#avengers!loki

Each failure to locate him made a small, irritating knot form in Theo’s chest; a thought that maybe she missed something, or maybe he was avoiding her. She caught herself rolling her eyes at the idea; after all, they were past the point where he’d avoid her if he was mad at her… right?

After each fruitless round of searching, she’d trudge back to her room and try to occupy herself for a bit—painting, practicing instruments, reading medical journals—but the question of where he was and why she couldn’t find him never left the back of her mind, leaving her restless and distracted. It was only a matter of time before she’d abandon her half-hearted distractions and set out on another search.

Her stubborn need to locate him, combined with a pang in her stomach and the realization she hadn’t eaten a damn thing all day, led her on the next search.

Once again, knocking on Loki’s door brought no result.

As she made her way down the hall, the scent of garlic and rosemary floated towards her, accompanied by the sizzle of something cooking on the stove. The mouth-watering combination was all it took for her to decide to make a quick stop in the shared kitchen; after all, she hadn’t found him for hours, so what difference would a few more minutes make?

When she turned the corner into the kitchen, she stopped in her tracks. 

There he was—standing at the stove, hair tied back loosely with a few strands falling free, sleeves shoved past his elbows as he worked. The black collared shirt clung just enough to trace the shape of him: the broad cut of his shoulders, the long lines tapering down his back. Each shift of muscle pulled at the fabric, precise and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. His forearms flexed with every measured turn of the wooden spoon, revealing glimpses of lean muscles in the warm kitchen light. 

And then there were the jeans: dark, slim-fitted, hugging his legs and leaving little mystery about the shape of his hips or the way his ass fit perfectly in them. Sharp, toned, distractingly perfect. 

He was wholly absorbed in the slow swirl of vegetables and cream-colored sauce, seemingly oblivious, while she stood there doing something much less dignified: staring.

Her mouth twitched, equal parts exasperated and entertained by herself. She’d spent the whole day half-convinced he hated her, and the second she found him she was ogling him like a shameless groupie. Still, her eyes lingered longer than they should have before she finally dragged them upwards, silently praying he didn’t notice. She bit the inside of her cheek, heat prickling at the back of her neck. 

“You need not lurk in the distance,” Loki’s voice was low, smooth, carrying that faint edge that made it hard to tell whether he was amused or irritated. “If you have something to say, say it.”

“I’ve been looking for you,” Theo admitted, closing the distance until she stood beside him, leaning her hip against the counter. “But I couldn’t find you anywhere. I started to think you were… avoiding me.” She let the words hang, teasing but not daring to press too hard.

He didn’t answer right away, eyes on the pan. Then, the corner of his mouth lifted ever-so-slightly. “I have been… occupied,” he said, deliberately vague, though his gaze flicked toward her for a fraction of a second.

“Occupied?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Cooking? Working? Errands? Or playing hide and seek with me and not telling me?”

A flicker of green light pulsed across his sleeve as his fingers tightened briefly on the handle of the spoon. “A combination, perhaps,” he said carefully, stirring again. His voice softened just enough that it wasn’t entirely a joke. “I imagine the means by which I occupy my time are not why you sought me out...”

“You’re my friend and I wanted to talk to you?” Theo tried, though Loki sent her a look that told her he knew better.

“… You wish to discuss your rendezvous,” He said flatly, turning back to the stove. After a heavy pause, he sighed. “Dare I ask about the outcome?”

Theo opened her mouth, ready to launch into the sharp little speech she’d rehearsed all day…

… Only for every word to vanish on her tongue.

The neat satisfaction of proving him wrong, of showing she wasn’t rattled—it all crumbled to dust in the silence between them. All she could think of instead was that damn comment of his from before, about why he didn’t date, about how civilians could never understand. 

It was ridiculous that the comment was what stuck, looping in her head while she stood there grasping for anything to say. Her jaw tightened as her fingers drummed restlessly against her arm, nails grazing over her sleeve in short, impatient bursts. She shifted her weight, bracing her hip harder into the counter as if grounding herself against her own annoyance.

Eventually, she took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and cursing herself all the while, before she answered: “…You were right.”

That drew Loki’s gaze fully to her, hard and sharp. His eyes studied her reaction, tracking every flick of her fingers and the curve of her lips. “I explicitly told you not to come crying to me when he hurt—”

“—No, not about that.” She cut him off with a quick shake of her head. “If anyone left that conversation crying, it was him.”

He stilled, spoon paused mid-stir. When it resumed, it moved slower, more deliberately. One dark brow arched, lips pressed thin. “Is that so? At the fundraiser, you said it was not worth it to destroy him.”

“I didn’t destroy him,” Theo countered, confidence returning with a smug twist to her mouth. “I just called him on his bullshit. Not my fault he didn’t like the truth.”

For a flicker of a second, the line of his jaw eased. Not approval, exactly, but something closer to reluctant surprise. His eyes darted briefly to her fingers gripping the edge of the counter. “That is… not quite what I expected you to say.”

“I told you, I wasn’t going because I still had feelings for him,” Theo said, rolling her eyes. “I went because I had questions. The chance to tell him off was just icing on the cake.”

“Questions?” His voice was calm, but she noticed his grip on the spoon tighten, knuckles pale against the wood.

Theo’s shoulders tensed, but she forced them to relax; working herself up wouldn’t do anyone any good. 

“I wanted to know why he left—” she explained, careful to keep her tone casual, nonchalant, “—if what the tabloids spun was true, or if there was more to it.”

Loki’s gaze followed her movements, tracking her hands as they shifted along the counter, and then he folded his arms in perfect mimicry of her own. The wooden spoon clattered faintly as it landed in the pan, more forceful than necessary. “Did you get your answer?”

“Yeah...” She let out a second, heavier breath. “That’s what I meant about you being right: Avengers and civilians don’t mix.”

For the first time, the sharpness in his eyes dulled, and the scowl he wore faded into something more sullen. 

“Typically I relish any opportunity to be correct,” he reluctantly admitted, “But for once it does not hold its usual joy.”

“It’s fine,” Theo waved him off before the heaviness in his tone could settle. “I know now.”

His gaze lingered on her a beat too long, tracking the small curve of her shoulder. “Was it worth your time to meet with him?”

“Yeah, actually.” She found herself smiling, wry and a little surprised. “Turns out I had a lot to say.”

Loki’s chest lifted with a slow inhale, then he tilted his head. His eyes flicked to her fingers again, noticing how she flexed them unconsciously. “Such as?”

“I told him how fucked up it was to constantly degrade someone who protected him from shadow beasts twice and who hadn’t publicly said a bad thing about him, despite having every reason to do so. And how much of a dick move it was to break up with me in a voicemail when he knew I was injured and miserable from fighting; even if he was being honest and was scared about the possibility of me dying someday in a fight, he could have at least waited to tell me to my face. I also told him he needed to call his PR team off and stop using women as a scapegoat for his shortcomings, and that he needed therapy.” She laughed outright, thinking about the way sat there, floundering amidst her verbal onslaught. “He looked like he was about to shit himself when I left.”

“Do you think he will do so?” Loki’s tone was flat, but the faintest glint of amusement caught the edges of his eyes.

“I don’t know. I don’t think anyone’s ever challenged him like that before.”

“And if he does not relent?”

“The best revenge is a life well-lived.” Theo shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips. “If someone asks me about it, I’ll be honest. But I’m not wasting my time responding to him.”

His gaze sharpened again, shoulders drawing taut. His fingers flexed once against the counter, then rested, betraying a flash of tension. “If someone asks?”

“Well…” Theo tilted her head, eyes flicking to his, teasing lightly though her voice stayed calm. “You remember that song I helped record? Loved You A Little? I’m sure when it comes out, people will ask if it’s related.”

The shift in him was immediate, like a door slamming shut. His voice was low, each word measured: “You’ve asserted repeatedly that your feelings for him were not love; and yet, you contributed to a song about loving him?”

Theo stared at him, unimpressed. “If I was just a lie to you, well you were less than that to me—never loved you a little,” She sang, letting the lyric bite the air between them. “It’s literally about not being in love. The guys from The Maine wrote it. They just asked me to sing.”

His jaw eased, but only barely.

He turned back to the stove, adjusting the pan with too much force. The spoon trembled in its orbit before steadying again. His shoulder brushed the edge of the range hood as he leaned over, subtle but stiff, and she caught the faintest tension in his posture.

“What’s gotten into you?” Theo frowned. “You’re acting so weird about this.”

He flicked a glance at her, green eyes unreadable, then back to the pan. “I assumed you were truthful when you said you no longer cared for the actor. Yet after one meeting, after a song that could be twisted to his name, it appears you’ve devoted more energy to him than you claimed. It is reasonable to question.”

“Seriously?” She blinked, incredulous. “That’s what you took from everything I just said?”

He didn’t answer right away, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the pan though he hadn’t so much as touched it. She noticed the way his shoulders tensed slightly each time her eyes flicked to him.

“I told him to go fuck himself,” Theo said sharply. “I humiliated him. I’m not keeping quiet anymore, which means no one can mistake me for still caring. And the song? It’s catchy. I like the band. End of story.” Her voice dropped, fiercer and more resolute: “Nothing about this says I want him. Everything about it says I don’t. If anything, you should be glad I’m standing up for myself instead of letting him drag me down.”

His lips pressed thin, silence stretching again—but she noticed the way his hand flexed once against the counter before curling into a fist. A shadow of something unspoken passed over his face. 

“You risk being hurt again if you do not return to ignoring him.” When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, strained. “He was never worth your time.”

Theo’s own shoulders loosened at that. “I don’t intend to spend another second on Chris. You don’t have to worry about that.” Then, softer, she said, "I wouldn't have agreed to the whole ‘be seen together’ plan if I wanted to be with anyone else.”

Loki’s jaw ticked slightly. His eyes flicked to her lips, then back to her face, and a brief tension lingered in his neck, almost imperceptible, before he exhaled slowly.

The words seemed to land differently than she meant them to. Loki’s head tilted, eyes fixed on her, a flicker of something raw and unguarded in his expression before he masked it. His shoulders eased, the air around him cooling.

“… Then it seems I owe you an apology for my assumptions.” His voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. He drummed his fingers against the counter once, then stilled them. “Perhaps I might make amends by taking you out for dinner?”

Theo blinked, caught off guard. From what she could tell, he was in the middle of making dinner and had wanted nothing to do with her, but now he wanted to go out? “Taking me out to dinner?”

“Yes,” he said quickly, too quickly. “If you’re amenable. I recall that you recently mentioned a new restaurant to try...”

“I appreciate the offer, and I’d be down to go,” She couldn’t help a small laugh. “I just wasn’t sure how that worked when you were already cooking something…”

“Ah, yes,” His mouth twitched, though the usual sharpness of his wit softened at the edges. “I see where the confusion might arise. Though I must confess, despite my title of Prince I do not think I could secure a reservation on such short notice.”

“Can’t win ‘em all, I guess.” Her eyes flicked toward the stove, where the pan still steamed gently. She pushed off the counter and wandered closer, leaning just enough to peek at what he was stirring. “So… what are you making, anyway?”

Loki followed her gaze, then gave a careless little shrug that didn’t match the precision of the spoon as it stirred again under his control. His eyes lingered on her for a fraction longer than necessary. “An experiment.”

“Dangerous words coming from you.” Theo arched a brow, shoulder brushing briefly against his arm before she retreated back against the counter. She noticed the way his hand flexed slightly at the brief contact. “Should I be worried you’re brewing potions in your kitchen now?”

“If I were, you’d be the first to know.” He plucked the spoon from the air, dipping it once before holding it out to her, steam curling upward. His fingers hovered just a beat longer than needed around the handle, almost as if measuring her reaction. “Taste, and tell me if I’ve succeeded.”

Theo hesitated; not because she doubted him, but because of the way he held it, steady and expectant, eyes fixed on her as though her opinion mattered more than he would admit. In that moment, the kitchen seemed quieter, the faint hiss of the stove filling the space between them. She leaned forward, lips brushing the edge of the spoon.

Warm, savory, richer than she’d expected. She licked a trace from her lip, surprise turning into a smile. 

“That’s… actually really good.”

“Actually?” His tone was dry, tinged with a playful offense, but his eyes softened at her approval. His gaze flicked down for a heartbeat to her hands resting lightly on the counter before returning to her face.

“Yeah, turns out you aren’t half bad in a kitchen,” She smirked as she straightened, hip finding its place against the counter again. “Do you only break the culinary skills out when no one’s watching, or have you been hiding this talent from me on purpose?”

He stilled for half a second, the pan forgotten. It wasn’t much, but she noticed it — the tiny falter before he moved again, the subtle tension in his shoulders. The corner of his mouth twitched, and instead of replying he busied himself with the pan, turning his shoulder to her as though suddenly very interested in the food.

Theo tilted her head, catching the small tell, and let her amusement curl at the edges of her voice. “Actually, now that I think about it… we go out to eat all the time.” She gestured toward the pan with a teasing curve of her mouth. “Maybe the apology should be to cook me dinner sometime, instead.”

For once, he seemed almost caught. His grip on the spoon tightened, knuckles paling before he forced his hand to relax. A beat passed, quiet and suspended, before he said without looking at her, “You believe my cooking could serve as adequate penance?”

The pause stretched, longer than it should have, filled with the soft simmer of the pan and the low hum of the refrigerator. Theo shifted against the counter, folding her arms, pressing one shoulder slightly forward as if to anchor herself against the subtle tension in the room. She noticed his eyes flick to her shoulder, then quickly back to the pan, as though he didn’t want her to see he’d noticed.

“I think it’d be more than adequate,” she said finally, letting the tease carry but softer now, warmer. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the faintest flush at the tips of his ears — the only betrayal of his calm.

Something in his expression shifted when he finally glanced back at her — a faint, unguarded glimmer of satisfaction, quickly masked beneath his usual composure. His shoulders eased slightly, but she noticed the micro-movement of his fingers curling once around the spoon, a subtle echo of his attention on her.

He didn’t look flustered, but the corner of his mouth quirked upward, and the faintest trace of a smile softened the lines around his eyes. Even his posture, still upright and controlled, had a subtle tilt toward her. “I daresay, then, I shall have to rise to the occasion.”

She laughed softly, stepping back toward the counter, brushing lightly past him in the motion. The contact was fleeting, but it lingered in the small warmth of the kitchen. She noticed his chest shift slightly, the faintest exhale that hadn’t been there before. “I’ll hold you to that.”

A beat passed, easy now, almost companionable. His eyes flicked back to hers, steady and intent.

“Have you eaten?” His voice lowered, the timbre less of a question and more like an invitation. “I’m quite certain there’s plenty here for two.”

“Well…” Her smile curled, clever and bright, but softer at the edges now. She tipped her chin toward him, eyes catching the gleam of his. “Since you went to all the trouble of poisoning me already, it’d be rude not to see how the rest of it turns out.”

Theo moved first, slipping past him to help set the table. The soft clink of ceramic filled the air as she retrieved plates from the cabinet, passing them to Loki so he could plate the food. Their movements fell into an easy rhythm, unspoken but seamless — her setting out silverware as he carried the plates to the table, the small domesticity of it almost startling in its simplicity.

“Wine?” she asked, plucking a pair of glasses from the cabinet and holding them up for Loki’s approval.

“Yes,” Loki replied, turning back to Theo with a bottle dangling between his fingers. “A small indulgence I picked up off-world. I thought it might suit the occasion.”

She gave him a sidelong look as she took the bottle from him, trying not to blush when their fingers brushed. “You mean your kitchen experiment?”

His mouth twitched, the faintest shadow of a smirk. “Precisely.”

Theo handed him a glass, keeping her own raised. “Then—” her grin widened, playful and teasing, “—to not dying from your experiment.”

He lifted his in answer, crystalline light catching the dark liquid. “To your remarkable bravery in tasting it.”

She clinked his glass with a little laugh. “To discovering your cooking skills after all this time.”

He took the volley smoothly, the curve of his mouth deepening as he met her gaze over the rim. “To your persistence in uncovering them.”

Theo’s smile curled, clever and bright, but her eyes betrayed the flicker of warmth she couldn’t quite hide. She tipped her glass toward his once more, letting the sparkle of the moment carry them forward.

The glasses chimed again, laughter chasing away the hush, and together they settled in to share their private meal.

If I've been unapproachable Or I seem too emotional Life has been a rollercoaster So it goes, I've been Avoiding confrontational Bullshit conversations, so If I forgot to say hello Please don't take it personal

I just need you to say like, "Okay” Okay?

---

Author’s note: HI SORRY I’M LATE. I know last time I said a short break might come from my grandma passing, but that ended up not being the reason for my delay (thankfully!!)… the actual reason was that I didn’t quite like how this chapter was flowing/reading and needed a bit of extra time to get the characters feeling more true to themselves, and unfortunately that also fell during the two busiest workweeks of the year (for me) because of back to school. 

I’m not a teacher but I work in education, and a big part of my role involves helping new students prepare for the year and training peer mentors for different programs; trying to keep it semi-vague as to not share identifying info lol). This was my fourth “back to school” in my current role and it was without a doubt the smoothest, best one yet! I’m so happy with how it went and I got a lot of positive feedback from folks all over the school, from students to school leadership. 

Still, it was a hectic couple of weeks—I was literally writing on my phone between student leader training sessions because that was when I had time to work on it and I didn’t want to lose ideas when they came up 🤣

Grandma’s still here—she definitely has slowed down, but I was able to travel to see her (and my family) last weekend and she knew we were there, which was nice. 

It’s still a bit busier than usual for me as school activities start ramping up with the start of the academic year, so out of an abundance of caution I’m going to say the next update can be expected by Sunday, September 14th Thursday, September 25. If I think it’s ready sooner then I’ll post early, but just looking at what I have going on at the moment I think it’s most likely going to be worth taking the extra time so I don’t feel rushed (and compromise on quality!). 

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

“... oh my god.”

that was all you could mutter under your breath the moment you saw the rest of your co-workers controlled by that thing the alien held in his palm. you didn’t show up to work yesterday since you were just taking the final steps in finishing that project of yours.

what was the project? the hypercryogenic station.

and now, after a long day of ignoring your texts and calls, you ended up going to work, which happened to be a terrible idea. better yet, a horrible mistake. “... excuse me?” you took small steps, nearing the towering male as he just stood still, not facing you. all of your friends were doing his commands without any questions and you knew that clint barton would never do any of this!

but he did anyway. and you had to know why.

“what did you do with them?” you asked, demanding for answers as you heard him let out an almost inaudible chuckle only to be followed by a deep, low snicker. the alien slowly turned around and looked you straight in the eye, sweat pouring down his face with a sharp glare while his teeth ground against each other.

he was just terrifying, how else could you leave the facility without getting killed?

“oh, is that supposed to matter?” the alien mocked, later glancing at the staff he held before looking back at you, his smirk disappearing little by little. “... you must be horrified, aren’t you?”

of course you were, who wouldn’t be horrified when they see something like this? 

but before he could even get closer to you, he suddenly stumbled. that wasn’t something you expected since you assumed that he was a powerful being out of this world after seeing that wardrobe choice but he showed… weakness? it’s hard not to take note of it for future purposes.

you then cleared your throat and asked, “are you okay?”

but he said nothing in return, tense and trembling with every step. he had a maniacal look on his face as if he couldn’t control his actions; he seemed like he was enduring something that was hurting him inside.

and that got you thinking what else was happening with the man in front of you. “so, that’s a no?” 

“you’re the expert,” he said, “you’re the one blessed with knowledge over what it is that’s happening to me now.”

you frowned. you definitely had no idea what was going on with him and you were planning on leaving him to himself when he surprisingly grabbed your wrist. “heal me,” he pleaded, breathing in and out rapidly as you felt the burning heat that surrounded his palm, which led to that moment of realization.

“i… i don’t know how–,” you were then cut-off by him tilting his head to the project: the hypercryogenic station. if you ever had a scanner around you, his heat signature would be all over the place because of how high his temperature was. “but the station hasn’t even been tested yet and it could be dangerous for you and for all of us!”

the alien shook his head frantically, not letting any excuses get into his way. “if you don’t help me right now…” his breath hitched as the tip of the scepter was pointed at your chest, right at your heart. “you won’t be living for long.”

and that made you take so many steps, assisting him in the station as you closed the door. “you can’t be in there for more than a minute, it’s highly dangerous and i’m telling you, we haven’t done any tests yet–”

“just begin with the process.” his voice had gotten lower, hoarser with every moment that passed as you felt your heart race quicker. you knew that if you made a mistake, somebody like barton would kill you; there was no way out.

so the gears started running and you watched how the glass windows of the station had fogged up. your life’s work was being used by an unknown entity who took over the minds of your co-workers. your friends.

you couldn’t help but cry silently, biting your nails while you stood a meter away from the finished project. how could a five-year plan get wasted? to this unreadable, tyrannic humanoid? you can’t even breathe well.

and once the process was done, the station’s doors slid apart, creating a path for the man inside. when he stepped out of it, he didn’t even seem affected by it. all normal and human-like as if he had only bathed himself in some snow and not in an actual blizzard.

but colder than his skin was his gaze toward you, the scepter staring back at you as well, watching the way you took a few steps away from him.

“who are you?” you asked, your eyes glued to the scepter rather than his face, which caused him to get agitated.

in return, the tip of the scepter’s blade touched your chin, tilting your head up so that you could look at him. “i am loki of asgard,” he introduced with a deranged grin as you heard the way his breath hitched, overwhelmed and proud with how he spoke to you. 

that was enough to make you take another step back but his hand grabbed your arm like a lock, fastened so tightly that it made everything worse for you. “what did you do with them?” you tilted your head to the blue-eyed agents now circling the entire room, which made loki laugh.

he truly was out of his mind. 

“i simply used them for a greater purpose,” he said back, letting out another chuckle as the scepter gleamed in response. it was in his complete control… they were all under his control.

how in the world can you run from this?

“let them go.” “oh, we’re getting heroic now, aren’t we?”

he mocked you shamelessly as if it wasn’t your invention that saved him from his visible misery – whatever it was that hurt him earlier.

“... well, i did save you.” you just had to let a bit of sass come out because it was true. however, loki didn’t seem to be fond of that and had read that as entitlement rather than a reminder of who did save him.

nonetheless, he lowered his weapon and laughed once more. “your little saving was merely necessary, mortal. i could’ve used that machine myself.” of course, he disregarded that tiny, little favour you did for him and decided that it’d be best to not even give out a little thank you.

but then, again, what do you expect from an aspiring alien tyrant?

“but you couldn’t because i programmed it for my access only,” you continued the conversation, stating the truth right in front of him. that was your life’s work… you still couldn't believe that it was firstly used by some tall man with a scepter and emerald drapes. “besides, that thing you used wouldn't be here if it weren't for me.”

there was long silence once again… perhaps, even longer than moments of silence you had earlier when your eyes scanned over the rest of the place.

almost the entirety of the facility was led by loki. horrifyingly brainwashed by that scepter.

“fair enough,” he admitted, “but you wouldn’t be breathing if i hadn’t given you the chance.”

“... do you want me to thank you? for this?” “giving thanks means nothing. i need something much more than that.”

you crossed your arms, gulping as you still tried to make yourself seem as if you had the upper hand. an imaginary upper hand, perhaps? although you had put on that mask, loki knew you were afraid of what he could do to you. 

if this is only a preview of the damage he’s capable of causing, just how could you survive while being opposed to him?

“i could…” he trailed off, smirking to himself as he circled the station, his palm touching its painted and carved surface while the scepter glowed in his other hand. “hm… i could do the same to you. put your talent to use like the others.”

and you readied yourself, closing your eyes as your once crossed arms dropped to your sides, hopeless and left without a sign of help. “but you have not attacked me once,” he said with a tone of interest, diverting his attention from the opportunity of just controlling you like a mindless servant and rather feeling positive about a different, riskier path. “and you’ve saved me. willingly. no control needed.”

he walked towards you, breathing heavily and letting out a low chuckle. “do you know what gift you have, dr. l/n?” he questioned, expecting you to know the answer as he tilted your head upwards again with the end of the scepter. one wrong push and you could bleed to death; he was being careful with you still.

after all, you were a great addition to his plans.

“humanity, l/n.” he proudly stated, now lowering his weapon as your heart raced. never did you fear death until now, especially when your life would fade to grey without the knowledge of what’ll happen next. to the world and the people around you. “you’ve got so much humanity in you that your best choice was to save a dying god. it’s foolish, l/n. how could you be so brilliant but foolish?–”

“are you done?” you had enough of it, still staring at one corner as you saw how your friend’s eyes still gleamed in blue, manipulated by the god standing right in front of you while the remaining lights of the facility shone over his prepped quiver, ready to attack whenever, however.

and of course, the god of mischief was indeed offended by that. “... you’re so brave, it’s idiotic.” he laughed, shaking his head as if you both had been joking with one another and you felt the heat rush up your head; you didn’t want this. you just wanted your friends to be set free – your world to be set free from this being. 

“what do you desire in return?” “for you to stop whatever you’re planning here, my lord.”

even though loki knew you were being sarcastic, he just admired the way it rolled off your tongue. “you do know that does not equate to what you’ve done for me and you might want to do something more for me if you’d want that to happen,” he said, denying your request with a snicker. “but of course, i still appreciated your service earlier so how about i offer you something else?”

he’s cheating, you thought.

“in exchange of your little saving, it’ll be guaranteed that not one of us would lay a finger on you…” he paused, hiding the scepter behind his back as you tilted your head to the side. were you even hearing this correctly? that was too low. “and you would be shielded from any harm as well.”

but can you do anything about it? no. “is that good enough for you, my little savior?”

you had to think about it for longer than a second. why only a second, you may ask? well, does it look like you still have enough time to decide perfectly? the world is at stake; you had to give an answer now or worse destruction could happen.

“fine,” you uttered, firmly extending your hand towards him as he only stared back at your empty, shaking palm. “i’ll do whatever it takes to free this world from you.”

You scanned the body of the email one final time, shrugged an involuntary shoulder, and pressed send. A sigh left your lips as you leaned back in your grey office chair, swiveling round to have a gander at the view. The streets of London were monotone, shades of grey the only palate. Raindrops ran down the windows as your mind raced.

Two months had passed since you started as a Group Administrator for Stark Industries. The London office was largely unknown, existing for the sole purpose of housing the extensive Finance department and the ever-expanding Legal group. Your boss tasked you with processing expense claims for middle management, which bored you to tears, until you were handed files you never imagined you would see – the transactions for a group called Group A. Or as you now internally dubbed them, The A Team.

Your eyes widened, eyebrows raised silently as you leafed through the files, the sound of your bosses footsteps fading as she walked away on the industrial flooring. You read the names of the files.

N.Romanoff

S.Rogers

B.Banner

T.Odinson

L.Laufeyson

The fucking Avengers??? This shite job is about to get a whole lot juicier.

You made a game of it. You built a picture of who each person was beneath the rubber superhero suit. A real person. One who liked chicken Caesar salad. One who loved a hot chocolate with his breakfast. Another who enjoyed a Swedish massage after a particular strenuous mission.

“The costs are personally funded by Tony Stark.” Your manager had explained. “So usual policy doesn’t apply. They’re risking their lives, so the odd bottle of champagne can go through. There are some exceptions, though. I’ll email them.”

The most fascinating expenses by far were by one Loki Laufeyson. He pushed the boundaries frequently, often using his Stark Industries card for a taxi one evening and a return journey the following morning, matching a hotel receipt for a King room booked for two guests – second name Ms. N.E. Body. Plush hotels, bespoke suits, hair salons and manicurists were the norm. You had stopped raising an eyebrow.

But the expense item today was so blatant you had to take action. Missing it would place your role at risk or at least under the fierce scrutiny of your boss.

You read it again.

Intimate Services.

Who does this guy think he is? Paying for hookers on Tony Stark’s dollar. Pompous knob-end.

You sighed again, returning your gaze and your thoughts to your desk, opening a brown manila folder to a neatly written list and itemized receipts organized in date order and stapled to the top left-hand corner. You didn’t even need to look at the name. It belonged to Captain Rogers. You clicked his tab on your spreadsheet and began typing. You saw movement out of the corner of your eye and turned in its direction.

Your pupils dilated at the sight of your colleague pointing to your desk, the direction of his finger followed by the eyes of a tall, devastatingly handsome man with black hair who was looking straight at you, brow furrowed and head cocked.

You gawked at him in disbelief as he walked towards your desk, the sequence happening in both slow motion and at lightning speed.

“You are the clerk who sent me the electronic letter, yes?” He held up his iPhone, pointing to it, your email staring back at you.

“Y-y-yeah, I, ummm… yeah I-I did, erm…”

Come on brain, work. FUCK.

You shook your head and turned away from him and back to the safety of your screen. Despite his casual attire of black jeans and navy blue hoodie, he oozed power and gravitas. He could break your neck and maintain a steady heartrate and stoic expression, you were certain of it.

He positioned his arms behind his back and tilted his chin upwards. “Tell me the nature of your enquiry, clerk.”

Did he just call me a fucking clerk? Right that’s it. It’s ON.

“It’s YN.” Your tone was flat.

“Well YN, it appears I’ve been somewhat…” He licked at his lips and smiled to himself in mirth, black eyelashes fluttering downwards. “Naughty.”

You felt your stomach flip over.

Fuck.

Is he hot or am I just ovulating?

No. No, he’s an arsehole. An entitled prick who thinks he’s above everyone else.

“Regardless. I am scheduled to attend one of those ghastly long conference meetings you all seem to love so much. So whatever it is, I don’t have all day.” He crossed his arms in front of him. You were sure he pouted.

Whatever it is? Didn’t you read my email? I spent twenty minutes laboring over it.

I even checked the email address five times. [email protected].

What a pretentious surname, anyways. Fucks sake.

“Whatever the nature of your enquiry, let us resolve it.” You didn’t move, or respond. He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Today, preferably.”

Rude.

“Well, look – I know it’s kind of beneath you,” you rolled your eyes. “But there’s an expense item that’s against policy.”

“Policy?” He scoffed. “This is absurd.”

“Well, you know, I don’t disagree, but it’s my job.”

“These ridiculous bureaucrats insist on ticking every infernal box, do they not.”

“Yep.” You finished the word with a pop, looking back to your screen. You highlighted a row in yellow on your spreadsheet. Movement in your peripheral vision caused you to turn. He stretched his arms overhead, removing his hoodie to reveal a tight white tshirt clinging to his lean torso, the material ridding up to reveal the lower part of his abs.

God.

He squinted at you, whetting his lips unconsciously. You shook your head and looked down at the crumbs lodged in your keyboard.

“Why must they insist on making these places so hot?” He muttered to himself as he neatly folded his discarded garment.

“Is it uncomfortable for you? I mean, you’re from somewhere cold, right? At least that’s what I heard.”

“Asgard.” He spoke flatly. “The climate is much the same.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You didn’t.”

An uncomfortable silence fell. Your hand, resting over your mouse, began to tremble. Loki cocked his head, furrowing his brow slightly. He spoke, his volume lowering.

“Your electronic letter raised issue with an item I had purchased. Yes?”

You nodded. “Yeah and erm… I emailed you because I… I didn’t expect you to be here. In the office, I mean. I thought you lived in New York, with…. with your brother and the team.” In some kind of cult-ish compound, but that’s above my pay grade and below my sense of wonder.

“I’m visiting London to sign an agreement.” He unfolded his arms, placing them in the pockets of his black jeans. “Must be done in person, allegedly. The laws here are nonsensical. Nevertheless – what is the nature of this item? Are you able to show me on your machine?” He pointed to the screen.

“You, erm… you don’t have computers, right? Where you’re from?”

He shook his head.

“On, erm… Asgard. Did I get that right?” You offered a nervous smile.

His lips twitched up at the corners. “You did.”

“It must be strange being here. Is it?”

He glanced down at the floor, cocking his head in thought. “Sometimes.”

“But you fight for us, though. And you’re away from home. You help us, so… I guess the least we can do is pay for some stuff, right.”

He frowned and pulled his head back. He leaned forward, looking you up and down. “You jest, yes?”

You shook your head rapidly. “No Mr. Loki.”

He let out a puff of air at your terminology. Not quite a laugh. But apparently he wasn’t going to throttle you today, so you filed it away in your mind in a folder mentally marked as ‘progress.’

He raised up an arm in the direction of your screen. “Shall we?” He finished his words with a smile that stopped time. You swallowed hard and turned back to the screen.

“Yeah, so… erm… it’s just this one…” You gestured to the transactions from the bank. “There’s no receipt, which is totally okay because you’re with The A Team, but I looked at the transaction and it just says, well… this.”

You highlighted the row in green now, and looked up at him. His expression slackened a little and he leaned down, placing a firm hand on the top of your seat, his face now level with yours as you looked at the computer together.

“Hmmm. Intimate Services. Hardly seems like an appropriate use of Stark’s resources, does it?”

You glanced to the side to see him smirking, looking at you with an expression of pure mirth, his face inches from yours. You smiled back, looking into eyes that were surely hundreds of years old, if not more. Who were you kidding. You knew full-well he was over a thousand. You had Googled him. And now, you ogled him in the flesh.

He stood upright then perched on the edge of your desk, thick thighs spreading across the expanse of wood. You noticed how his jeans and t-shirt felt oddly more intimidating than the black designer suit you had seen in photographs, or even the battle armor from his homeland. He reached down into an opened Ziploc bag of cashews on your desk and grabbed a handful, nestling his stash in one palm as he snacked, one nut at a time.

You frowned in curiosity. “Do you like those?”

“Yes. We have them on Asgard. They’re considered a treat. I understand they are not considered such here.”

“Yeah, they’re more like a healthy snack.”

His eyes roamed your desk ahead of his question. “You do not indulge in those poisonous things in the gaudy little plastics?” He cocked his head in the direction of a box of Quality Street on the side of a spare desk, your colleague desk cracking the lid and fishing out three orange creams.

“I try not to. They’re not good for me. Have you tried chocolate yet?”

“Yes and it gave me a horrific headache, and to be frank a rather delicate tummy.”

You scoffed a laugh, earning a rumbling chuckle from your new guest. He continued to snack on the nuts. “What are we to do about this financial faux pas then, YN?”

He remembered my name. Kind of nice actually. Definitely less dick-ish than I expected.

“I dunno. It’s just… look, what you do on your own time is none of my business. But I’m gonna get into shit with my boss if I don’t query it.”

“Hmm. Well we can’t have that now, can we.” He leaned forward, grinning at you mischievously, strong hands gripping the sides of the desk, looking into your eyes.

Is he trying to hypnotize me?

It’s fucking working.

“Are you hungry?”

“I beg your pardon?” He wore an incredulous expression.

“Well, you’re snacking on things from home. And you said chocolate doesn’t agree with you…. so, I can Google some places for you. We have a Waitrose nearby, it’s a little like Whole Foods, the place you like in New York.”

“How do you – ”

“Oh, sorry – I see your transactions and it seems like you go there a lot. I didn’t mean to be nosy. I just… wanted you to feel welcome, I guess. You’re a guest here, it seems rude not to.”

He nodded wordlessly and remained quiet for a moment. “Well. Though I know how to use the telephone directory on my mobile computer, and search for such locations, it is… rather… generous…. of you to offer.” He paused. “Thank you.” Another silence fell. “You know, I… I seldom eat the food here. It makes me quite unwell. But the market to which you refer, they prepare vegetables with herbs that I recognize. And I am able to consume it without too much trouble.”

“I’m glad. It’s hard when we only eat certain things. Gluten makes me sick, so I get it. And you’ve made a good choice with Whole Foods. I used to go there a lot, when I lived out there.”

“New York?” The bag rustled as he fished out another handful of cashews, smiling at you as he reached into the bag.

“LA.”

“Oh! The western coast, yes?”

“Yeah.” You smiled at him warmly, before sliding from your seat and kneeling down in front of your snack drawer. You pulled out an item and looked up at him. “Would you like a date?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“A date.” You showed him the long plastic box of Medjool dates.

“Oh I see.” He smirked. “A little forward, YN, no?” He looked down at you kneeling in between his legs. You blushed and stood, shaking your head.

“They’re rather good.” He chewed and spoke between mouthfuls of the sweet dried fruit. “I don’t suppose you have any figs?”

“I don’t, but I can go and buy some for you on my lunch break.”

“Thank you, YN.”

“Do you like olives?”

“Very much.”

“Oranges? Apples?”

“I love them.”

“Chicken?”

“Absolutely.”

You started writing the items down in your notebook.

“Bread?”

“Oh… no thank you. No pastries either, please.”

“You got it. What about veggies from the salad bar?”

“Yes please.”

“How about that pre-sliced fruit stuff – melon, mango, kiwi, that sort of thing?”

“Mmmm Norns yes.” His eyes rolled back as he recalled the first time he tried the Midgardian fruits, sweet and delicious, and completely exotic to his palate.

“Blueberries, raspberries… those are pretty good. Easy to eat in a meeting too.”

“Yes I like those.”

“Big bag o’nuts?”

He scoffed incredulously. “Excuse me, YN?”

You didn’t mean to glance at his crotch. But apparently your subconscious mind was a thirsty bitch today. And to be fair, the large bulge in his jeans was almost directly in your sightline. You blushed and began to stutter. This elicited a raucous sound from Loki, his head tilting back and his hearty belly laugh echoing out and over the office cubicles. His chortles subsided and he dabbed the corner of his eye with his middle finger, groaning quietly to himself with glee. You added some wildcards to your handwritten list:

Potato wedges?

Green juice?

Kombucha?

“You write with paper, not on your pocket telephone like the others. You are old fashioned.” He watched you curiously.

“Yeah. I guess so.” You tore the sheet out of your notepad and folded it over. “If there’s anything else you like to eat, just let me know, okay?”

His face softened, lips pulled up at the corner. “I will.”

“So, erm… what we gonna do about this whole situation.” You held up a hand and motioned towards your screen.

Loki shrugged. “I will face the consequences, I suppose. Quick slap on the wrist, in all likelihood. I will ensure they are aware it was my doing, and that you have satisfied their criteria.”

“Thank you, Mr. Loki.”

“It’s simply Loki.”

“Okay.” You paused, standing to place a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be right back, okay?” You returned and handed him a glass. “It’s out of the water cooler, so it’s filtered. No chemicals. It should be okay for you.”

“Thank you.” Another smile. Tentative. Sweet. Bashful, almost.

Hmmm. Maybe he’s not such a bell-end after all.

Maybe.

You spoke as he drank. “You know, it was weird, the whole intimate services thing.” You whispered the phrase. “Because I checked the mission sheets, and it was just after you got back from Asgard with Thor. The same day, actually.” You didn’t notice the colour drain from his face. You continued. “It’s okay though. They’ll probably just trace the transaction back to the vendor.” You looked up to see a pale-faced Loki.

“T-trace it back? You mean, they will know exactly who I purchased from? And what I purchased?”

“Yeah. But like you said, slap on the wrist, right?”

He swallowed. “YN. I…” he glanced furtively over his shoulder, then leaned forward. “I wish to speak with you in private.” His bottom lip trembled. “Please.”

You gave a quick and subtle nod, collecting Loki’s manilla file, plus your pen and notepad. You jerked your head in the direction of a meeting room. You began to walk through the gangway between the clusters of office cubicles, Loki following you. You purposely spoke within earshot of your colleagues. “Yeah it won’t take long. We’ll just get them signed off. Is that alright?”

He responded cordially, continuing the charade. “Of course, Miss. Thank you.”

You reached an empty meeting room, sliding the door sign to “IN USE” and closed the door behind you both. You looked at him expectantly.

“They cannot trace this back. What I mean to say is, they mustn’t. We must not allow it. Because it’s… well. It’s not what you think.”

“Go on.”

He squared his jaw, casting his gaze to the floor as he reached into his back jeans pocket. He typed on his phone, seeming to find what he was looking for. He lifted his phone up, almost turning it towards you, then stopped. He allowed his hand to hang down beside his hip, phone clutched tightly. “For context, I… I had spent two weeks on Asgard. And I… my family are… well, they’re rather difficult. I wasn’t at my best.”

“I know that feeling.” You smiled in understanding.

He looked down at his phone, cocking his head, hesitating. He placed his phone down on the conference room table and walked away, hands in his back pockets, pacing towards the door and back. You took a couple steps forward and peered over a high-backed black leather chair, reaching over and picking up the phone. You stared at the website.

Of all the perverse, strange things it could have been, the odd services this well-resourced man required... you didn’t think it was this.

This was the very last thing you would have imagined.

“It’s… not a service we have on Asgard. I… well, it was something I need- well. I chose to purchase it.”

The words glared back at you.

Professional Cuddlers. Private. Discreet. Compassionate.

“Loki…”

“Please. Don’t.”

You walked up to him, whispering to the back of his white t-shirt. “Don’t what?”

“Pity me.”

“I’m not.”

“I…” He turned. “I did not have an enjoyable visit to my homeland. When I searched for private compassionate escorts… I found this.”

“And you don’t want anyone to know.”

“Precisely.”

“Okay. I won’t tell anyone.”

He swallowed, looking at the floor. “What will you do now? To prevent them from investigating.”

“There are some forms I’ll get you to sign. Basically you admit to wrong-doing, you say what it was… and they’ll let it go. They won’t need to do an internal investigation, because you’ve already confessed.”

“Right. And we say it was a prostitute. Yes?” Wide, green eyes burned their way into your soul.

“Mmm hmmm.”

“You don’t sound certain.”

“I’m just… curious.”

“How so?”

“Why are you so keen to cover it up? I mean… I guess I just want to understand why you’d rather say you paid for a hooker.”

He tilted his chin up, Prince mode activated. “I care not who harbors knowledge of my indulgence in the pleasures of the flesh. I do concern myself with others knowing of…” his voice caught in his throat. “…my need to be held.”

You smiled softly, words no longer mattering. “That makes sense.”

His tone became suddenly buoyant, his actions animated as he stepped forward and swiped his phone from the conference table. “But I do need to uncover why you saw it on the Stark listings. I was certain I used the correct plastic pass. Would you – would you show me?” He gestured to the seats and you sat down at the table with him. He presented his wallet to you, handing it over.

“Oh! I mean, you wouldn’t just give someone your wallet, usually.”

“But you’re not simply someone. You work for Stark.”

You smirked. “That doesn’t mean I’m trustworthy.”

“Well. Quite.” He slid his credit cards out of his wallet. “They look identical, do they not?”

Two black cards. Same bank. Both marked L. Laufeyson. “To be fair they are pretty similar.”

He leaned in, voice hushed. “How does it work, exactly?”

“What, credit cards? Or the banking system?”

“Both.” He paused. “Please.”

“Erm… hang on, has nobody explained this to you? They should have done. Especially because you’re a visitor.”

“There was an incredibly dull mortal who – ”

You pointed, grinning. “Okay first of all, don’t call us mortals.”

“I accept your terms, YN.” He smirked. “Anyway, this man, he yabbered on for hours about the terms of my time on Midgard and the arrangements with your government. To be frank, I switched off.”

“So they did tell you, but you didn’t listen.” Your lips curled up into a genuine smile. 

This guy. This fucking guy.

“Yes. Guilty.” He raised up a palm earnestly whilst smirking. You reached for his hand and placed it down.

“Okay. So I actually asked my manager about this, because I’m nosy.”

He frowned. “You assured me you were not prying into my affairs when you worked on my files.”

“I lied. So. My manager said, you and Thor have a deal with our governments as a condition of your time here on earth. It’s through Stark Industries. They pay your salary. The idea is, if we give you a salary you’ll be a functioning member of society because you’ll have the means to get an apartment and such, and not like, I dunno, blow things up and kill some people to get your own way.”

Loki rolled his eyes.

“So basically Tony gave you two cards. One is a company credit card. This one.” You pointed to it. “The other is a personal debit card. This one here. Your salary is paid into your bank account, and you can spend what you earn using this card. Easiest way to remember it is this – the card with the number ending in 1177 is your own personal money.”

“I see. So I have resources that are available to me, using this pass. A debit card, you say?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah. And my salary, what is that exactly?”

You lingered for a moment, unsure if he was serious. Apparently he was. Perhaps they don’t have that where he’s from. “Okay, so… because you work for The Avengers and you do missions and stuff – plus all that other publicity bullshit they force you to do, shaking hands, kissing babies, all of that – they pay you a set amount of money per year. And it’s paid into your bank account regularly. In America, I think it’s every two weeks.”

“They give me money every two weeks?”

“Yep.”

“How much?”

“I shouldn’t know this, it’s supposed to be private, but I have a friend in HR. You’re on $250k a year.”

He squinted. “Is that good?”

“Yeah. Very good.”

“Who is the richest man on Midgard?”

“Erm… I dunno, probably the guy who owns Amazon.”

“He owns the rainforest?”

“No… well, maybe. Why’d you ask?”

“I suppose I want to know how I fit into the grand scheme of things here.”

“Well, you’re doing good. And it’s great, right? They give you money for being here.”

“It’s largely disappointing.”

“How come?”

“You mean to say I have a finite amount of resources?”

“As opposed to what… infinite amounts?”

“Well… yes.”

“You’re not serious.”

“On Asgard, I have access to the wealth of the entire realm.”

“Ohhhhhh. Shit. You’re from the royal family there. Right?”

He straightened up proudly. “Yes. Crown Prince of Asgard.”

You nodded respectfully. “Your Highness…”

He nodded back, impossibly regal. “Thank you, Miss.”

You smiled at each other with mirth.

“But… it doesn’t quite work like that here. You know that, right? You can’t just have… anything you want.”

“Why not?”

“Well. You…”

“I jest. I am as you say, pulling a leg.” He toyed with the edge of his debit card. He picked it up. “So when I wish to purchase an item, what do I do?” He grinned playfully.

He’s been here a year and he’s bought stuff, he knows full well.

You picked up his hand – which had been resting on his thigh – and held it upright, palm facing you. “So you just hold it up to the card machine… your hand’s the card machine in this scenario, and you just go….” You hovered the card over his palm. “BOOP!”

“Ehehehehe… what do I do??”

You tapped the card against his skin. “BOOP!”

He moved his hand to rest over his belly, fingers spread, laughing again. His eyes creased at the corners, crinkled in glee, as the whitest, brightest, most wonderful smile shone in front of you.

God he’s gorgeous.

Shit.

OH SHIT.

Not ideal.

Not fucking ideal at all.

“Mr. Laufeyson?” A cautious female voice called from behind the door, knocking lightly. “The legal team have gathered. We are ready when you are, Sir.”

Loki rolled his eyes at the voice. “I’ll be right there!” He called out, smiling at you.

You stood, feeling an odd sensation in your belly at the thought of returning to your desk and away from the banter with your new friend.

“Come with me please, YN.”

“I’m sorry?”

“To this infernal meeting. I…” He looked to the side, smirking. “I require assistance, you see. Someone to make a note of words and phrases that I do not understand, because I am not from here.”

“Loki.” You crossed your arms and tilted your head down. “We both know that’s bullshit.”

“Perhaps. But it will be marginally less idiotic with you there.”

“That’s a back-handed compliment if ever I heard one, sir.”

“Fine.” He huffed and crossed his arms. He tilted his chin downwards and spoke softly. “Please?”

You sighed.

“Or shall I beg?”

“Okay fine.”

He dropped to one knee and looked up at you, smirking, arms outstretched.

“NO! I meant, fine I’ll go with you! Not yes please beg.”

He crinkled his nose as he stood. “Good. You shall join me, then”

“And after that, I’ll go buy that food for you. On your card, just so you’re aware. Given you’re minted.”

He scoffed, still smiling, and pushed his chair back under the table before taking leisurely strides towards the door. You had an urge. You decided to take the risk. You rushed up to him from behind, stopping right behind him and softly, unhurriedly, snaking your arms around his waist. You rested your head on his back, breathing in his scent. His cologne smelled rich and expensive, no doubt paid for by Tony Stark’s generous credit cards. This man certainly had good taste. You nuzzled your head into him, much like a cat. Until he turned around.

“What are you doing?”

You stood up straight. Eyes wide. “Erm… sorry.”

He grinned. “Well, I didn’t say stop.” His large arms wrapped around you and pressed your face into his chest. You found yourself nuzzling again, breathing him in. You felt a hand rest on the back of your head with trepidation, before stroking your hair lightly. “So soft…” He didn’t realise he said it out loud. Reluctantly, he pulled away, looking down at you softly. “The meeting, YN.”

You nodded reluctantly and walked with him towards the door.

“Loki?”

“Hmmm?”

“Your invoice is in the post, by the way.”

He frowned.

“For the hug.” You couldn’t have stopped your grin if you tried.

Loki’s eyes almost rolled out of his head. He couldn’t stop smiling either.

***

Epilogue

A meeting invite flashed up in the bottom right of your screen the following morning. You opened it. “New Opportunity.” The invitees…. You, the HR Director, and a certain Loki Laufeyson.

Your office chat pinged. It was your friend from HR, who had scheduled the meeting on behalf of her director.

Had to keep it professional in the invite.

But…..

He wants you to be his personal assistant!!

Literally cannot believe what he wants to pay you.

4x the normal salary of a PA.

Says he doesn’t care – that’s what he’s paying you. He’s insistent.

Says he wants only you.

Anyway. Congrats!!!!

You replied to your friend and picked up Steve Rogers’ file from your desk. Nothing like a bit of Captain Serious to get your day off to a righteous start.

A new chat flashed up on your screen.

I do hope this won’t mean an end to those hugs.

(did I get it right?)

L x

You grinned as you remembered your tutorial yesterday afternoon, showing him how to use instant messenger via his phone. You typed back:

There are laws against that kind of workplace behaviour, you know. Though I have no objections.

Besides, you’re my boss now. Gotta do what you say.

( and yes, you got it right  )

Three dots appeared. Another message:

No, pet. You’re on The A Team now. We are above the law, or so I’ve heard.

You could almost see his smug grin as he pressed send on his final set of self-assured words.

And I was always in charge. As you well know.

You placed both hands around your white ceramic mug, looking out into London’s winter sunshine, your cheeks aching from unrelenting grinning.

You sipped your tea.

Always in charge?

Your heart aches as you look at him, the father of your children, the man you once loved with all your heart. But now, after what he's done, you're not so sure anymore.

“You know what brings me here,” you say, your voice trembling with emotion. 

“Our daughter has been asking for you for months, our son doesn’t even know he has a father.” You spat; your anger that you had hidden in front of your children rising to the surface. 

“And when I finally get some sort of idea of where you have been for the past five months, it’s from your brother. He randomly shows up at my front door, demanding that the children and I make haste and come to Midgard immediately.

“And me being the naïve wife I was; I assume that some sort of harm has befallen upon you, drop everything and make my way here. Only to be greeted with the fact that my husband has tried to take over an entire realm!” 

The room falls into silence for a few moments; you too angry at Loki to even fathom speaking to him, and Loki--hopefully--thinking about the repercussions his actions have caused. 

Loki looks down at his feet, a pained expression crossing his features. “I- I can’t fathom the pain that I have put both you and our children though,” he says softly. “And I surely know that I don’t deserve their forgiveness or your love.” 

Your anger flares up again at his words. “No, Loki, you don't,” you say, your voice rising. “How could you do this to us? To our family?”

Loki looks up at you, his eyes full of remorse. “I was lost, my love,” he says, desperation in his voice. “I didn't know who I was or what I wanted. But I know now. And I swear to you, I will do everything in my power to make it right.”

Tears begin to well up in your eyes, “Didn’t know what you wanted? Were we not enough for the god of mischief? Were we not what you wanted?” 

His eyes widened, “Norns, no, my love. You and the children were the only thing that kept me going. I needed to create a better life for the three of you. A life where you wouldn’t be considered the wife of a monster--one where you would be the wife of a king.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, “But that’s not what I wanted. Not what we wanted. I just wanted my husband; the children just wanted their father.” 

“I realise that now, my love; and I want to make it right. Please--and I know I don’t deserve this--but please let me see the children?”

You hesitate for a moment, your heart fighting a valiant battle with your head. But then you remember your children, and they way that Freya had been begging for her father, and how Magnus always seemed to calm down when you told him tales of Loki during his youth. 

You know that you can’t deprive them of this opportunity. 

“I'll let them see you,” you say, your voice softening. “But you have a lot of work to do if you want to earn back our- my trust, Loki.”

Loki nods, a determined look in his eyes. “I understand,” he says. “I will do whatever it takes to earn it back.”

As you turn to leave, you hear Loki's voice calling out to you. “I love you,” he says, his voice filled with raw emotion.

Your heart aches at his words, but you know it will take more than words to heal the wounds he's inflicted. For now, you focus on your children, and the difficult road ahead of you all as a family.

A/N So, I decided that it needed to be more than 2 parts... part 3 will be up soon :)