Chapter Text
I Need Air
III.
Loki stood, shivering, in the foyer of a shabby, seedy, and somewhat damp brownstone in the heart of Brooklyn. He was not far from where he woken up after his "nasty fall," and that pleased him. Loki would be near to a portal to Asgard, then, after all.
Loki pulled his hand from his pocket to fiddle with the tie around his neck. He felt like he was choking, but Steve said he would soon get used to that. Steve had also assured Loki that the abnormally high, and tight, waist on his pants was the fashion.
“Where are you from, again?" Steve had asked for the umpteenth time after he had taken Loki back to his cramped apartment to "get him into some proper clothes."
"I'm from Asgard," Loki said matter-of-factly, his back turned to his companion. The Jotunn had looked about the shabby one-room apartment that was decorated with charcoal and pencil drawings. He idly wondered who had created the pieces.
"Asgard?" Steve echoed, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
Loki had looked over his shoulder at Steve as he buttoned his borrowed shirt. The young man’s fingernails were dirtied with something black like soot… charcoal. "Yes, Asgard. It's a faraway place, hard to get to." He frowned, a distant look in his eyes. "Hard to leave."
Steve raised an eyebrow at Loki but hadn't pressed any further. "So where are you staying?" he asked as Loki inspected a portrait of a thin woman.
"Who's this?" Loki had asked, reaching out to touch the drawing.
Steve stepped between the strange man and the portrait. "That's my mother."
Loki nodded slowly, and drew his hand back. "You look like her."
There was a pause.
"Thank you," Steve had finally said before repeating, "Where are you staying?" He picked up a wide black tie from the bed and offered it to Loki.
Loki had taken the tie and placed it around his neck, fiddling with the ends for a moment before looking at Steve with a frown on his face.
Steve had laughed, “Here, I’ll get it.” He moved towards Loki, but stopped short when the other man sneered.
“How am I ever supposed to learn if you do it for me?” Loki had asked, and Steve stepped back.
"Alright, pal,” the blond man said, and untied the knot around his own neck. “Here, like this.” Steve had retied the fabric slowly, clearly demonstrating the movements to Loki, who was mimicking him. Soon, a large, lumpy knot formed at the hollow of Loki’s throat.
Loki tugged at the tie around his neck, still feeling like he was choking in the foyer of the brownstone, but at least the knot was presentable this time. Steve was most useful in helping to assimilate him to mortal culture, but he believed this necktie would be the death of him. Loki smirked to himself, he could imagine it—the great Loki brought down by a simple length of fabric. His smirk hardened into a deep frown. At least no mortal woman would be the death of him.
“Mr. Laufeyson?” a voice called out from the front door of the brownstone, startling Loki from his reverie. A portly man in a brown suit stepped into the foyer, carrying a slim briefcase.
The Jotunn smiled artlessly. “Ah, Mr. Johnson,” he said smoothly, reaching out to shake the man’s hand. “I trust the contract is in order?”
Mr. Johnson set his briefcase on the ground, and pulled a small stack of papers out of it. “Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” he said, filing through the papers before selecting one to hand to Loki. “If you would just sign here, the residence is all yours.”
“Where are you staying?” Steve had said again, a little more insistently.
Loki had glared at Steve; the young man had interrupted his knot-making. He shrugged. “I don’t know; I’ll get a room at a hotel.”
Steve had frowned, moving to sit on the narrow bed that took up most of the room. “Are you staying long in the city?”
Loki shrugged again. “I don’t know, maybe. Depends on the business, I guess.”
“Business?” Steve had asked warily.
“And the furnishings are included?” Loki smiled, maybe a little too widely, more like a baring of his teeth at the portly man. Loki took the contract from him, along with a proffered pen. He signed with a flourish, carefully dotting the “I”. “There,” he said, somewhat smugly. “May I have the keys?” Loki held out his hand.
“Ah, yes,” the man in the brown suit said, fishing the aged keys out of his pocket. “Mr. Laufeyson, there were some, ah, concerns, about your ability to pay for the residence?” The portly man made it sound like a question, rather than a statement.
Loki smiled with all his teeth again; he could tell he frightened the man. “No need to worry, Mr. Johnson,” Loki said placatingly. “As you know, I have just come into a large inheritance from my late father.” The Jotunn looked down in silence for a moment, mocking the gesture of respect. “And if you were to make an inquiry, you would find I’m gainfully employed with the Office of Strategic Services.” Loki cocked an eyebrow and gazed evenly down at the portly man, who was rather short. “Though I am sure such an inquiry would not be made, as it would be a waste of resources.” Loki tilted his head to the side by a fraction. “Don’t you know there’s a war on, Mr. Johnson? Trouble’s brewing on the homefront; we mustn’t waste our energy on petty minutia.”
“Yes, business,” Loki had said, looking at Steve sharply from the corner of his eye. “I am a business man, my commodity is information.” Steve’s eyes widened, but he had remained silent. “Jeepers, Steve, don’t look at me like that. I won’t be selling information to the Huns.”
Mr. Johnson was clearly startled, taken aback by Loki’s point-blank comment. “Yes,” the man said after a tense pause, drawing the word out into two syllables. “We mustn’t.” Mr. Johnson slid the signed contract back into his briefcase. Looking up at Loki, Mr. Johnson held out his hand for another handshake. “It was… nice… doing business with you, Mr. Laufeyson.”
“No, you won’t,” Steve said firmly. “Because that would be treason.” He gazed at Loki evenly, as if trying to weigh the Jotunn’s loyalties.
Finally he spoke again. “There is a brownstone, not far from here; the owner has passed away.”
Loki raised an eyebrow. “This is important because…?”
“Because the house is for sale. You look like the kind of guy who can afford his own house,” Steve said simply before cracking a smile. “Even if you don’t know how to knot your own tie.”
Loki took the portly man’s hand. “Yes, Mr. Johnson, I won’t soon forget what you’ve done for me,” he said, shaking Mr. Johnson’s hand with a too-tight grip.
The man swallowed hard, visibly nervous. “It was no trouble at all, Mr. Laufeyson,” he said slowly, carefully.
Loki smiled, a true smile this time, and that seemed to unnerve Mr. Johnson even more. “Good,” Loki said. “Good.”