I ask while I’m doing it. And no lies, trickster.”

He mulls it over for a moment, halfheartedly glaring at your smug self. You do look sure of yourself, leaning onto his bed, eyes narrowed playfully, his leather cord taut between your fingers. Daring him to disagree.

It’s not a bad look. Confidence, he supposes. Power.

The day has reached sunset, and in this moment of weakness Loki can’t help but notice—the light filtering through the lone hospital room window hits your face in a rather flattering way.

That, or maybe it’s been so long since someone smiled at him, laughed with him, teased him—maybe it’s…nice.

Maybe it’s been missed.

Maybe…that would be alright.

― ― ― ―

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#loki x reader #loki reader insert #loki imagine #loki slowburn series #loki angst #loki fluff #pre-dating idiots #loki requests #loki fanfiction #loki drabbles #loki laufeyson

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imagine-loki · 4 years

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Coat hooks (5 + 1)

TITLE: Coat hooks CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: ONE-SHOT AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine one time, Loki hung you by the back of the shirt on a door peg to keep them from running head-first into trouble. Now he does it whenever you gets particularly annoying. RATING: T-M NOTES/WARNINGS: Um… I can only apologize for this. I saw this prompt and thought it would make a funny 5 + 1.

So, for your consideration–the five times Loki hung Lily from a hook for no goddamn reason and the one time he did it to be a hero. Each subsequent drabble is in reverse chronological order (so you go further into the past with each section). Some spicy language and a very cute friendship. Also, a speed-run, so there may be errors.

“Come on! What’s the point in knowing all this hocus pocus if you don’t share it with anyone?” Lily argued for the twelfth time that hour.

Loki swallowed the string of expletives that were currently accumulating on his tongue. This newest member of their rag-tag team had a way of slipping under his skin and cause his blood pressure to rise with her antics. She was nice enough–didn’t presume of her abilities, carried her weight on missions, competent–but had adopted a certain familiarity with the whole group that made him uncomfortable. Her lack of hesitation in inundating him with questions about anything and everything concerning other realms coupled with the fact that she didn’t tend to cower under his withering gaze, as others might, was slowly but surely driving him up a wall.

With a groan, Loki turned on a dime to face her, forcing Lily to stumble backwards to prevent a collision. “Why, for the Norns’ sake, would I take the time to teach you something that took me hundreds of years to master? You’d die long before you made any significant progress!” His tone was matter-of-fact and entirely ignoring the fact that she already had some magical proclivities.

“Well, that’s because you didn’t have yourself as a teacher, so…” Her reply was easy as she shrugged off his concern.

Loki knew she was trying to appeal to his nature and flatter her way into getting some lessons. It annoyed him to think that it was sort of successful–the little, vain creature roosting inside his chest cooed at the praise and offered that it might not be the worst thing in the world to have her as an apprentice. The fact that her baby blue, doe-eyed gaze stared up innocently at him and prodded at whatever was left of his protective nature wasn’t helping matters, either.

“No.” He turned his attention to a handful of daggers on one of the lab worktables and the polishing rags.

Lily groaned, whining incoherently much like a toddler who wasn’t getting their way. “Come on! It’ll be fun!”

“I already told you no, Lillian.”

“Not my name, bro,” she snapped back, ignoring the telling smirk that informed her that he, in fact, knew that wasn’t her name. “You’re just worried I’ll be better than you.”

The rag in his grasp halted in its elegant slide down the blade. “What was that?” His tone was dangerous, but it barely registered on her expression, as per usual.

“I didn’t stutter,” she replied evenly, crossing her arms over her chest and cocking her hip. Loki stretched to his full height, crowding her form like a shadow. His narrowed eyes evaluated her stubborn features before they glanced shortly at the door. It was only then that she showed any sort of reaction. “No.” She stepped backwards, nearly falling as she tripped over her own two feet, Loki followed her with ease. “No. No, no, no…”

“Thor needs you down at the loading dock,” Bruce announced at the lab door a little while later. “Hey, Lily.” He frowned, doing a double-take at the scowling woman dangling a few feet off the floor while Loki silently polished daggers. “Wha–”

“Don’t ask.”

“Oh…kay,” he agreed, retreating before the situation could get any weirder.

Lily remained immobile, crouched behind a bit of shrubbery waiting for her moment to attack. The muscles in her thighs ached from remaining still in that position for so long, and she was mildly aware of the fact that she wasn’t breathing. All that faded to the background as she heard her target incoming. Just as they rounded the corner, she pounced, like spring snakes packed into a box.

“Boo!”

There was choked grunt of surprise, books and papers alike flying into the air and falling in an awkward mess around them, but the noise was mostly obscured by her raucous laughter.

“I got you! I finally got you!”

The wide grin slid off her face immediately at his darkened expression and she turned to run. Lily had barely made it ten paces before Loki’s arm closed around her waist.

“Whacha do this time?” Natasha asked looking up at the woman hanging from the metal coat rack by the communal kitchen.

“Well, I was–”

“Uh uh uh,” Loki tutted from the kitchen island, sipping at a mug of tea as he made notes in a beautiful leather journal.

Lily sighed, pouting. “I know what I did.”

The sizzling heat coursing through her veins was foreign to her easy-going nature. Rage rattled inside her ribcage until it caused her whole body to shudder with barely restrained venom. This was definitely not the plan she had made on how to spend her Wednesday afternoon. She had expected to be sitting on the grass at the park or sitting with Bruce as he gave a long-winded explanation about why particle physics should be a required course for all majors…

She hadn’t expected to be dangling helplessly off a door hook in a supply closet.

Nor had she thought that she would hang there in silence before being whipped face-to-face with a very confused Tony.

Stark pressed his lips together as hard as humanly possible. He was barely able to stop the snorting laugh that bubbled up his chest at the sight of her hissing in pain, as momentum had made her head had smack against the door. “Don’t tell me–,” he feigned watching her with rapt interest. “Door gremlin? Supply closet troll? Gatekeeper of the broom realm?”

“Get. Me. The. Fuck. Down.”

“Well, that’s not very nice, Lily-pad.” He pouted ridiculously, though it was interrupted by a laugh when she lunged for him, only to have the door gently swing away.

Damn Newtonian physics.

“Tony, I swear to everything you hold dear, I will–”

“You do know I’m still your boss, right?”

“TONY!”

Loki allowed the left corner of his mouth tilt up the slightest bit as he covertly watched Lily stomp her way through the hallway towards the common room. His eyes fixated back onto the book in his hands, making a spectacle of licking his middle finger to turn the page.

“I see you’ve been released from your prison,” he remarked casually just as she flitted by.

Lily stopped in her tracks, spine stiffening and fists clenching closed. “I was in there for three hours, Loki!”

“You shouldn’t have called me an evil smurf.” His grin stretched at the sound of her groan and he followed her path back down the corridor before she disappeared at the bend.

Loki burst into Lily’s room on a quiet morning. She was still in her casual attire, shorts and a t-shirt, and her smoke grey pixie cut locks sticking out in all directions. It took her a moment to land her eyes on the all-too-put-together demigod, wondering if he simply magicked himself dressed every morning and lucky he must be to be able to do that. She offered him a sleepy smile before sipping at more of her coffee.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Her small form bundled up into ball on the corner of her loveseat, conserving heat.

“I am meant to keep you distracted, but I can’t be bothered. So, come on,” he responded simply, gesturing with his head at the door.

Shrugging, she padded barefoot behind him until they reached his living quarters. He silently gestured her inside. As soon as the door closed behind them, Lily yelped at the pull around her waist and the sensation of her feet leaving the soft carpet below. The familiar sensation of weightlessness filled her as her feet brushed empty air and she gained a vantage point several feet above her height. To his credit, Loki always made sure that her shirt didn’t dig into her arms and neck or got damaged, but it was a little annoying that this had become his go-to response in having to deal with her.

“No useless protest? No pleading for freedom?” He asked curiously as he glanced up at her passive face.

She shrugged, a little awkwardly in her position. “I’ve had worse birthdays. And I have coffee.” She sipped from her cup as if to prove her point. “Do you mind getting me a blanket, though? It’s cold in here.”

Loki chuckled, flashing a genuine smile in her direction before he nodded. He summoned a thick, woolen blanket and wrapped it carefully around her form, laughing to himself at the absurdity of it all. Lily was so genuinely laid-back. He wondered whether her connection with flora imbued her with some sort of cosmic calm or if she simply wasn’t worried about anything that Loki might do. He also found it was hard to justify keeping her immobile on the hook when she had done nothing to deserve it.

He groaned at her friendly smile just as he had finished tucking her in. “Ugh, fine. You can sit with me, I guess.” Her feet met the ground a moment later.

“Score!” She shuffled, blanket and all and burrowed into one side of the sofa while he took the other. “Coffee?” She offered her mug from within the dense folds of the blanket.

“No. I’m alright, thank you.” As an afterthought, he added. “Happy birthday, Lillian.”

Loki had made a mistake.

Honestly, that was the reason he did not often contribute to conversations, either in the common room or during meetings. Everything he said was subject to a Midgardian lens and terrible misinterpretation. Well, he could have called it misinterpretation had it actually been so, but the resulting pity he was receiving was, nonetheless, ill-received.

“Have you really not gotten a hug in three years?” Lily asked, following him down the hallway to the library.

He rolled his eyes, barely resisting the urge to groan. “Yes, and I’ve yet to perish because of it. Imagine that.” He glanced over his shoulder to find Lily staring at him wistfully. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Sorry.” She broke contact, cutting her view elsewhere to blink away at tears that now clung to her eyelashes. “I just–well, I’d be sad if it were me. But, I guess you’re different. Of course you’re different.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, his attention seemingly diverted at the spines of several leather-bound tomes on the shelf. In reality, he was trying not to squirm under her evaluation. “Stop it.”

Lily had stepped away just a bit to reach for a separate stack of books.

Another moment passed and he turned in her direction right after he slammed the book onto the reading table. “Stop it or leave.”

“Sorry, I can’t help it!”

“I do not need your ridiculous pity or your sentiment or your tears. I don’t need you to care ab–”

“You’re lucky someone does,” she sassed under her breath.

Lily had barely any time to react before the god was crowding her. His fists had bunched the collar of her t-shirt and he had walked her backwards into a wall, all within the span of a few seconds. Loki expected her eyes to turn wide in fear, but she was just as even-keeled now as she had been while talking about her forest spies, earlier.

Somehow, that annoyed him more.

His arms trembled in an effort to contain himself, jaw clenched and the muscles jumping. He knew that if he remained in that position for any longer, something unfortunate was bound to happen. With a snarl, he lifted her easily onto a coat peg along the wall.

“I don’t need your presence or your misplaced sense of friendship,” he hissed, releasing her shirt.

“Good, ‘cause I don’t want to be around you, anyway!” She snapped and regretted it immediately.

Loki’s whole body had gone rigid, his scowl had fallen but for a second, but it was enough to tell her that was the exactly wrong thing to say. He had left before Lily managed to find her words again to try and cobble together an apology.

After a few minutes of struggle, Lily slipped out of her shirt and crumbled onto the ground. She pulled the garment off the hook and back onto her body. Just as she was headed towards the exit, however, she was surprised to find Loki doubling back. He stopped short of her, his eyes trailing downwards, instantly.

“I apologize for…” He trailed off, fidgeting in a way very much unlike him.

Lily swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Loki, I didn’t mean it.” He nodded silently.

“I know. But that makes it rather worse, doesn’t it?” His voice was barely above a whisper. “You knew it’d hurt.” He stuck his hands into the pockets of his trousers before he managed to glance back up. “Then again, I had the same intention, didn’t I?” He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

He had barely gotten the words out before her arms had tightened around him, his own stuck to his sides. A smile tugged at his lips as he managed to free one of his limbs to let it cling around her shoulders.

“Now I’ll have to start the timer all over again!”

“Shut up!” She mumbled back from somewhere against his chest.

Loki had barely managed to pull Lily out of the blast of flying debris of an exploding containment wall before it turned her into a colander. The easy mission to a supposedly abandoned bunker was not going according to plan. For starters, it was most definitely not abandoned. Secondly, they had sent the two worst-suited members of the team: one still very green, pun intended, and another with dubious understanding of the phrase kill only when strictly necessary.

Lily had shifted to her knees to peer down a narrow hallway, eyes trained on a group of HYDRA agents coming their way. She inhaled deeply, letting her body charge to ready herself to attack. Loki caught her movement, and had pulled her by the scruff of her suit and behind him.

“Hey, what gives!?” She hissed under her breath, smacking his hands off her form.

He scoffed. “What’s your grand plan, throw flowers at them? No. You are to sit this out. It’s too much of a risk.”

“I know how to fight, Loki.” She rolled her eyes when he returned her petulant gaze with one of his own. “Thor would let me fight. He doesn’t think he’s above me because he’s an Asgardian.”

“Yes, and he would shed pretty, pretty tears at your grave.”

Lily shoved him, though she had to ignore the fact that he barely budged when she did. “I earned my place on the team the same way you did. My powers may be different from yours–”

“Yes, you earned your place, but I also know your power comes from the forests and you get weakened the longer you are away from them. You already tired yourself getting us in here, so you’re going to be vulnerable against trivial little things like bullets and death.” He sassed back, rolling his eyes.

Another volley of gunfire had them crouching down. Lily peaked out from between her arms, spying the incoming form. Her hands extended purposefully, her veins all pulsing bright green before meter-long thorns flew through the air. Impaled, the agent slumped to the floor as Lily sagged, panting. She once more made to move into open space, forcing Loki to grab pull her back. This time around, she offered less resistance.

“Stand. Down!” He sounded like a hell-beast, lips snarling.

“I’m fighting with you, whether you like it or not! You’re not the boss of me!” She struggled in his iron grasp while he debated how to best keep her out of harm’s way.

This woman was proving to be a handful with an idiotic sense of bravery. When Steve had sent them off on mission, he didn’t think he would be doing as much babysitting as this. Loki wasn’t very bothered by the fate of a single human, but he was pretty sure there would be protest if he brought back a corpse rather than their new recruit.

A glint of silver along the wall caught his eye–a wire hook meant for anchoring cables. With barely a thought, he hoisted her by her suit and released her. The fabric caught on the hook and left her dangling.

“Stay.” He ordered, leaving no room for argument.

“Loki, don’t you fucking dare!” She swung for his body, but deftly swooped out of the way. “Put me down!”

When he circled back to rescue her, he flashed an impish grin made all the more manic by the blood speckling his face, only a small fraction of it his. “You’ve missed all the fun, pet.”

“I am not a child! You had no right to do this!” Her words barely held any heat. Loki could tell she was struggling to even remain awake after repeated bouts of using her ability.

“I meant no offense,” he defended, lowering her to the ground, “but you were exhausted. You still are.”

“I could’ve helped.”

“You could have died,” he riposted, frowning. He tilted her chin up with the flat of a bloodied blade, forcing her gaze upwards. “Let us leave that honor for something better than a petty raid, shall we?” Loki had eased his tone and offered her a sincere smile.

“Fine.” Lily pouted, staring straight down the hall they were to exit through. “Just… don’t ever do that again, OK? It’s humiliating.”

Loki chuckled, an expression of clear amusement on his face. “Oh, darling, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

#Loki #God of Mischief #Others #Submitted one shot #submission #Coat Hooks (5 + 1)#Fanfictrashdump

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mostfacinorous · 4 years

Text

Stoki Whumptober Day 15: Into The Unknown [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12][13][14]

When he was removed from the cell the next day-- or let out, depending on how you looked at it, he had managed to get himself back to a state of being reasonably well put together.

“So I uh-- heard you didn’t sleep so great. Sorry about that. I had forgotten that Jarvis has problems when I ask him to monitor Thor’s vitals, too.”

Loki flapped his hand dismissively at Stark’s apology; he didn’t feel like going into the fact that his baseline would be wildly different from even Thor’s. It didn’t matter much.

“How is the Captain?” He asked instead.

Stark hummed.

“Seems fine now-- that was a pretty wild treatment, though, so I think it’d be good to keep an eye on him.”

He held the door open to allow Loki to board the elevator.

“We got breakfast delivered, so I imagine he’ll be there-- and Barnes, too.” Stark looked wary, and Loki wondered what part of the gathering caused that.

He found it odd that Stark seemed suddenly at ease around him, but perhaps his performance with Rogers the night before, and his relative lack of ill-will after being nearly roasted by his machine had given him some sense of confidence in Loki’s intentions.

Bold of him to assume that Loki’s goodwill extended to him. But then again, all of his windows were thus far intact, so perhaps there was some small basis for it. It wasn’t a high bar to clear.

“You seem… somewhat less than enthused about breakfast.” Loki offered it as an observation, but it was a question, ever so delicate, probing gently to learn more about these people he’d fought so often. He’d certainly never been allowed this close before, into their home. Or, home-base, at least. He knew Rogers had a place of his own, outside of the tower.

Stark lifted one shoulder listlessly. But before he had a chance to elaborate, the elevator announced their arrival with a cheerful ping and the doors slid open onto a scene of surprising domesticity.

The Avengers were gathered around the table, shy only Stark and alongside Barnes and a woman that Loki only knew peripherally as Pepper Potts, Stark’s good half.

“So, now we’re all here-- good morning everyone--” Stark began, but was interrupted by Barnes snorting.

“It’s after noon.” Banner pointed out, clearly amused, and Loki blinked. He must have slept longer than he’d thought, to compensate for the heat and his efforts the day prior.

“Well, yeah, okay. After noon. Happy brunch. Point is-- Loki. Steve. James Barnes-- what are we calling you these days? Bucky?”

Stark’s edgy energy was back, and Loki realized it was centered around the Soldier. Fascinating, that Stark was literally more at ease with Loki at his back than with Barnes at his table.

“James is probably fine.” He said mildly, buttering some toast and casually avoiding eye contact.

Rogers, too, seemed unsurprised but on guard.

Interesting. And charming. A crack in their united front, and Loki wasn’t even the cause. He ought to be offended, he supposed. Instead, he was merely amused.

“Right. So. James… after you stopped in on Loki last night, did you notice anything… weird?”

Rogers looked thoroughly confused-- Loki wondered at that. Had Barnes not told him about his stepping in? Loki would think he would-- to curry favor, prove himself as a good person, if nothing else.

Barnes sat his toast down, only a single bite taken from it.

“Define weird.” He said slowly, almost like the words were a threat.

“Your arm.” Stark said, clearly trying not to sound eager and coming off as smug instead. “I got your message after you were asleep, and asked Jarvis to run a scan, make sure Loki didn’t do anything to you.”

Loki felt his mouth falling open to protest, and, without looking, Stark held up his hand to stop him speaking.

“Your arm has some weird stuff going on with it, but it doesn’t match Loki’s power signature. And last night, it started flaring up. So, did you notice anything weird?”

“You’re asking if I noticed anything weird with my arm while I was asleep?” Barnes reiterated, speaking slowly, as if he was becoming more and more convinced that Stark was an idiot. “No. Because I was asleep.”

“Hang on, why were you scanning him in his sleep?” Rogers demanded. “And why would you visit Loki?”

“To have a chat, Steve, why else do people go see one another?” Barnes snapped back. “Anyway, it didn’t matter, because when I got there, Stark’s robot was in the process of frying the guy’s brain, so…” Barnes trailed off with a sharp glance in Stark’s direction.

Rogers whipped his head around, glaring at Stark who raised his hands defensively. “Loki?” He asked firmly, turning his eyes on him next. “Are you alright?”

“I should be asking the same of you, though your voice is much improved. In fairness, Stark’s machine was concerned because my vital readings did not match that of humans. No harm was intended.” Loki spoke mildly and strode forward to take a seat directly across from Barnes. “But tell me more about this ‘weirdness’. Do you suppose it’s related to the time stone?”

He helped himself to some bread and jam, and began to paint the latter across the former, performatively, of course-- a show of unconcern.

When he glanced up, though, it was his turn to receive the full weight of Barnes’ glare.

“Time stone?” The widow asked sharply.

“Oh. I’m sorry-- did they not know?” Loki asked, pretending at surprise.

“Is there a magical artifact in my house, and you didn’t tell me?” Stark demanded.

Banner stood.

“I’m sorry, I’m gonna excuse myself. Ah-- Pepper, can you update me or give me a call if I’m needed?”

“Of course.” She said smoothly, watching him go then turning her eyes back to Rogers and Barnes, who looked both cornered and uncomfortable.

Loki took a bite of his toast.

“Look, as much as I’m not excited about having the time stone here, I think we’re burying the lede. What weird stuff did Jarvis pick up, Tony?” the Hawk spoke up, having held his peace and just made faces for a bit, but, as ever, keeping his eye on the big picture. Loki shot him an appreciative glance.

“Like I said, it started flaring up-- and with the time stone present-- I assume you have it stored in the arm?” Stark asked pointedly, his gaze dropping to Barnes’ shirt sleeve covered prosthetic.

He pushed the sleeve up and opened a compartment, revealing the time stone, glowing a soft green.

To Loki’s eyes, it was pulsing, however faintly, but that wasn’t the real concern.

“It’s corrupting the metal. Or-- the metal is absorbing it?” He murmured, surprised and enthralled. “I’ve never seen something like that happen before.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, at the same time as Barnes snapped “It’s what?”

“Jarvis?” The Widow asked, standing to come closer.

“The stone is emitting a low level of power. I can confirm that the metal of Sergaent Barnes’s arm is absorbing it. It is, however, also releasing it back and amplifying the power in the stone’s direction at a .20 percent increase from the original radiation.”

Loki nodded.

“The pulsing-- the arm is absorbing the power, storing it, and then releasing it back stronger. This, in turn, overflows the limits of the stone-- causing it to release more.”

Barnes immediately plucked the stone from the compartment with his flesh hand.

“That’s all well and good,” Loki said, “but that leaves us with one problem: we’ll need to draw the power out of your arm.”

Rogers looked to him. “Can you do that?”

“I can.” Loki said. “I cannot guarantee there will not be lingering effects, but the excess we can draw out. Only, I will need to do something with it.”

Loki turned to look at Stark.

“Are you capable of building some sort of containment for it?”

“I don’t even know what ‘it’ is, that’s a power source unlike any we’ve seen before.”

“And the longer it stays within the cavity of Barnes’s arm, the more it grows.” Loki said calmly, then sighed.

“I can… try to ground it, or disperse it, but until I try, until I have it in my hands, I will have little idea as to the best way. Is there a safe place that Barnes and I may go to try and mitigate any damage we may cause?”

Loki saw Barnes narrow his eyes, and it did not escape him the way his flesh fist clenched all the tighter around the stone.

“I have the space upstate-- pretty isolated, big plot of land. That should be safest. I’m going with you, of course-- I gotta see this. And I doubt Steve’s gonna want to stay behind.”

“Nope.” Rogers responded quickly.

“We’ll hold down the fort here.” The widow responded, clearly not needing to ask the hawk how he felt about such exercises. Loki nodded in acknowledgement.

“To upstate, then.”

---

The upstate facility seemed to be somewhat more like a hangar than a tower, which Loki was grateful for. Less to fall on them, should something go wrong. And Stark insisted it was well built, launching into specifications and logistics than Loki had no interest in and didn’t understand.

Instead, upon arrival, he’d begun arranging a table with chairs for himself and Barnes-- opposite sides, to keep the surface between them. For Barnes’ peace of mind, more than anything else.

Loki settled down and gestured at the table.

“If you’re ready.” He said.

Barnes took his seat, and lay the limb out. Loki had been, admittedly, curious about it, and was finally being allowed his first close up examination of the thing.

“The workmanship is beautiful. Utilitarian, yes, but intricate and graceful all the same.” Loki ran his fingers gently up the edges where he knew the hollow was, able to feel the energy humming beneath his fingertips.

“I don’t need a narration.” Barnes said, sounding uncomfortable and cross, which Loki decided likely translated to scared and trying to hide it.

“Of course.” He answered smoothly.

The panel folded back and away, and he dipped his fingertips into the glowing green pool that had formed in the absence of the time stone.

“Ah.” He said, brow furrowing as he tried to make sense of what it was.

It was cold and hummed, the sensation not unlike being buffeted by a river. But it climbed his arm, and he felt it pulling at him, trying to toss him to or fro, back into the past and forward into the future simultaneously.

He put out a few tendrils of his own power, anchoring himself to the here and now, and urged the energy of the stone up over his fingers, across the back of his hand, and then, as he rolled his wrist, into his palm to pool.

Once he held it and was certain it would not leap forth nor spill through the cracks, he flicked his eyes back to Barnes.

There was no further trace of it there, though the metal sang with the empty echoes of a newly hollow vessel.

“I think you must take care to keep it separate from that metal, going forward. It is… It reacts oddly.”

Indeed, it was vibrating with a movement he was not used to feeling from time related magics. It had become agitated with its constant duplication, and it wanted now to burst free.

He frowned.

He could not put it to ground in such a state; it would merely spread itself out, affecting all it touched.

He could attempt to contain it with his own magics, however, and with any luck they might be able to lock that away in more conventional metals, for study or future use.

This course of action decided upon, Loki called his magics up and through him, pulling from the soles of his feet, though the core of him and down his arm to wrap around the power in his palm.

But in doing so, he made one critical error.

Before the power was contained, Loki became unmoored. And the power was interested only in spreading, now. He felt as it latched on to his power and tried to pull back, but it was no good, and too late.

The power of the stone slid within him, and he felt as time within him lurched, shifted, and changed.

#Stoki Whumptober2020 #Stoki #Frostshield #Capfrost #Steve Rogers #Loki #MCU Fanfic #Whumptober #That Writing Thing I do #I am so excited for tomorrow's installation you guys

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veliseraptor · 7 years

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I was thinking of this today and just wondered if I missed it - did you write any Loki and Scott Lang conversations? I just feel like those two together would be interesting - Scott being a former con and all. Not to mention his star-eyed version of Cap dating Loki...I don't know, just curious if you had any thoughts about it...

settling, 1.2k, remember this cold verse, post-”don’t care if heaven won’t take me back”, I have never written much of Scott Lang before and it probably shows but here is a thing!!!

In general, Loki refrained from wandering.

He and Wakanda’s king had reached an…uneasysettlement, of sorts, but Loki did not entirely know what to make of the manand thus could not entirely trust him. His people, he was even less sure of. Hedidn’t confine himself - refused to confine himself - but he didn’t makea habit of lounging in public areas, either.

He’d made an exception today, sitting with hisfeet in a pool in one of the gardens, watching the fish approach and then dartaway, seeking some kind of clarity.

It didn’t seem he was going to find it.

“How long are you going to stand there?” Heasked coolly, without turning. Whoever was standing behind him jumped, whichprobably ruled out Barton.

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” said…Scott Lang,Loki remembered. They’d barely spoken.

“I don’t particularly like it when people try tosneak up on me,” Loki said mildly. He turned his head, just a fraction, so hecould see Lang out of the corner of his eye. “Was there something you wanted?”

“Um…nothing specific.” The man certainlysounded…twitchy.

“Unlikely,” Loki said. “I make you nervous. Idoubt you would seek me out for no reason.”

“I didn’t say no reason,” Lang said. “Isaid nothing specific.” He shifted. “Not that you’re wrong. About thenervous part.”

Loki cocked his head. “But?”

Lang edged forward, after a moment, and satdown. He started taking off his shoes. “Just curious, I guess. How you, uh,ended up here.” He paused, and added, “not quite sure how I did, sometimes.Ex-con running around with a bunch of superheroes.”

That caught Loki’s attention. “Ex-con?”

“Um - ex-convict?” Lang looked self-conscious.“You didn’t know that? I guess, why would you.” Loki raised his eyebrows anotch, and he shrugged one shoulder. “I used to steal things. Used to! I don’tanymore.”

He seemed genuinely concerned that Lokimight…judge him? He felt the urge to laugh. “I think you will find,” he saiddryly, “that a bit of thievery is hardly the worst anyone here has done.”

There were three beats of awkward silence.“Guess that’s true,” Lang said. He stuck his feet in the water. “So, uh. Youand Captain - Steve Rogers, huh?”

Loki felt himself tense. “If you have somethingto say,” he said, and heard his voice shift, turning silky and cold, “say it tome, and keep your mouth shut around him.”

Lang’s eyes widened. “I wasn’t trying to - oh,Jesus, I wasn’t saying - no judgment. None. Promise. Don’t kill me.”

Loki flashed his teeth. “I will not. Steve wouldbe upset.” Lang looked like he was considering bolting, and Loki looked away,flicking his eyes skyward.

“I’m serious,” Lang said. “No judgment. I wasjust, well, surprised. Not that I thought - or that it’s any of my business-”

Surprised, Lokithought bitterly. That someone like him would take up with something likeme? “You are right,” he said, starting to stand. “It is none of yourbusiness.”

“Hey,” Lang said, “seems like you’re doingbetter than I did with my marriage for a while.” Loki paused, surprised. “Yeah,”he said. “Turns out getting arrested and going to jail is hell on arelationship. It got better,” he said, almost defensively.

“Where is your family now?” He asked. Lang saidnothing, and after a moment Loki said, “ah.”

He laughed, a little weakly. “Great timing,right?” Clearing his throat, he added, “but I’m not here to complain to youabout my family problems.”

Loki considered if that was pointed, and decidedit probably was not.

“It’s a little surreal,” Lang went on, when Lokididn’t say anything. “Cap - uh, I mean Steve, he was my childhood hero. Likeeveryone else, but…I grew up on the old comics - Captain America and theHowling Commandos, you know. Reading about him and Bucky Barnes.”

Loki narrowed his eyes. “Old comics?”

“You didn’t - oh, right. Aliens.” Lang shook hishead. “They sure were something. I mean, um, not…historically accurate. I’mpretty sure. Unless there was really a Nazi vampire?” He looked at Lokicuriously.

“I’ve never asked,” Loki said dryly. Lang seemeddisappointed, but Loki resolved to see about finding some of these comics. “Isthat what you wanted to talk about?”

“Not exactly.” Land grimaced. “I’m not sure,honestly. Just trying to figure things out. I don’t really know any of you.Clint and I have been hanging out, some, but…we’re a team, right? I figure Ishould know the people I’m on a team with.”

What Loki thought was you have been spendingtime with Barton and are still speaking to me, but he supposed that mightbe…uncharitable. He and Barton seemed to have reached a kind of…uneasytruce. They were not friends, and perhaps never would be. But in the Raft, whenLoki had been teetering on the edge of sanity, he had offered something likeconcern.

Then something else Lang had said struck him. We’rea team. It was still not easy, to think of himself as part of that we. Hemight have claimed these people as his, but thinking of himself as oneof them was…different.

“Loki?” Lang said, sounding nervous, and herealized he’d been quiet for a while.

“I am not an Avenger,” he said. “Not exactly.You should remember that.”

Lang frowned. “What do you mean?”

“What I said,” Loki said. “My statusis…somewhat nebulous.” He paused. “Though I suppose none of those here areAvengers anymore, exactly.”

He could feel Lang studying him. “What you didwhen we were fighting Iron Man and those guys - that was magic. Right?”

“Mm.”

“It was…pretty incredible. I’ve never seen anythinglike that before, the big snake thing-”

“Sorcery is rare on your planet,” Loki said.“Wanda is…unusual.” Still, he couldn’t help but be flattered, which wasprobably the point.

Lang cleared his throat. “Speaking of, uh,planets…where is Thor?”

Loki thought of the long silence, his ownuncertainty, his own fears, and felt his expression close. “Asgard,presumably.”

“You don’t know?” Lang sounded shocked. Lokiturned his head to look at him coldly.

“No,” he said. “I am exiled from Asgard, so Ihave no means of finding out.”

Lang blinked. “Oh,” he said faintly.“Uh…sorry.” Loki looked back away and did not respond. “Well…nice to talkto you,” he said eventually, plainly awkward, uncomfortable. “See you later?”

This man, Loki thought. He came to you. Nojudgment. A thief, a liar. In older days, the kind of person Loki mighthave claimed for his own.

“You asked how I got here,” Loki said. “Isuppose the simplest answer is that Steve saved my life once, and I did notunderstand why. I wanted to. Needed to. And then I could not walk away.” Heclosed his mouth.

That was enough. All he wanted to say.

“I can understand that,” Lang said, to hissurprise. “Finding someone who…believes in you. It’s good.”

Loki didn’t reply, and after several longmoments he heard Lang leave.

That was it, wasn’t it? he thought, looking downinto the water. The first of all the small steps that had led him here. Steve,believing that Loki’s life was worth saving.

Maybe it was; maybe it wasn’t. But that Stevebelieved it, had believed it even then…that was worth something.

#a wild fic appeared #remember this cold #steve&loki 5ever #cellard00rs #finally knuckled down and finished this!!#it's been 84 years

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