Your limbs felt heavy and your head was pounding.

A few steps more, down the stairs and suddenly you felt the need to stop and put your hand on the wall to regain balance. Your feet, bare on the fresh wooden pavement, anchored you. After taking a deep breath you kept moving; the back porch, your final destination.

You honestly didn't know what possessed you to just get out of bed and look for another place to sleep. You simply couldn't sleep in your room, under the covers. You had this feeling like something was missing. Something wasn't right.

And this wasn't the first time that had happened.

You sighed, slightly shaking your head and thinking that there had to be a problem with you: how could someone not be able to sleep in a perfectly normal room? And one you've stayed in before, even.

Well, it could be the fact that the bed itself wasn't really the most comfortable one but, after a grueling mission, you should have just been happy to have it. And you were. You spent days following leads and calling Tony to give information back, then you had to act and fight for your life and for what you deemed right. You did what you had to do and you were tired. So why couldn't you sleep?

Without realising it, you finally found yourself in front of the sliding door for the porch. You blinked at the soft glow of light coming from the outside and noticed that the door was a bit ajar, just what needed to push fingers between it and the wall and open it.

Taking another deep breath, you pushed it and suddenly your vision was enraptured by the sparse trees, the glittering water of the lake and the stars blinking in the dark sky. Universe displayed in front of you, far far away. It was majestic.

Your feet once again kept you anchored to the humid wood of the porch. A soft breeze caressed your skin, filling your lungs with a renewed breath of life. You were being reminded that you were alive.

It took a while but you finally realised that the soft light on the porch wasn't only the one of the moon. You blinked, awakening from your stupor and turned your head. There, a meter from you on your left, sat Loki - your partner for this mission and for many others. Every time you stopped at this particular cabin he came out there, at evening or night and simply read.

Shifting your gaze on his form, you could see he actually had a book in his hands as a soft ball of light fluctuated near him; two green eyes, though, were inquisitively looking at you. He slightly tilted his head, silently demanding an explanation for your presence.

An explanation he didn't really need because he already knew why you were there.

You noticed his movement but just shrugged. “Don't really know why I'm here. Can't sleep.” Your voice had an underline of roughness, like you hadn't used it in a long time.

Loki smiled slightly. You gave him always the same reason. He knew it was probably because the real one made you uncomfortable. You were a warrior, after all; you were respected, loved and prideful and just plain admitting certain things wasn't easy. He didn't blame you, he offered what you needed all the times and hoped that one day you'll tell him everything.

It would be good to hear it from your lips.

Refocusing his gaze on the book, Loki opened his arms, silently inviting you in his warmth. It didn't even take you a second to move towards the trickster and when you were close enough, you noticed he was barefoot too. You smiled and nudged his foot with yours, making him smile too; then, you collapsed on his lap.

It was only in that moment that the lack of solid floor under your feet didn't bother you anymore.

Loki closed his arms around your frame, caging you to his chest. He could tell you were even more exhausted than the other times this had happened - mentally or just physically he wasn't sure - but he didn't try his luck by asking why.

You moved around a little, trying to get comfortable and as soon as you were in your desired position, you closed your eyes and sighed contentedly. Your face was hidden in the crook of Loki’s neck; one of your arms was wrapped loosely around his waist while the other rested on his chest. Loki tightened his hold on you when he felt your muscles going slack on him.

Loki’s skin was always a little colder than yours but you didn't really care. It was even pleasant. Finally, you sighed happily and your warm breath made Loki shiver when it hit his neck.

Sighing, the god of mischief peeked down at the body in his arms before resuming his reading. He wanted to ask if you needed him to do something to help but he wasn't sure about it. He just kept glancing down at you, hoping not to get caught.

“Just keep reading, Loki”

Your soft mumble startled him. It was a little unsettling how you always knew what he was thinking without him even opening his mouth. Maybe you knew him as well as he knew you, he reasoned. He took a deep breath and started reading out loud his book. His voice was so low and smooth that it didn't take long for you to finally fall in a deep slumber.

Bucky’s eyes settled into a glare, assessing his surroundings with expertise. The worn door has sigils and signs written with different colored chalk in a language he can’t recognize, but he goes to knock on it either way. Before his hand can touch the wood, the door swings open with a gentle whoosh. Hiding his surprise with a frown of his lips, he walks into the area with trepidation, senses on high alert. The cabin looks lived in, glass jars stand proudly near the windows, more sigils drawn on the sills. A counter is near the back of the cabin, a small cash register makes it home, with a tip jar and bell next to it. The walls are nearly filled to the brim with jars with different labels, some saying ‘protection’ or ‘luck’. Dried herbs are strewn on the rafters of the ceiling, filling the room with almost too many aromas as Bucky holds back a sneeze. Two signs near the cash register say ‘don’t see me? ring the bell!’ and ‘please don’t steal’, both seemingly hand-drawn with uneven smiley faces. Bucky walks closer to the counter with bated breath, his shoulders un-tensing without his permission as he rings the small bell. 

The twinkling of the bell seems to make the cabin come alive as Bucky hears a muffled voice come from below him. “I’ll be right up!” Bucky doesn’t bother hiding his surprise when he hears the voice. Hearing some crashes and stomps his shoulders tense up again, but he nearly jumps in surprise when he realizes his back and head don’t hurt anymore. 

There is a flurry of movement from behind the counter, a small creek being heard from what seems to be an opening in the floor. Bucky takes a step back as a woman stands in front of him behind the register, a bright smile on her face. Bucky goes to speak before he’s interrupted by the woman. “Welcome to Grove Of Trees, how can I help you?” She says it softly but with an air of confidence as if she already knows why he’s there. Heat starts creeping up his neck and cheeks, but not because of the lack of air conditioning. This woman is beautiful, though he tells her later that it’s not enough to describe her. Bucky had seen plenty of beautiful women in his 100-something years, but none of them shined as she did. Her lavender sundress only enhanced her features, the flowers in her seemed like they belonged there. Putting on his signature ‘scary face’ as Sam called it, he tries to think of something to say to her. Her expression seems to change from investigative to understanding as her eyes widen slightly. 

“Oh, so you’re the one that they called…,” she trails off with uncertainty. She even gets on her tippy toes to throw a glance over his shoulder, her eyes questioning as they land back on Bucky. Bucky looks at her slightly bewildered, his senses feeling dulled and on overdrive at the same time. “The one they called?”, he asks, thoroughly confused. The woman shakes her head, fixing her face with a small smile as she starts grabbing some vials from one of the many shelves. “Nothing for you to worry about, I’ll just have to consult the cards again, you know how finicky they can be,” she says, voice sounding similar to the bell he’d rung when he got here. Trying to ignore the calm feeling invading his senses, Bucky tries to think of the things he does know: this woman is a potential threat, this appears to be some sort of shop, and this woman is… glowing? “Mhm, yeah, for sure,” he replies with a nod, trying to sound like he understands what this mystical woman is talking about. The woman grabs a small teacup from behind the counter and a tea kettle (where she got it from he has no idea) and starts pouring some of the liquids from the vials. When Bucky gives a slight raise of his brow, she gives him a small quirk of her lips. “Your back and shoulders are tense, no? This tea should help relax you a bit,” she says, her voice soft and calm. While her voice draws him in like a siren, Bucky tries to keep his senses on high alert, reminding himself this woman is a threat. 

“Thank you, but that’s not why I’m here,” Bucky says, trying to keep his face from relaxing too much. Her expression seems somber at that, the room seeming to lose a bit of its luster, and he feels his heart sink. Bucky soldiers through the air of disappointment. “I’m investigating some suspicious activity in this area.” Her expressions seem to go from bad to worse at that, her brows furrowing, the warmth in her expression fleeting. 

Looking Bucky up and down, her eyes widen a bit in recognition before she starts putting away the vials again. “Fury sent you here didn’t he? Blessed be, how many times do I have to tell him I’m not going to be his next Avenger,” she says, grabbing more vials before waving her hands in various directions. The plants seem to stand at attention, many of the herbs on the ceiling floating gently into her hands. Her motions are quick and agitated, brows furrowing more as she continues. “How dare he, after I was kind enough to send him and his stupid lab a sample of my plants, which are my mother’s by the way, for him to send me another agent.” 

She stops her rant to look at Bucky then, who is stood in a bit of awe and confusion a growing trend as her expression softens. “At least they sent a cute one,” she mutters to herself, unaware of Bucky’s super hearing. Bucky’s blush makes its home from his ears to his neck, the woman’s words affecting them more than they probably should. She slides the teacup closer to Bucky, expression calmer as more light filters through the cabin windows. “You might as well drink it since it’s been brewed. I’m sorry to have wasted your time,” she says, her expression apologetic, if not a bit embarrassed. 

Bucky snaps out of his confusion then, mentally cursing out Fury for making him do a stakeout for no reason, especially when the woman was clearly not interested. “‘S not your fault, Fury doesn’t normally take ‘no’ for an answer,” Bucky says gently taking the cup in his gloved hand. She gives a small huff then, her expression growing less exasperated. “He likes to think I don’t notice those cameras flying around, but I just don’t need that responsibility. I’m just a flower girl in the woods,” she says, her hands blindly grabbing a vial before bringing it up to her nose. Bucky looks at questioningly before she tips the vial in his direction, a distinct smell of eucalyptus wafting at his nose. “I don’t know anything about flowers, but I can see why Fury wanted to recruit you,” he says, his shoulders relaxing as he lets the aura of the cabin envelope him. She looks at Bucky questioningly, her eyes shimmering. “Why do you say that, handsome agent?” Her tone is a bit mischievous, her smile growing. Bucky lets his lips quirk into a smile as the blush returns to his face, his heart thumping in his chest. “We don’t have anyone on the team who is like you,” he says genuinely. The room seems to get a bit brighter, but she looks disbelieving. “Don’t you have the Scarlet Witch?”, she proposed. Bucky gave her a very obvious once-over, wondering how this woman didn’t know she was the most vibrant being he’d ever seen. Wanda was an amazing person but Bucky’s instincts were telling him this woman was more than what he’d seen today. “You seem to be more than just a flower girl in the woods,” he replied, the blush still present on his cheeks. Her eyes move away from his, her hand fiddling with the vial as her face grows flustered.

Suddenly her eyes widen and her posture stiffens, the room brightening as if a light bulb had been turned on. “Oh this makes much more sense…” she says to herself. Bucky looks at her questioningly before she straightens her back and looks at him directly in the eyes, narrowed but not maliciously. Learning from the past couple of minutes, he resigns himself to the fact that this woman will probably never make full sense to him. Many emotions show quickly over her face from confusion to surprise to understanding. Seemingly settled, she looks at Bucky almost appreciatively. 

“You can tell Fury he’ll see me very soon,” she says, her voice confident. Bucky stares at her for a moment before replying tentatively, “You’re not joining just ‘cause Fury is pressuring you right? You don’t owe him anything.” Shaking her head she gives Bucky a soft look, her posture relaxed but sure. “No, you could say I have a good feeling about being an Avenger,” she says, a smirk on her lips. Bucky stares at her for a moment, trying to figure out this enigma of a woman. A sigh escapes his lips as Bucky looks at her consideringly, “If you say so.” Turning his body to leave, he feels something warm touch his hand. His head snaps towards the source, the woman now a couple of inches away, no counter between them. 

“I’m assuming I’ll be seeing you again,” she says, the contact bringing back the blush to his cheeks. Bucky tries to get rid of the haze in his head, struggling to get back any semblance of control as his heart beats loudly in his chest. “I hope so,” he replies, his voice too eager for his liking. 

She gives him a sunny smile, her eyes crinkling, and nose scrunching as she drops her hand from his. Before Bucky can be disappointed at the loss of touch, she says, “Have a good day, handsome agent.” All coy and happy, Bucky couldn’t help but smile back, the blush on his cheeks coming back full force. Continuing towards the door, all he can muster is a small wave before he walks out into the woods. 

Not far from the door stands a very smug Nick Fury, complete with a SHIELD jet waiting behind. Bucky’s smile drops from his face, a frown taking its place. “Mission completed Sarge, time for that vacation,” Furt says, his tone overly cheerful. Feeling his headache coming back already, Bucky points an accusatory finger at Fury. “Why would you send me on a useless stakeout when the woman was clearly uninterested,” he asks, already having an inkling to what the answer is. Fury gives him a small nod before replying, “She ended up saying yes didn’t she?” He says it as a rhetorical question, but not without promptly waking into the jet. 

You were proud of yourself. Three wins on one game night is better than nothing. Usually, you’re a sore loser every time you’re invited over. 

It seemed like everything was going your way tonight. 

Until you caught Loki studying the cover of your book as you read. 

After you finished your last book on the train on the way to work, you decided to shove your worn copy of Coriolanus in place and never bothered to take it out. So naturally, that was your reading material of choice tonight as you waited for the final stop. 

“May I help you?” You questioned, glancing up at the God that sat across from you. When he didn’t reply, you tried to direct your attention back to the book pages, rereading the huge section you had just skipped over 

You heard him shift, which made you look up at him again. However this time, you maintained eye contact. 

What do you say when a murderer is looking at your book late at night on your train back home? You didn’t want to end up dead by the end of this interaction. You had a life to carry on with. Manuscripts to finish, your dog to take care of, your parents to mildly ignore when they tell you how you should be living. 

Not dead on the A Train after being slain by Loki, the God of Mischief. 

He seemed like he was in a trance when he apologized quietly.

That was... odd. 

“I.. I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but notice the author’s name on the cover of your book,” he spoke up, finally leaning back on the seat as the train started to go in the direction of the third to last stop for the night. “Shakespeare, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Yes,” you said hesitantly, fighting the urge to look at the cover yourself to make sure that it was Shakespeare, even though you knew exactly what it was. “Another tragedy.”

“May I ask which? The title seems to be scratched off.”

You could feel your face heating up at his words. He noticed that? Now that you thought about it, it made sense that he was staring so long for the title.

“It’s uh, Coriolanus. Roman soldiers and stuff. Right up your alley if you think about it,” you said, your eyes darting back to the pages you were permanently stuck on. You didn’t want to see his reaction when he figured out you knew him. 

Loki seemed stunned at your reply for assuming such. It’s not like you had been wrong. You did some research on Asgard a while after 2012 and learned a thing or two about their politics. 

Quite Roman-esque in your unprofessional opinion. 

He seemed to mull it over for a moment before letting a chuckle out. “It appears you may be right, darling.”

Darling. 

That made chills run up your spine. Not... not in a bad way, though. You wouldn’t mind him calling you that again, as a matter of fact.

The conversation was cut by the screeching breaks of the train. You both braced yourselves in your seats so you didn’t slide with gravity as the train finally got to a stop, reaching the third to last station. 

The doors opened for no one, and waited. 

There was some sort of silence you couldn’t decipher as the doors waited for no one to arrive. You turned the page to your book, pretending to be reading. Your mind was still replaying the words Loki said. 

Mainly darling, but that's besides the point. 

Eventually, the doors closed and the train was back to moving. Loki was back to looking at your book cover, and you actually got pulled back into the script.

Until you were interrupted again. 

“Why is your copy in such poor quality?”

Loki’s voice was like velvet as he started to take interest in you again. 

“I’ve had it for a long, long time.”

That answer seemed enough for him. You started to reread a line of Volumnia’s when he continued speaking. 

“Could you tell me more about it?”

You wanted to hold yourself back, you really did. Maybe he had some kind of motive to do something bad? You don’t know if he’s turned good. He could still be the same man he was in 2012.  Regardless of your thoughts running wild, you awkwardly scooted a bit subconsciously to make more room for Loki to sit next to you. That’s when you knew it was game over. 

You told him about the plot in deep, deep detail. You spoke about each character as if you had written this play yourself. It was, after all, one of your favorites that you’ve been reading since your senior year of high school. 

Loki sat and listened intently, drinking in your unabashed excitement as you recounted everything that happens in this play; it was as if you had actually been in Rome when the play was set. 

He found it endearing. Most mortals were not passionate like you were about literature—or anything period. But, on the other hand, Loki hadn’t talked to many mortals since his deal with the Avengers granted him his freedom. 

Another thing he found interesting, he could listen to you talk about Shakespeare for hours. 

Loki had only read some of the cliché plays that were written. Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet, Twelfth Night. They all grasped his attention and he read them thoroughly when he had the time. But there seemed that in this moment, there was nothing quite like Shakespeare’s Coriolanus.

The train ride was less excruciating once you were talking. You found that Loki was actually well educated and not as much of an asshole as he seemed. Loki found you even more attractive than he had when he stepped into the train car. 

You were in the middle of passionately explaining Volumnia’s relationship with her son when the train came to a stop again, announcing the last stop. 

Neither you or Loki wanted this to end. 

“I—I’d love to keep going,” you started, suddenly realizing you spent so much time speaking, “but this is my stop.”

The usual dialogue came from the speakers as the doors wheezed open. Loki stood up from his seat with you as you gathered your things, your book in hand. 

“I fear this may be too forward,” he started, suddenly feeling nervous. “But may I walk you home?”

Never in your years of living did you expect to be asked by the man who took New York in his clutches to be walked home in the dead of night.

And never did you think you’d say yes. 

The two of you fell in step as you walked out of the subway car, silent as you took in the emptiness of the subway station. 

It was peaceful. A small part of the city that somewhat slept. You realized that you were less tense than when you started this journey, and smiled small as both you and Loki took the steps two at a time to reach the surface. 

Both of you made it onto the sidewalk before you realized something.

“You know,” you started carefully once your bag was secured on your back, “you don’t need to walk me back. I’m sure you have a curfew or... or something—“

“Darling, I assure you, I’m not needed back at the tower.” Loki gripped your hand gently to pull you to a full stop on the sidewalk now. “I’d much rather hear your passion for this work than hear my brother drone on about his lover.”

For some reason, that confession combined with his touch made your breath hitch. His hand felt as if it wasn’t warm, but not cold either. It was like the perfect temperature. 

Suddenly your mind wondered what it would feel like to be held in his arms. You were quick to wipe away that thought by blinking up at Loki, furrowing your brows together. 

“Are you sure? Sounds much more invigorating, hearing about someone’s dating life rather than being told about a Roman soldier in depth.”

“I am positive,” Loki chuckled in reply. “Your knowledge on this play is far better than any mortal’s. Almost as if you had studied with the Bard himself.”

You felt your face heat up from the compliment, and decided to keep your hand locked in his as you started to walk down the sidewalk again. 

“Flattering gets you nowhere, Loki.”

“I’m merely speaking the truth!” His voice sounded like he was accused of something like a child. This made you laugh. You just shook your head to dismiss the subject 

“So, back to Volumnia and how she’d rather her son die in battle than live a life of shame?”

“Please. I’m all ears.”

The walk back to your apartment was quicker than you expected as you broke down the rest of the play. And for once, you didn’t want to sleep. You wanted to stay up and keep talking to Loki. You didn’t care about the time or the place, you wanted to keep talking. 

Even if you’ve exhausted your extensive knowledge on this play. 

You and Loki stood in front of your apartment building, laughing at a small joke you had made about Caius Marcius yearning to fight Aufidius during an important meeting. 

The blanket of silence between you two was comfortable. You noticed Loki’s gaze seemed soft. Almost... loving. You tried to ignore it, but he seemed so smitten in this moment. The moonlight hit his face just right which made you swoon internally when you saw just how handsome he could be in the different lighting of the night.

“I really should get going,” you sighed, letting the heel of your hand gently rub at your eye. “I’ve got work tomorrow.”

Loki shifted his weight on his feet, seeming just as dejected as you. It was nice knowing you both didn’t want this night to end. 

“I’d like to see you again, if that—“

“Yes,” you cut him off instantly, looking up into his eyes. It was like a trance. You admittedly loved every second of it. 

He chuckled at your sudden response. Minutes, maybe even hours ago, you two had wanted nothing to do with each other.

And yet here you both stood, smitten in conversation, dancing around the harsh reality that you’d have to carry on with your lives after you stopped talking. 

You licked your dry lips slowly, a smile settling across your features before repeating yourself again. “Yes please.”

Loki smiled back at you before nodding. Neither of you knew what to do from here. It seemed as though goodbyes weren’t your forte. 

You fumbled for a moment, almost as if you were getting your keys from your bag.

Which you were doing, Loki realized. Getting your keys. And a pen, it seemed. You were quick to bite the plastic cap off before opening to the first page in your copy of Coriolanus and writing. 

Loki tried to see what you had written, but you were far too fast. By the time he tried to get a closer look, you were done writing and capped the pen before closing the book and passing it over to him.

“A reason to see me again.” 

You sounded breathless, as if you had just ran into him on the street and dropped everything onto the ground. Loki felt his heart speed up momentarily before taking the book carefully. 

“I already had a reason, darling.” Loki’s smile knocked the breath right out of you before he stepped a little closer to get in your personal space, reaching for one of your hands. You weren’t sure as to what he was doing until his long, gentle fingers were grabbing your own and lifted it up to press a kiss to your knuckles. 

You were blushing. You were certain of it. 

Loki had the same mischievous grin on his face as he looked at you, sitting on the Asgardian metal stool. A flowy white dress hung off your bare shoulders, holding an elegant posture as Loki sat behind an easel. A golden palette was in his hands, covered in oil paint, as he held a long and thin paint brush between his teeth, his lips curled up in a suggestive smile before frowning and shaking his head.

“What?” you said, the small smile you were holding faltered for a second at his look. “Is this position not sufficient for you?”

He scoffed, finally pulling his stare away from you, as he blended more paint on the pallet. “You are the most beautiful Asgardian I know. You could never be anything but splendid. That is why I picked you as my model for this painting of mine.”

At his words, you felt your cheeks warm slightly. You two always did this, banter and flirt, yet it never went farther than that. You haven’t let yourself realize that you wanted it to go further. 

He bit the paintbrush again, “Well…” he said, looking up at you again, slowly dragging his eyes over your form, going even slower at your bare legs, “There is only one thing that could improve.”

“And what may that be?” you inquired, cocking an eyebrow at him before you settled your face into the soft smile for the painting again.

His eyes burned into yours, staring, before he said with a face of pure seriousness. “I would suggest that you take your clothes off. Then it would be perfect.”

You stiffened, eyes widening ever so slightly as you digested what he just said. At your reaction he began to smirk. 

Something about that smirk ticked you off, so you gathered your wits and shook off any butterflies he just gave you. You stared him down as you slowly slid a strap of your dress off your shoulder.

His smirk immediately fell off his face.

You continued to slide the straps off, slow and steady, your fingertips brushing your collarbone. Elegantly, and with all the confidence you could muster, you stood up, letting the dress slide down your body and puddle at your bare feet.

Loki’s bright eyes shimmered as you slowly unclasp your bra, quickly joining the dress on the floor. Slowly, taking all the time in the world, while never taking your gaze off of Loki’s face, you slid your hands down the side of your body, before your thumbs hooked into your underwear, and slid them down as well.

Loki’s mouth opened slightly as he took in a deep breath, while you sat back down on the stool, completely naked.

You crossed your legs and adjusted your hair, using your fingers to fluff it up, and tuck the loose strands behind your head.

Cocking your head at him, and keep a strong posture, you asked “Will this suffice?”

He coughed slightly before regaining his composure. “You never fail to surprise me, Y/N.”

It seemed however, that the palette and paintbrush in his hands were long forgotten. His eyes were drinking you in, pouring over the body you were now proudly displaying just for him.

You cleared your throat, causing him to quickly look at your face again, a blush shone for a second on his pale face.

“Oh I am so sorry. Am I distracting you, Loki?” you taunted, grinning.

At your teasing words, Loki paused, before an animalistic smile bloomed on his face,

“No Y/N. You couldn’t be distracting me because my only goal in the exact moment of my long life would be to memorize and worship that body of yours.”

Your breath hitched at his words, an electric chill running through your body, before you replied, “Is that so?”

As if time stood still, you unhooked your ankles, and ever so slowly spread your knees apart. Revealing everything to him.

“Yes.” he growled softly before tossing his palette and paintbrush to the floor, and stood up steadily from his chair. “I plan to worship every inch of that body.”

It's not that you didn't enjoy eating fancy meals when you and Loki were by yourselves. Or quick homemade meals most days with Elliot and Frigg. But you missed your mom's food.

That's why when she called you to say that she had left something for you and the kiddos on the doorstep you drove as fast as the law would allow you to pick up Frigg from kindergarten and Elliot from his afterschool club to get home. Quick.

When you saw the beaten up deep pot, clearly used past it's intended years, your eyes got glossy. You remembered that old pot.

Frigg and Elliot swarmed you with questions about what was in it.

"It's smells really good!" Elliot said trying to get a peek.

"Does that mean we're not eating spaghetti again?" Frigg's eyes widened in excitement.

"Hey! You love my pasta." You pouted placing the pot on the counter before leaning down and kissing her neck as she laughed and squirmed out of your grip.

"But what is it?" Elliot asked trying to get on top of the counter to look inside the pot.

You catched him before he could climb up. "Eh! No climbing the counter. You know that!" You admonished him half-seriously.

"But I want to know!" He pouted. Oh yeah. He totally took that from you.

"Then let me open it and let's see!"

When you opened the lid a heavenly aroma rose from the pot. A soup with an array of different vegetables and some type of meat was on the pot. A little bit of the oil from the guiso still floating at the top, but not enough to make it look greasy.

Your jaw dropped when you recognized the meat. "Oh my god es lagarto..." 

"LAGARTO!?" Elliot shrieked horrified.

"What?" Frigh asked confused.

You mentally slapped yourself. You shouldn't have said it like that. While trying to make an effort for your kiddos to know a bit of your mother tongue you had completely forgotten that colloquial language was also a thing, and not every overly simplified card game with animal names in spanish could explain everything to a nine-year-old.

"No, Elliot, that's not what it means."

"Then what does it mean?" He asked, obviously concerned at the prospect of potentially eating a lizard.

"It's a way of calling this type of meat. It's part of the cow, just like any other steak. It's just a way of speaking." You smiled as his concern slowly drained from his face. "On the other hand this is one of the softest parts to eat! You guys are really going to like it!" 

Placing it back onto the stove and turning the heat on, you ask your kids to go change and come back to help you set the table for the night.

As you finished getting everything ready your mind flew back to your culture. You had to admit that there had been a certain disconnect with it ever since you had moved to New York, and it only grew as your shenanigans with Loki augmented.  But it was something that was yours and you wanted your children to also appreciate.

A smile came to your face as you thought of an idea. But you couldn't do it today. You would have to wait a bit.

Loki was delighted when he saw the gift from his mother-in-law. He was the first to admit that the relationship with your parents was... bumpy at best. But marrying a reformed super villian isn't exactly every parents' dream, is it? But they respected your decision and were supportive where they could, even if they lived a bit far away.

The meal that day was great, and there was some leftovers that you put on a Tupperware to take to work tomorrow. Nothing in the house went to waste, and that was a law.

Loki noticed whispers among you and the children for the next few weeks, and even heard a couple of times scrambling and shushing as he came home from meeting and such.

He was starting to get suspicious, especially one night, when after finally getting Frigg to sleep, he came into the room to find you pushing something far into the closet.

He wanted to ask you about it, but he trusted you. And he honestly couldn't resist when you kissed him so lovingly. It just melted his troubles away whenever you were next to him.

Almost a month later he found what all the secrecy had been about. He came in the small apartment waiting the usual scene of you and the kids getting ready for dinner, but he found something even better.

You were sitting on the floor with Frigg on your lap beaming up at him. Both of you were wearing traditional clothes from your country. Flowers decorating your hairstyle, which consisted of tying it up on a bun.

Elliot stood by your side on a male style of the traditional costume. His mop of hair covered by a traditional sewn hat.

You three beamed at his delighted confusion. And you nodded at Elliot who played some flokloric music on the speaker and, after pulling Loki to sit on the couch, you three began singing and dancing around him as you had practiced during the past weeks. The kids on a choppy, but adorable spanish, and you with the words flowing out of your mouth. Words you had known all of your life but hadn't said in a long time.

Loki was absolutely delighted at his little family and tried to partake by taking you and trying to follow your steps. And although it was very sloppy, you didn't care. It wasn't just the sheer happiness, or the smooth but old sounding man's voice that came from the speaker, it was everything. The smiles on yours and your kids' faces. The aroma of spices that Loki had never smelled before. Maybe once in a lifetime, but too long ago for him to remember it this vividly. The flow of your dress. The way it was clinging to your hips, yet it flowed at your feet, twirling almost magically as you spun around carrying a laughing Frigg on your arms. How your cleavage and shoulders were exposed by the white shirt.  It was everything. Everything that reminded Loki everyday why he loved you and why he was so happy to have chosen you over his own pride.

This was living. This was what it had meant to be alive. To enjoy the colorful moments. The mix of cultures. The beauty of the strong woman you had become. It sent him on a trip of emotions, a spiral of happiness that not even he could explain. Because now that the song had ended, his little daughter, his little miracle, said that she practiced a song and wanted to try and sing it to him. He agreed, euphoric, and you pulled him to sit on the couch and Elliot cuddled next to him to listen to his little sister.

You kneeled next to your daughter as she took a breath and began reciting the song that both of you had been practicing. A song that you had been raised with. That you grew up singing and now your baby girl was singing too. She began to sing in her choppy and wonderful spanish:

"La vaca mah-riposa tuvo un ter-ne'.

Un becerito lindo como un beh-beh!"

You giggled as you joined her to sing along with her.

"Dámelo papaito dicen los niños cuando lo ven nacer,

Y ella lo esconde por los mogotes, que no se

¡La vaca mariposa tuvo un terne'!

Y los pericos van,Y el Gavilán también,

Con frutas criollas hasta el caney para él,

Y mariposa está, que nos sabe que hacer.

Por que ella sabe la suerte de él."

Loki sees you both there. His little girl standing there looking down at her mom kneeling next to her, a loving expression. One that goes beyond words in both of your faces as you share in a song a lifetime an a million more that go from one generation to the next.

A pretty outfit that is almost identical between the both of you, Frigg's being a bit more age appropriate for a 4, almost 5 year old. And yours that accentuated your figure perfectly and made you look like a goddess from a fable from your people. A goddess of laughter, kindness and fertility that Loki was completly enamoured with.

As the song ended he and Elliot clapped as Frigg did a little bow and you followed her lead after she motioned a hand for you to do the same.

Promptly afterwards, Loki was taken hostage by the kiddos to look at the meal that they and their mom had proudly made.

Loki was amazed at the variety of foods that you had made. He saw the arepas, like the ones that you had offered him a long time ago, when hiding in your office seemed like a good idea.

"I remember these." He smirked.

You pushed past him to pick up the trays and take them to the dining table. "Oh, shut up." You smirked back.

The table was filled with many traditional dishes from your home country, surprisingly, many were fried. One had an egg on top of it and ketchup.

"Don't judge me. Judge my ancestors. I still don't get the egg. But I said "eh, I might as well go all out!"" You offered as an explanation as you placed a tray with tequeños next to the traditional drink chicha.

Loki mildly remembered parties, and banquets and feasts back in Asgard. But there was nothing in the world that could make him forget something like this. And of course, he loved to have casual dinners with you and his little family, but this felt special, it felt like when you sit next to the heart at a cozy home. It feels right and safe. And yeah, you are playing a game with Elliot and Frigg to get them to eat their veggies, not just the deliciously fried tequeños. But it was his family, it was his life, it was you and your kids in lovely folkloric outfits and feeling safe.

It was everything that he had ever wished for. And he knew that he had never expected the universe to be this kind to him. That's why he was so thankful.

---

“darling I have faced some of the greatest threats this universe has ever known, and yet you scare me more than anything else I’ve ever known”

“I scare you?’

“more than anything, from the first day I met you I knew that you would be more of a danger to me than anything that i have or would face”

“and what of death?’

“my love, death is but the next great adventure”

Once the grief had subsided, longing and melancholy remembrance took its place. It was a comfortable sort of sadness, the simple quiet of a house once filled with his sarcastic remarks and stupid tricks. There was a time when you would be annoyed that all of your belongings had been charmed to the ceiling or that all of you socks had gone missing under suspicious circumstances. What you would give to hear him laugh one more time as you yelled at him from another room. Now he lives in the little things, things from your time together that remind you of him. Simple things like the smell of old books from the bookstore you both adored, or raindrops on a car window, a stack of pamphlets from countless museum dates, grass underfoot and the seemingly endless supply of ornate daggers scattered throughout the house in random locations that when asked about always evoked the same response; “just trust me”, paired with a devious grin. 

There’s an old book sitting on the coffee table, pages worn from years of use, well loved by the both of you. You smile sadly as memories of him reading it to you as you both lie in bed flood back. You pick it up, your fingers tracing the embossed cover, it’s comforting in its familiarity. As you open it, you notice an inscription on the inside of the cover that hasn’t been there before, the four words simply reading,

“It was always you”

Neat and cursive, Loki’s. 

You smiled sadly as the tears well up behind your eyes, and in your heart you know that he’s sitting in the halls of Valhalla, laughing at some stupid trick.

There was a fire in her eyes. Wild and uncontainable; She was never one to back down from a fight. There was a fierceness in her that exceeded any girl I had ever known, and I very much doubted there would ever be one more electric than her. “Morgan, hey, it’s just me!” “Elliot! Sorry, I thought you were someone else”, she laughed, and her gaze softened. Whenever she smiled, so did her eyes. They were warm and chocolate-like, afire with depth and emotion, and so very easy to get lost in. I always thought they glimmered like the lakes of Asgard, which I would one day get to take her to see. Perhaps the sun would hit her eyes just in the right angle and make them blossom with colour, different shades of brown, all from honey to caramel and chocolate. It brought out all the nuances of her dark hair and revealed her lashes to be a warm, deep brown rather than jet black. And just enough sun would even entice her freckles to make an appearence on her nose and cheeks. Morgan was so breathtakingly pretty.

At that point I realized I had been staring, and could not turn my face away fast enough. Good thing frost giants don’t blush easily! Mom says that the eyes are the mirror to the soul. I didn’t really believe that, but Morgan has most definitely proved me wrong. She really has the kindest eyes, which totally matches her soul. I can’t remember meeting many people as kind as she is; She sticks with me and hangs out with me instead of the popular kids. That’s why our classmate Jeremy keeps saying things like “still haven’t discovered the element of cool?” to her and calls her Iron Nerd. She refuses to tell her parents about it and actually got mad at me when I told her she didn’t have to hang out with me, that she could go with the populars and we could meet up outside of school.

It’s hard to believe she would ever hurt anyone. Well… Anyone who didn’t deserve it. There was that one time she got into a fist fight and her dad showed up after the teachers called him. She was so grounded! I still can’t understand how Mr. Stark could ground her for six weeks, when Morgan was giving him the puppy dog eyes. Mom did say it took him years to learn to resist the look though. I would never learn, that much I had already decided. Morgan would always be able to get my scarf on a cold day or have me carry her books to class. Mr. Stark knows this and sometimes makes comments about it, mainly stuff like “are you sure you are Loki’s kid?”. I’m not sure what he means, but I like him. He’s carefree and makes the people around him laugh. Not as much as Morgan, but he’s still nice. I remember him being pretty cool - no pun intended - when I was little and he first saw me turn blue. He did treat me differently because of it for a long time. Not in a bad way, but he kept telling Morgan not to bring it up, and pretended not to see, if it happened. I like it when Morgan talks about it, because it makes her laugh. She calls me things like popsicle and smurf, and I made her call Frigg blueberry.

A smack brought me back to reality. “Ow, what was that for?” “The bell rang, Dory”, Morgan sneered. “I gotta go to class. See you after?” I nodded and gave her a smile. She was having a double science lecture, but I had promised we would walk together to the Tower, even though my day was already over. She was great at science, one of the best in her class. Another reason for the nickname Jeremy had given her. I think maybe he was just jealous of Morgan, who was really smart and good at well… Everything! She aced languages, science subjects, art class and P.E. Dodgeball was her favourite thing; She has the movements of a fox and was always the last player standing, even when it was boys against girls.

Over two hours later the bell rang and the doors opened. I got up from the floor as students flooded the hall and waited for a sunny Morgan to emerge, like she alwayd did. Not today, though. Today I was greeted by a hung head, as the students got out of the way, and Morgan was the last out of the class, dragging her feet. “Morg? What happened?” She just shook her head and turned her face away, but I could see the tears in her eyes, and they broke my heart. “Let’s get some ice cream, what do you say?” I tried cheering her up, but she shook her head again, and with a small voice pleaded that we just went home. Without doubt I agreed. Maybe her dad would get her to open up.

“It’s baby reindeer!” Mr. Stark’s voice came from the kitchen, when I walked Morgan in from the elevator. “Your dad is down training with Point Break.” He had a wide smile on his face as he came to greet us, a stain on his temple probably from working on something in his lab, but the smile died when he saw his daughter. “Morguna, honey, what is it?” he asked and gently wiped her teary eyes. I stood helpless, as she was silent for a good while, before peeping quietly: “We talked about your heart in science.” Mr. Stark’s worried face relaxed and he smiled softly. “This?” he asked, and tapped at the arc reactor with two fingers. Morgan nodded and looked away. “They said… Things.” “What things? That your dad’s a genius? The guy who saved the world?” he smirked, and made Morgan finally smile. “Yeah… Yeah, that’s what they said.”

I was going to ask Morgan once again to tell her dad how much shit was thrown her way in school, but then I saw her eyes. They had returned to the warm, glimmery state, and she was smiling. I couldn’t risk losing that smile. “Hey Frosty, want that ice cream?” “Yeah.”

Bonus! The original draft

“Oops, sorry, let me help you!” I blurted after accidentally running into Morgan so hard she had dropped the books she had been carrying in her arms. I was just about to pick up her math book, when my hand touched her hand. Her skin was so soft and warm, and reminded me of mom’s skin. Good thing frost giants don’t blush easily! On instinct I withdrew my hand as fast as I could, as did Morgan, but when I looked up, I wasn’t the only frozen thing in the hallway. Morgan was staring at me, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t look away. Norns, I swear even my breathing stopped.

They say the eyes are the mirror of the soul. Mom believes those kinds of things, as does Grandma Frigga, and mom keeps telling me about how I have dad’s eyes. She says she wouldn’t have it any other way, because she loves everything about dad’s eyes. I never put much faith it such things, but now, as I was staring into Morgan’s eyes… All I could hear was my heartbeat racing. Morgan had such beautiful eyes. Warm, chocolate brown eyes, like a puppy dog. They were kind and whenever she smiled, so did her eyes. Right now she was smiling. Slightly blushing too, but I didn’t notice, my mind was far too busy. She had long dark eyelashes and they framed her eyes, sparkling like the lakes of Asgard. I hoped that one day I could take her there. She would fit right in the landscape, and I bet she would love the horses.

Whenever I’m sad, mom tells me that nothing lasts forever. Neither did this, because there he was now. Jeremy was our classmate and he had targeted Morgan. I had been picked on since first grade, so for me it was nothing new, but Morgan had fallen unpopular in high school after she had chosen to hang out with me instead of the popular kids, like Jeremy. She was having a hard time, but wouldn’t let me help her. She had been that way since we were small. “Yo, Iron Nerd, still haven’t discovered the element of cool?”