Chapter Text
“You’re heading out for work again? It’s almost nine, Hela. Nine p.m.”
“Yeah, well, you know what they say. No rest for the wicked,” your apartment mate replied with a wry shrug.
You pointed accusingly at her from where you sat on the couch. “You’re a lawyer. Isn’t upholding justice technically the opposite of being wicked?”
Hela snorted, flapping her hand at you as she pulled on a jacket. “I’m a criminal defense attorney. My job is literally bending justice to what benefits my client.”
You pursed your lips and tipped your head in acknowledgement as Hela reached the door. She paused, patting her pockets and rifling through her purse for a second before casting a conflicted look in your direction.
“Check by the stove.” You punctuated the instruction with a finger pointing to the aforementioned location; Hela followed, sighing in relief as she scooped up her keys and clacked back over to the doorway.
“You’re the best,” she called as the door closed behind her. A moment later, her head popped back in. “Hey, my brother’s flight gets in tonight. I was going to go pick him up from the airport, but I don’t know if I’ll be out of this client meeting when he lands—is it okay with you if I just text him the address and have him meet me to grab my key?”
Hela looked just as polished as ever, but there was a mania in her eyes that suggested she was running on fumes and a few bites of cold takeout. She’d been in and out of the apartment all night, talking tersely on the phone while alternating between typing furiously and scrolling over PDFs on her laptop. In short, she looked like death. You sighed.
“Just give him the address and my number, I’ll stay up and let him in.”
You’d met Thor a few times and you liked him, even if he was essentially the anti-Hela in both looks and personality. He was a chill guy, fun to be around, even if he looked like he could squish your head between his biceps like a grape, so naturally you’d agreed when Hela had asked a month earlier if he could stay a few nights at your place when he came to visit.
“You are a blessing.” Hela’s ringtone blared tinnily from her purse; she swore as she fished it out and you figured it was her law firm. “I have to run. See you!”
“You owe me one!” you called after Hela before settling back on the couch. Your own phone buzzed a few seconds later—she’d texted you a screenshot of her brother’s flight information. According to the itinerary, you had a few more hours to kill before Thor was supposed to arrive. Another episode it was.
The sharp, staccato knocking on the door wasn’t what woke you. Neither was the groaning creak of the apartment door opening, although that did rouse you slightly. No, what really made you bolt upright from where you had fallen asleep on the couch, neck cricked rather uncomfortably around the corner of the armrest, was the muttered swear as someone kicked the stool that Hela had left in the entryway.
Or more accurately, the stool the two of you always left in the entryway as a Home Alone-esque measure against the occasional drunk neighbor—you and Hela always joked about fending off burglars by turning the apartment into an obstacle course, but you’d never expected that it’d ever become a reality. Hela would have warned her brother about it—in fact, you were pretty sure that Thor had asked about the stool last time he had visited. Whoever was in the apartment now hadn’t known, and was moving far too quietly to be Robyn from down the hall—the woman was sweet, but a few drinks turned her into the loudest being in existence.
You slowly slid your laptop to the floor, trying not to breathe too loudly. The couch wasn’t in direct line of sight from the door, but if you leaned over too far, whoever had just broken in would definitely see you. They were in the kitchen now from the sound of their footsteps. How had they gotten in, anyway? No matter how deeply you’d fallen asleep, you were sure you couldn’t have slept through them kicking through the lock…oh God.
You hadn’t locked the door after Hela left.
An annoyed huff came from the room over and you froze, a silent shitshitshit resting on the tip of your tongue.
A quick, panicked series of button-smashing on your unresponsive phone informed you that it had died while you were sleeping. Great, your phone got to die peacefully in its sleep while you were stuck with some stranger in your apartment who almost certainly wouldn’t afford you the same luxury.
Your heart pounded painfully against your ribs as you held your breath, swung your legs over the back of the couch, and eased off behind it, inching towards the metal bat Hela insisted on keeping in the corner.
Dial tones beeped and a digital bringggg echoed through the wall before an automated voice sounded: “Sorry, the number you dialed is currently unavailable—”
“Damn it.”
The man’s voice was smoother than you’d expected, even through his hiss. Oh well, nice voice or not, this guy was gonna get brained; the bat was just a few steps away, and it seemed like you’d be able to surprise him. The phone rang again before the same automated message sounded.
“Hela, pick up, you absolute ass!”
Your brow furrowed in concern at the sound of her name. Why would a burglar be calling Hela? Or making a phone call at all, come to think of it?
Suddenly, it clicked into place: Hela had been complaining about a guy she’d gone out for dinner with who wouldn’t leave her alone after she’d tried to break things off; you’d teased her about the growing list of her Casanovian “conquests” at the time, but after she’d blocked his number, the guy had slipped completely from your mind.
Relief swept over you—creepy obsessive dude who couldn’t take a hint, you could handle. Wasn’t the first time Hela had found someone lacking and they’d come around trying to get her back, after all.
Sure enough, the guy tried dialing again: “Hela, it’s me—”
You grabbed the bat and stepped out into the kitchen, cutting him off.
“Look, Hela doesn’t wanna see you anymore. Learn to take no for an answer, alright?”
The man turned to look at you, an incredulous scoff rolling from his lips as one eyebrow lifted arrogantly. You took in his image, scanning him over.
Head to toe black, pressed suit—props for effort, you thought sarcastically to yourself—dark hair curling over broad shoulders, glinting, cold eyes set over almost inhumanly sharp cheekbones and pale, fine skin. The resemblance was uncanny.
You let out a bark of laughter as you hefted the bat. “I get it, I’d be upset if Hela broke up with me too. She’s the whole package: smart, gorgeous, honestly amazing. But trust me, I’ve heard enough about what you’ve done to know that when she told you to go fuck yourself, it was not an invitation to go dress up like her and slip into her bed.”
His arched eyebrow climbed higher. “Excuse me?” He gestured towards you, disdain curling his lip. “Is this some sort of stupid test?”
“What? Dude, get out of my apartment! I thought you were just lucky Hela didn’t slap you with a restraining order, turns out you’re just—”
“You live here?” The man’s other eyebrow joined its twin halfway up his forehead before he rolled his eyes. A pacifying smile spread over his face as he held his hands out placatingly, taking a step closer and ignoring the immediate step you took back. “Look, this is all a misunderstanding. I didn’t realiz—”
“Get out!” You swung wildly at him, trying to drive him towards the door. God, you needed to talk to Hela about her taste in men. “I’ll call the police!” you shouted when the man didn’t budge except to lean away from your wide swing.
“By all means, go ahead.”
A sneer replaced the man’s smile as he dodged your increasingly panicked swings with alarming ease. “I’m sure they’ll be very understanding. I ought to let you know you’re assaulting a personal injury lawyer!”
“Weird flex but okay, creep!” You caught a glimpse of the oven clock as you took another flurry of swings. Thor’s flight should have arrived by now—where was he? “Besides, you think I can’t prove this was in self-defense?!”
“You think that I can’t prove this is assault? Won’t that be news, legendary criminal defense attorney Hela Odinson’s flatmate turns out to be a crimi—”
You cut him off with an unholy scream powered by every atom of oxygen in your lungs. If you couldn’t call the police, you could damn well try to get your neighbors to do it for you.
“Jesus, woman!”
You yelped as he lunged for you and darted away, swinging as you scrambled towards the door. He followed, ducking between you and the door, arms stretched out to block you. In the next second, a few things happened in very quick succession:
The door opened and Hela appeared behind it, looking even more haggard than when she had left.
The man’s mouth opened, but he had the unfortunate good sense to roll away as you screeched and swung at his head, leaving Hela directly in the path of the metal bat.
Her hand shot up and the end of the bat slammed into her palm with an audible crack before Hela wrenched the entire thing from your grasp and let it drop with a dull clank. Her icy blue eyes traveled from your shocked face to the man standing in your kitchen.
“What the hell are you two doing?”
Both you and the man launched into explanatory tirades as Hela pushed past you, shedding her jacket and tossing it onto a chair on her way to the fridge. Both her hands snapped up, exasperation radiating tersely from her palms.
“Stop. One at a time,” she commanded. You both shut your mouths. One finger pointed authoritatively at you as Hela turned to rummage through the fridge. “Talk. Now.”
“I accidentally fell asleep on the couch and left the door unlocked, this creep kicked over the stool and woke me up. I came in while he tried to call you and told him that you weren’t interested, but he wouldn’t leave, so I, uh, used the bat.”
“Mm, great security,” Hela remarked dryly. “What do you mean, ‘not interested’?”
Now it was your turn to raise your eyebrows at her. “Hela, I try not to mom-friend you, but is this not the same guy you were considering filing a restraining order against? Who cares if he’s a lawyer, the guy broke into your apartment at two in the morning!”
Hela emerged from the fridge to squint at you in confusion. “Wha—oh my God, no!” She whipped around to look at the man, who was glaring at you with an acidic mixture of scorn and frustration. “Oh God, that’s disgusting, no. That’s—ew, no, that’s not Jim.”
“I have been trying to tell her—”
“Why didn’t you call her?” Hela demanded, pulling out a carton of takeout from the Chinese place a few blocks away. She stalked over to the counter the man was leaning on and dumped the contents onto a plate before poking her finger into his chest aggressively. “I gave you her number for a reason!”
He swatted her hand away irritably. “I did, Hela! The call wouldn’t go through, and you weren’t picking up either.”
She slammed the microwave door shut and punched the start button with a vengeance. “I was in a meeting, dumbass, and I told you that when I texted earlier.”
“Hey, uh, sorry to interrupt,” you said, not feeling particularly sorry at all, “but do you mind explaining?”
Hela turned to look at you, a hint of a smile flickering around her fatigued mouth. At the sight, the man groaned and dragged his hand down the side of his face.
“I suppose introductions are in order.” Hela chuckled darkly. “Loki, this is my flatmate. I’ll let her decide if you get to know her name or not. This is my brother, Loki.”
She peered at you over her radiated plate of steaming lo mein as you gaped. Suddenly the uncanny resemblance between the two made much more sense. Whoops.
“I was expecting Thor,” you offered weakly, with an attempt at a half-hearted, apologetic smile. Hela rolled her eyes and shoveled a heaping forkful of noodles into her mouth, chewing ravenously and swallowing in record time.
“Figured. I did forget to mention which brother, didn’t I? Sorry, Lolo.” She patted him on the shoulder.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, my darling little Lolo.” Hela suddenly turned back to you, a gleam of interest coming into her gaze. “Wait, he told you he was a lawyer?”
“Uh, yeah. Personal injury attorney,” you answered. Loki shifted uncomfortably, avoiding your curious gaze as Hela let out a bark of grainy laughter.
“No need to go into the details,” he said, a little too emphatically.
“Hush, Loki.” He fell silent, glaring at the floor with renewed purpose. Hela’s eyes glittered as she jerked her head at her brother. “He’s an actor. Classically trained, drove Dad crazy when he was a teenager. Used to go around the house spouting monologues and practicing acceptance speeches.”
“Hela, is it really necessary—?”
“Anyways, I am exhausted and I have to be in another meeting in,” Hela glanced at the digital clock display, “four hours, so if you two go back to trying to kill each other, please do it quietly and in someone else’s apartment. Goodnight!”
And with that, she swept out of the kitchen, leaving behind an empty plate and a very irritated Loki.
Heaving a deep breath, you approached him slowly and extended a hand as you gave him your name. “Sorry about earlier. Hela didn’t specify, and I’ve only ever met Thor before, so…”
Loki eyed you warily, as though you were a wild animal susceptible to suddenly biting him, before gingerly shaking your proffered hand.
“Pleasure,” he told you in a tone that suggested it was anything but.
Silence yawned uncomfortably between you.
“Right,” you said finally, “you probably want to get some sleep. Guest room’s this way.”
You turned and walked quickly to the third bedroom in the apartment as Loki’s footsteps and his suitcase clattered along behind you. “Bathroom’s right there, feel free to grab blankets or pillows off the couch if you need them.”
He smiled tightly in response and you hurried to your own bedroom, releasing your breath in a rush after the door clicked shut behind you.
Hela’s history had always been a bit of an enigma to you; she’d suddenly appeared in your life after the two friends you had originally planned to share the apartment with bailed, leaving you one hefty security deposit deep with two vacancies in the lease and an impossible amount of rent looming over you if you couldn’t find replacements. Hela had swooped in and co-signed with you the same day she’d come in to look at the place. When you’d explained that you were still looking for a third person, she’d just fixed you with that curious, unreadable stare and told you that she’d pay double rent if she could move in the next day.
It didn’t take long before you put it together that her family was both rich and dysfunctional; Hela had expensive taste and enjoyed pairing Saturday nights with a glass of imported red and scathing complaints about her parents, but she was always careful to keep her grievances vague.
Over time, Hela disclosed small tidbits about her personal life: you’d learned that Hela’s father was also a lawyer, her mother was an heiress who’d defied her family’s wishes by going to medical school but landed back in their good graces with her marriage to Hela’s father, and Thor had passed the bar but…here Hela’s vagueness always turned into a biting storm of passive aggressive remarks that never quite told you anything about what Thor did or didn’t do, and so you weren’t really sure what the amicable blond man made his living on.
Hela had never, as far as you could recall, mentioned Loki by name, and he didn’t feature in any of her rants.
You never had managed to glean why Hela, whose professional success and inherited wealth suggested that she could have bought the entire building if she felt so inclined, had opted instead to share an apartment with a random stranger in an area otherwise populated by graduate students with Stark grant funding and young professionals trying to get to where Hela was. A late-night, incognito-mode search of the internet hadn’t offered any further enlightenment on either subject, and you weren’t brave (or stupid) enough to broach the question when Hela was entirely sober.
As mortified and curious as you were about Hela’s youngest brother, your bed was still very, very comfortable, and so you drifted away into sleep rather quickly, although you dreamt of chasing after a food truck whilst brandishing a silver baseball bat, and a tall, mysterious figure in a black suit whose face was obscured by inky tendrils of mist.