Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Just because there is a bloody pandemic in the rest of the world doesn’t mean it will affect me. Now, if you’ll excuse me-”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Fury shouts and leans with his hands on the metallic table.

“But it doesn’t affect me,” Loki pouts. How fair is this, for him to stay locked up somewhere with someone he doesn’t even know, just because there is a mortal fear of getting infected with something named COVID-19, that he surely won’t pick up along the way. He’s above this mortals, he’s convinced of it, and their own stupidity is chasing after him, only because he’s got to be stuck on Midgard till his punishment is over (of course, it’s important to mention that Loki didn’t like any of trial consequences he’d suffered through, one of them including a year spent on Earth). So far, he was doing great; okay, maybe ‘great’ isn’t a word somebody would use to describe the god’s feelings and state, which was often frantic about silliest little things he found himself unwilling to do, but yet somehow forced (just Hulk’s name would be alone enough for him to contrite). And now, five more months to go, he was informed of S.H.I.E.L.D’s decision to pair him up with someone in one of the company’s apartments intended for their workers.

And his grave fear might be staying with anyone out of six members of the Avengers.

“How do you know? You think I find this shit funny? I have to keep away all my workers for two to four months and maybe even longer because no one know what’s gonna happen.”

“And who I’m supposed to be with for those two to four, maybe even longer months?”

“If you misbehave and turn a blind eye to my orders, I might reconsider Hill’s suggestion of putting you up with Dr. Banner. His other side’s gonna like it, don’t doubt,” Fury gives away a small, bad bitch smirk, to show Loki how he’s not one percent repulsed about making his life here even more nightmarish.

Loki can only gulp visibly. “That… I would not recommend.”

“Then you’ve got to listen,” Fury puts a point to it. “And if your majesty allows it,” (Fury didn’t give a damn if Loki allows it or not), “I’d like to introduce you to our agent Martin. Call the agent in,” he says in his earpiece.

Loki’s a bit stunned. They’ll join him up with a guy? I mean, he’s got nothing against mortal guys, only that… They are mostly boring. Or too much into sports. (He doesn’t want to spend his quarantine days – if he’s already got to spend them – with some guy who would be more suitable for Thor. But it came to his mind that many of people here already dismissed him as ‘prone to stereotypes’, ‘big ego problem’, ‘random pitches of emotions that go fly somewhere through the window’ etc. No, he’s really not liked here). Not to mention that Midgardian men are usually very untidy and disorganized. He cannot spend months living in untidy and disorganized terms.

“Here, agent Martin at your service,” Fury interrupts his thought process. If he had a spear, he’d kill him, for sure. Or at least knock him into unconscious. “You have five minutes to meet. In the meantime, I’ll tell them to start the preparations. You two are about to be transferred today.”

So agent Martin is actually a girl. Loki doesn’t know which is worse.

Maybe he needs to be alone, all by himself, like that popular song suggests (and which, weirdly, everyone around here loves).

“Wait,” he says and leans forward. “I remember you.”

The girl smiles. “Is that your way of telling me you don’t wanna bother with knowing my name or?”

“No, what I truly mean is that I remember you from somewhere.”

“Well, then it must be from somewhere around here,” she states. “I never leave this place.”

“Never?”

“Basically never," she responds. “And my name is Freyja Martin.”

His face drains from colour. “I don’t like that name.”

“Pfft,” she exclaims unsettled. “That’s amazingly not nice. And I am amazingly not surprised. You don’t like anything here. Or anyone.”

“That’s not entirely true-”

“Or people’s names. Wow, I’m sorry. Do you want me to change my name? How about we change yours? I’ll call you Patrick.”

“For gods, no. Just calm down. And sit. Look, here,” he offers her a seat next to him. She gives him one look and sits across the room. He sighs. “Or there.”

She pulls out her badge. Loki's eyes caught on it, she notices. 

"Well then," she starts first, breaking the silence which was not at all uncomfortable. "Wanna start with that part of remembering me? Or why is my name so disliked by you?" 

"I'd rather just clarify the first question," he replies, and the tone of his voice sounds tired. She's heard he's having a hard time here. 

"All right. You probably remember me because you were in the OCNR. And I was there to clear issues with some papers on... my next job. While you were being signed in for the program, you caught my eye." 

Loki smirks confidently. "I caught your eye now, um?" 

"Not like that," she smirks back and moves forward, not breaking eye contact with him. "But everyone's heard of a man crashing the Earth with his two golden horns. It's quite unforgettable performance." 

"A god, not a man. God," he emphasizes. "And what the Hell is OCNR?" 

"Office for the Criminal Naming and Routing," she replies instantly. Loki might come to think she's a damn robot. "There S.H.I.E.L.D sends criminals who are a part of the program which, as you may know it, serves as a redemption deal for the... in your case, gods who temporarily damaged some parts of Earth. You fucked up New York, that's evident. And now you've got to live with us for approximately how much?" 

"One year," he says bitterly.  

"One year it is," she nods. "And that's it. Nothing fancy." 

"And now I'll spend some time with you, as it seems. Do you know anything about that?" 

"I know only that no one was particularly keen on sharing an apartment with you." 

"Why yes, there seem to be problems in communication," Loki says.

"Or you're just so terrifying to other workers I've come in contact with," she gets it back at him.

"And you're not terrified?" 

"No. I just think I'm going to make your life worse." 

"Why'd you say that?" 

"You'll see with time. Which," she looks at her watch, "we don't have enough. We have one minute and 45 seconds left to fill the conversation." 

"And yet we discussed nothing of what is our shared lifestyle going to look like." 

"Ah, technicalities," she waves her hand. "We're going to learn a step by step." 

Loki stares at her, watching her intently. She knows this is just him being equally amused as intrigued. 

"So what do you do for S.H.I.E.L.D?”

“I’m a reverse necromancer,” she replies simply while playing with her badge. 

Loki’s brows furrow. “Isn’t that just killing people?”

She looks right at him. “Ah, technicality.”

Loki smiles. He’s going to love this. Oh boy, is he going to enjoy next few months.

Chapter Text

It's been already few days in since they were transferred to this location. Freyja had to admit, the place looked awesome. Big. Spacious. Equipped with all the modern and best technologies. Loki, however, only cared to look for his room to be, probably waiting to get away as soon as he can. Something was telling him that Freyja is not going to let him breathe so, before she was done with examining and admiring every bit of the apartment and then turning her attention to him, he locked himself in his expected bedroom. And boy, was he not satisfied. 

Walls were gushing red coloured, and Loki thought, rather immediately as he settled his eyes on it, that he'll be discussing this next time he's on video chat with Nick Fury. (Oh, yes, that was the news: they are supposed to answer Fury's call every week - and the days he'll be calling them are scheduled to be 'random' and 'at any time I feel like to call in'. So that probably just means this: Loki has to be under control. And agent Martin is here to accomplish that.) 

Another thing that really, really bothered Loki to an extent was the bed. Although it's a king-size bed (which is a fat plus), the mattress is exceptionally soft and missed (while he prefers medium soft or hard mattress). The first night he slept on it he felt like he's gonna drown in it, or slip deep like in the quicksand (so, a fat minus). 

What else? THOSE WINDOWS. 

Why are there windows that big and wide that they take up entire wall's space? 

Her company was more adaptable, though. It hasn't been a full week, but Loki's already got accustomed to her proneness to sarcasm, extensive usage of swear words (which were sometimes highly imaginative as much as highly questionable), constant roaming around the apartment (she practically squealed of happiness when she found out they have a small balcony aside) etc. But more important is... how is this merrie silly petite person an actual hit woman for S.H.I.E.L.D? Her personality acquires a whole lot of optimism, and Loki doubted there is any murderer left in the realms that is obnoxiously optimistic about anything, especially their future. 

And then he developed a theory which primal centre is an idea of her being a hit woman for him. This, made him laugh at nights. 

“You are cooking?!” she exclaims this morning, after entering the room/kitchen (that's one fun thing here: living room and kitchen are all in one tremendously enormous space, connected with two low stairs and separated through a kitchen counter - also, walls are here the same gushing red. Loki already believes their colour is supposed to remind him of murder. His theory's increasing). 

Loki gives her a look.

“Since we’re going to be stuck together for far longer than I previously imagined, I thought it was about time to start," he says and sways slowly to show off his apron. 

She had to admit this whole idea was impressing. Coming from god of mischief.

“What are we having?” 

“Something called… Italian," he says a bit unsure however, while skimming through the cookbook Italy's Loveliest. 

Oh, he can’t go wrong with that.

Half an hour later, Loki and Freyja sit down to have breakfast Loki had prepared. As a true gentleman (who just needs to boost a bit of his ego) he lets her try the food first. And she happily obliges; she's been starving since she woke up, and Loki did forbid her to disturb his 'cook's private time for creativity in the kitchen'. 

"It’s…”

“Delicious? Extremely well and professionally prepared? Enough to sweep you off your feet? Oh, don’t flatter me.”

“… decent," she looks him in the eyes. 

“I’m going to kill you.”

“In that case, you’ll have some explaining to do after the quarantine is over and they find my dead body," she replies, licking the tip of the fork. 

Food is quite delicious, she has to give him that. He may have only followed the recipe, but boy did he make a tasty and - most importantly - eatable breakfast. 

But she cannot let him win that easily. 

He's glaring at her from his seat. If he wanted, he'd just have to push his hands a bit forward over the table and then... Throw a plate in her face. He'd do that, if he had more courage (he doesn't doubt that she kills people she's assigned to kill just out of pleasure). 

“I hate you.”

“Hate you more," she says and attempts to leave the room with a plate full of food in her hands, only stopping to add some more.

“I need extra samples to decide whether I like it or not.”

“We are alone in this apartment. I might as well kill you in your sleep.”

“I always wanted to die in my sleep," she responds back immediately, and it makes him think about how unnerving she is again. 

She leaves finally.

“What. An. Idiot,” Loki mutters and looks down at his plate. 

He's lost any will to eat. 

Chapter Text

Living with god of mischief couldn't be better, Freyja ought to thought. It's been three weeks, and yet she grew accustomed to seeing him every day. Now it's almost like, if she doesn't catch a single glance of him in the room, where he usually spends most of his time, she becomes concerned that he dared to disobey Fury's instructions. Of course, when he's not to be found in his room, then you know he's doing the cooking, taking into account the fact that he hates to eat any of her food. Not that Freyja's trying to poison him. She's not. It's more based on his unnerving distrust of anyone who works for S.H.I.E.L.D, which she can hardly put as an evidence against him. She might be a murderer for her company, but she definitely provides empathic approach and therefore, she did try to imagine what Loki's feelings towards them all are. 

Loki's been examining her behaviour from afar for quite some time. After the failed first cooking attempt (and by 'fail' he meant 'her inability to prove his superiority in let alone all spheres'), soon enough it's become evident to him that she's only joking with him; and how it should be suspected, he wasn't keen on it for the first couple of weeks. Now, he's started to tolerate it more or less, finding some treacherous bit of tranquility in her presence. (He still hated most of her guts though.) 

Right now, he's been seated in the living room by a giant window (progress for him: he actually learned to like the huge ball of brightness it provided on both sunny and cloudy days). His book in hand, sweet ginger and lemon tea with a spoon of honey and added mint leaves; what could ever go wrong and disturb his free time? 

SLAM!

Oh, right, Freyja's impatience. 

And he could guess about what it is. 

The thing is, a week after they settled into their new home, Freyja got in a little bit of a verbal misunderstanding with a lady living across their apartment. He doesn't know much of it, he'd only heard her complain about the lady's own complaints - a word she always emphasized whenever she was brought up into conversation (they talked a lot these days) - how they were too loud for her own liking. This, Loki deemed to be quite untruthful; they haven't made any noise whatsoever all the time they're here. Still, lady keeps to provoke Freyja's poor nerves almost every day with her claims of them being noisy. Loki doesn't bother with it, though; he's above those mortals anyway. But Freyja's apparently not. 

"Are you sure she's a suitable roommate for someone like me?" he discussed this with Fury once on their weekly video chats. She wasn't called in for that day last week, since it was never Freyja Fury was worried about. Actually, he was more worried Loki's not going to behave. "She's as feisty as Surtur in a bad mood. And he's always in a bad mood." 

"I don't know who that is and I am not interested anyhow," Fury said. "But you're assigned to spent the quarantine with agent Martin. I will not call off my decision. And you know what might happen to you if you keep being more and more annoying as this." 

Loki, however, had overly well placed argument for such thesis (and a threat) formed in his head. "Wouldn't it be risky to have Hulk break out and go on some rampage while the quarantine's still prescribed and the streets are all empty as a desert?" 

"And you don't think I didn't put Dr. Banner somewhere special?" 

Damn gods, is all he could get to cross his mind. 

Coming back to present moment, he sees Freyja march in, face red, hands shaking almost so violently. 

“I prevented a murder today,” is all she says. 

Well, he's got to give her that. She is trying her best not to lose her mind (although he thinks she's already lost it, at least a couple of mentally healthy braincells). 

“Really, darling? How did you do that?” he basically sings out the question. He's entertained. 

“Self-control,” gets a response immediately. 

“That old lady from the apartment across ours?”

“YES.”

"You don't look like somebody full of self-control," he notices and flips a page then puts in a bookmark and places it away. He's probably done with reading for today. 

"Oh, you don't know. Maybe this is me when I'm ready to not throw fires." 

"And how do you look when you are, is what occupies my mind." 

"Trickster god, we both know you're full of shit," she says as she rolls her eyes at him.  

"That!" He jumps slightly and points at her. "That, isn't very polite. And certainly doesn't put a nice shadow on you." 

"Is there ever a nice shadow to exist? How could shadows provide any warmth?" 

She goes on and on, opening the fridge, and doing it too roughly for Loki's liking, while only thing Loki can think of is: how is it even possible for someone like her to say a wise thing like that?

In a moment, she's already by his side, bottle of ice cold mineral water (promised to be hundred percent pure, clean water from Iceland) in her hands, shaking it as loudly and as dangerously as it might be if it had opened up. He's almost in terror at the thought. She, however, quickly takes notice of this; therefore, she decides not to raise more of his agony. 

There's something else she'd like to clear out anyway. And it's not about the lady who's chopping her nerves in thin layers as if she were cutting an onion. 

"I wondered...," she starts. "Well, I still wonder. Why do you hate my name? You're not using it when you're talking to me. Only refer to me as 'darling' which, to be honest, doesn't bother me; but what makes you dislike it so much?" 

Loki's smile vanishes a bit by bit as his mind goes wandering. Wandering to memories of Asgard. "Oh, darling, it isn't quantum physics. I just happen, or happened, to know a certain Freyja; and let me tell you, she isn't a person I hold a great opinion of." 

"Surely, your opinion isn't that scattered about me, is it? What she'd done to you? Is she vile?" 

Now he laughs. "Might say she is. But I haven't seen her in years." 

"Hope you won't." 

He nods. "Hope I won't." 

"Does that mean you'll still have trouble saying my name?" 

"I don't feel like saying it, if you don't mind," he speaks, and there is something hoarse in that tone of his voice, like he's remembering not so well time of his life she knows nothing about. "Don't you like me calling you 'darling', anyways?"

"I don't mind it," she admits and offers him a smile. Thin, but genuine; mischievous, but friendly.

There settles a very nice, permanent-like sense of a feeling they're yet to understand. He doesn't mind her presence at all at the time; she's most likely to represent some parts of him that were once only like hers, so innocent but prone to jokes, tricks and treats. 

He might even, once, in the proper future, consider her a friend. 

"Now, about that old lady-" he slowly begins, shifting in his seat and straightening his posture. As he's ready to pour some of common sense into her silly head, she cuts him off with her yet another fandom reference he never gets. 

"I'll ask Fury to relocate her far, far away. Maybe to another galaxy."

"No, what I wanted to say initially is, you should better watch your temper. And no, you're not asking Fury to relocate the lady away. What are you thinking?" 

"I could easily-"

"Don't even finish that sentence," he points his forefinger in air. The sight reminds her of a strict math teacher in her high school and she suppresses a laugh. "I can help you one way around your little problem." 

"Our little problem. How come she's not driving you nuts?" 

"Your little problem. You're the one who got in the mess in the first place." 

"Whatever, Reindeer Games. What's your plan?" 

"Sight isolation. Sound isolation."

A green light leaves his hands. Suddenly, she feels a lot more of peace and ease. 

She's in awe. 

"Good damn, you're a genius," she speaks bewildered. 

Loki only laughs and waves his head at her. 

She's fun. And oh so childish.

Chapter Text

It’s been almost a whole month after the two of them were forced into this apartment which was, apparently, too small for the god of mischief and, in words of the same mischief god, petite Midgardian.

“Loki?”

“Mm?” he hums, too immersed in the book he’s reading (once again).

“Remember that time when I said I’d love to die in my sleep?”

His heart skipped a beat, he can swear. Yet he doesn’t know why.

“Yes? You don’t want me to strangle you in your sleep, do you?”

“Pfft, no.”

Oh gods, thank you.

“But… you know… what are interesting ways of getting rid of someone?”

“You are not asking me because you want to do something to me now, are you?”

“Of course I’m not, mischief man. I just want to start a conversation that could turn out to be quite educating.”

"How can this be an educational conversation?" 

She flops onto the couch next to him. "Well, for instance, I am a hit woman for S.H.I.E.L.D. You are the dictatorial man who tried to conquer whole Earth and inevitably failed. We both murdered people. We know how to do it; it's in our blood. How about we exchange ideas?" 

There comes delicious silence. 

"Stabbing," he says first.

"Too easy, yet characteristic of you," Freyja adds, all amused. "With your daggers and knives." 

Loki scoffs, then gives her an eye roll. But that only seems to amuse her more. "I like daggers as they're elegant weapons. When your enemy is up close, you might take it as an advantage; weakest spots are always shown when your opponent thinks he's got you figured out." 

"Because he becomes careless," she says. 

Loki nods. "Exactly, darling. Thus he turns aggressive; and when he becomes aggressive in his manners, he becomes careless as well." 

"You're a nasty piece of mastery, I'll tell you that, Reindeer Games." 

"Why, thank you, dear Midgardian." 

They're both smiling at each other after that. There's something in it when two murderers take the discussion in the direction of their own mastered services. Which in their case turns out to be a killing weaponry. 

"All right, next," Freyja's the first to break the eye contact, coughing slightly as to avoid intimacy of growing vulnerable. "Shooting?" 

"You do quite a lot of that, don't you?" 

"Well, S.H.I.E.L.D. is equipped with a lot of weapons and machines, you know," she shrugs. "Stark's given a fair share of his knowledge and use of his advanced techonology as well. Although I've got to admit that I'm really good at getting people's asses kicked. Not in literal manner, obviously." 

He puts his book aside now completely. He didn't want to get indulged in her random instances, but he had to admit (to himself, at least) that she's an interesting speaker. Quite whacked in her head sometimes, it seemed, but interesting nonetheless. When he remembers where he stood his ground almost a month earlier when he had that conversation with Nick Fury, he's content now. And that's what matters, as the world is descending into madness with each day. (He should definitely stop watching news three times a day, he's getting paranoid). 

"Butchery, hanging,... although that's more medieval...," she goes on, immersed into deep thinking.

"Push people into lava..."

"Into lava? How does it even-" Loki stops her ramble, his forehead scrunching a little, as if he cannot comprehend the sole idea of such gruesome technic. And then he stops. He turns to look at her in pure horror. "Have you ever done that?" 

"Done what?"

"Pushed people into lava?" 

"No." 

"Thank gods-" 

"I pushed a person into lava, and that was to save my life. After the said person refused to turn themselves in." 

"So you do murder people for a living?" 

"I told you that on our first meeting, Reindeer Games." 

"No, don't- Uh, doesn't matter. I can't believe you actually do that." 

"What?"

"Murder people." 

"Well, I do. Since the job consists of such unwanted outcomes." 

"How is that unwanted outcome? You either murder people because you have intention to do so or because you're pushed into doing it." 

"And you would've known that the best, now wouldn't you?" she pushes it, and Loki doesn't really like it. 

"You just don't seem like a person for... such job. You're too different kind of a personality." 

"What do you mean?" 

"You're... You're so... You're completely ridiculous person! First we move in together, you start a damn fight with an old grandma from the other building, pushing me to the point where I have to entirely hide whole building from sight and mere existence so you could be happy, and then you start talking about possible ways of murdering other people. Which is funny that, since you're a hit woman, you're asking me for some advices on killing. I've done my killings, don't worry, darling, and I don't regret them. At least not all of them." 

"I didn't expect that. From you," she says quietly. He sees that she's surprised at her own puzzlement. "Such honesty."

"Why? Because I have a reputation of a liar?" Loki asks, quite agitated. Can't somebody for once see him as anything else than a killing machine? 

"Definitely not." 

"Then what is it?" 

"You opened up too quickly to me, Reindeer Games." 

WHAT-

"WHAT-" 

"Wait, wait, wait!" she waves both her hands in front of his face. She's fucked up, he sees it in the panic in her eyes. Suddenly he feels the need to reassure her that he doesn't want to... hurt her? Is that what she expects him to do? "I just... You know, when two people live together, they... They start talking about their... private.... secrets. Yes, that's the word, secrets!"

"I don't think my actions are such a secret, otherwise I wouldn't be here, now would I?" Loki says in a calmer tone. 

"Not what I meant, Reindeer Games," she defends. 

"And what did you mean by it?" 

"I just... There's a time for us to get closer. I mean, for us to talk about stuff. When we know each other better." 

"Oh, you think we will grow to know one another better?" he speaks it gently, making her a bit red in the cheeks. 

"Again. Not what I meant," she coughs a bit, this time to cover the sudden feeling of hot in the room. 

"All right, I'll end your misery," he chuckles, giving in. "People sharing a place, however temporarily, eventually start sharing some bits of their past with other person. And you want me to stop doing that so you wouldn't feel the need to tell me something of yours? Am I right, Midgardian?" 

Freyja only nods, still flushed at the tips of her cheeks. 

His smile reaches his eyes this time. "Don't worry; I'm not too open of a person myself. Which only means that you stir something inside of me. For me to say what I've said." 

No matter how insignificant it can be, thought flashes. Only to not think of me as a villain in your mind. 

He's even surprised himself with this one. It creeps up to him so silently. 

She's the one to break the silence that settles in. 

“Ha, don’t worry as well, I have a few knives up my sleeve.”

“I think you mean cards,” he corrects. 

She pulls out a set of knives from under the couch and flashes a smile. “No, I do not.”

Loki smirks. In the next moment both of them yell in a playful, synchronized voice: “KNIFE PLAY!!”. 

And so the battle around the apartment begins. 

“How about acid?” she asks then, half an hour later when their 'hide and seek with knives' game ended. Loki's already come back to reading his book. With her still by his side. 

“What about acid?”

“How about we push people in the pool of acid? That way we know they’re not going to survive. Nobody survives acid; burns your organs from inside and melts you from outside.”

Loki gives this person in front of him the most confused (and somewhat disgusted) look he’d ever managed to pull off with his facial expressions. He loves (likes!) her company, but isn’t she going a bit too far with this?

“You..,” he cleared his throat, straightening up in his spot. “As Midgardians say, you need to chill. We are not going to actually murder somebody.”

“Then why did you suggest such theme for a discussion?”

“Darling, you were the one to bring it up.”

“Oh,” she lets out when she remembers.

He laughs and turns his attention to his book, swiping a page.

“But you did go along with it," she points her finger at him. Gods wouldn't allow him not to be reminded.

“That, I can’t deny,” he admits amused, not looking up from the book. “But only because I am bored, here. And because I am bored, but here with you, who oddly doesn’t represent such a nuisance, I thought maybe, just maybe, you’d like to share your thoughts. But now I see I was wrong – you’re a total psychopath.”

“Nicely put, considering I can still kick your ass.”

“Oh, shut up, darling. I am not to be tempted to use any of methods we’ve just discussed.”

He'd never do anything to her anyway. 

Chapter Text

Loki comes in her room in the middle of the night and lays down his pillow on the floor, crosses his hands behind his head.

“What is this pandemic?”

“Oh for dear Jesus, Loki, we’ve been in quarantine for a month and a half now. The Hell you don’t know? You’re watching Breaking News three times a day!” (He still didn't break that habit.)

“I’m just asking, darling. It confuses me so,” he calmly replies, clearly unbothered. “And when something confuses me, it as well infuriates me.”

“And do answer the question: why the fuck are you in my room? At 2am?”

“I think I’ll sleep here tonight.”

“You gotta be kidding me,” she mutters under her breath, although not so badly keen on his presence. “Why? Your bed’s not comfy enough any more?”

A small light pause between them after her words, however usual, falls. For a moment she believes he’s fallen asleep, and that maybe she should get some rest, too. No matter the boy sleeping in her room, near her bed, for the first time in her life.

“It’s thunderous outside,” he finally says, letting her know he wasn’t lost in the world of dreams even for a second.

Oh well.

“I thought you’re not afraid of thunders any more,” she says back, only this time softly, without the same tone of voice she used on him a few minutes before.

“I’m not,” he retorts back quickly after that. She’s lucky he didn’t scoff at her statement. “This just makes me…”

He grows silent one more time, and now she’s sure he’s either asleep or regretting his decision to say what he started to say.

“Yes? This just makes you…?” she tries for it. Now that he’s got her full attention, he might as well speak.

“I just think I miss Thor, my brother. I miss his company.”

She doesn’t know what to say now. That was unexpected. Loki growing soft in their household. Loki committing to truth. Or maybe it’s all got to do with nights always being the epitome of saying things that matter, that are true and deep and more meaningful than anything in your life ever, but what you’re afraid of saying in the morning?

“Good night, Loki.”

She says those words with a care, touched by the confession he probably had a hard time contemplating and saying out loud.

“Good night, darling,” is all he says.

Chapter Text

“You’re constantly in the kitchen,” is the first thing she says in the morning.

“I don’t even get a ‘good morning’?” he grins at her, so viciously that she decides to ignore it. Not falling for his trickery games today, honey.

She comes closer to the counter and sniffs the air. Um. Something sweet, fresh and even better, definitely crossed off of Pepper’s breakfast diet table.

“What are you cooking? It smells godlike.”

“Well, you can hardly refer to making a smoothie as a form of cooking,” he speaks through a smile, “But godlike? Is that a way to describe the morning meal?”

“Is there a way for you to say ‘breakfast’ instead of a ‘morning meal’?” she fires shots back.

It’s their way of communication these days. Two of them bickering at each other like an old married couple, although any of them hardly saw one another as a perfect partner for themselves. I mean, there you have an ex-criminal and a S.H.I.E.L.D worker who basically lives her days through constant jokes and sarcasm (which she considers to be her maternal tongue, not English). And there you have a god who’s seen as a bit of stuck-up among the humans.

“Anyway… you’re making a smoothie?”

He nods innocently, almost too enthusiastic.

“Nice… which flavour, may I ask?”

He smiles and waves his head lovingly. She’s so fun sometimes, and he’s in a good mood. “You may ask, darling. Let me see… brown chocolate, two small spoons of vanilla and cocoa, almond milk and yes, it’s sweetened, um, what else? Oh, right; extra spoon of cinnamon because you already decided you want to die from sugar overdose.”

“And it would be a delightful way to die,” she leans over the counter and smacks his fingers lightly. He grins. “I can’t believe you remembered, though.”

“You told me it’s your favourite. So I made it for you.”

“It’s actually my own recipe.”

“That much was evident to me; no one else in their sane mind would drink this much sugar, even for a so called smoothie.”

“I love sugar. Can’t help myself,” she shrugs her shoulders, knowing fully well that she could help herself and her insatiable habits if she only dared to look at medical charts and what doctors are saying. And she knows fully well Loki’s going to call her out on it.

“Wrong. You could help yourself if it weren’t too much of a trouble for you to give up the bad nutrients.”

“Right, right. But, do tell me, why are you making this?”

He looks like his eyes are going to pop out of the eyeballs. She isn’t going to tell him to not make it now, right? “I beg your pardon?”

“What did I do that was so special for you to decide to make me a smoothie? Which you so awfully criticized in the presence of its own maker?”

“This is a ‘thank you’,” he says in a serious voice. Yet it’s somehow gentle, almost insecure. “For the last night.”

The last night.

Her mind goes back to the night before; it was thunderous outside and Loki decided to contemplate the whole pandemic thing all over. When she thought he is not going to go on her nerves any more, he said something that did surprise her. Maybe Loki is making the drink because he’s regretting the fact he told her about his wish?

Or maybe he really isn’t that cold-hearted she’s ever thought him to be.

“Oh,” she manages and quickly looks away, only to meet his eyes once again. “It’s okay, Loki. I understand.”

At the exact time, when the things started to grow and change for them, something clicks. Literally. Loki absently pressed the blender to start mixing the ingredients for a miraculously too sweetened smoothie. Which wouldn’t be so bad (I mean, she’s gonna get her smoothie – who’d say no to that?), if the very same god did remember to put on the blender lid. But, as it goes, he did not.

“AAAAAAARGH!”

“Oh gods I’m – blraghuf.” (That’s a sound of Loki choking at his own medicine – made for someone else. Or better, attempted to be made for someone else. And yes, it’s quite literally.)

“What in the damn world of puppies are you doing?! Turn that shit off!”

Loki did think of turning off the blender. It was the first thing to cross his mind. Unfortunately, when he went for the button, he accidentally got hit with another fresh round of chocolate-mixed-cake that he just slipped and fell down.

“I’m busy at the moment!” he yells from underneath. Truth to be honest, Loki is just scared of getting more chocolate on his outstanding attire.

“Oh well then, fuck you!” and she rapidly turns it off.

“Is it safe to-”

“Yes, it is safe to get out!”

He raises, slowly, from down beneath. One look at her and he saw everything. “Whoa, darling, you look…”

She gives him an intense glare. “Yes, I look like I’ve taken a swim in one of Willy Wonka’s chocolate-themed swimming pools!”

“Remind me to ask you later who you’re talking about.”

“I’ll remind you that we’re the only ones in here. And next time I’m on phone call with Fury, you be sure to know how he’ll be hearing of this! You’re insufferable!”

“It’s not like I did this on purpose.”

“I’d believe it was if you weren’t so coloured in brown chocolate plus vanilla and cocoa plus cinnamon plus almond milk that, yes, is sweetened enough!”

“Good to know your brain’s still working. Because if you lost this silly demeanour of yours, I’d know not what to do till the end of the pandemic.”

“I know what you’re gonna do after we clean ourselves!” she jumps from her seat and marches in direction of her room. “You’re going to bring your sad ass here and help me clean this mess! Otherwise you can say goodbye to… to… to all your favourite things!”

“It’s hard to take that threat seriously if you can’t even name one item for me to be so frightened of losing.”

“LOKIII!”

“Bad things keep happening to me. I must have a bad luck or something.”

“Yeah, Loki… you don’t have a bad luck. The reason bad things happen to you is because you are a dumbass.”

“Oh, how awful of you to treat me this way.”

“Because you’re ‘royalty’? Don’t even get me started.”

“No, because I had attempted to do something nice for you. Although I am not keen on going in people’s rooms, as wrong as it sounds, you’re the only one I have here right now. The only one I can talk to. And I wanted to talk to somebody. And you were the only one there. So I talked to you about how much I miss my brother, which I never address openly to anyone, as I had always thought of my wishes and desires to be unwanted, unheard. But in time I’ve spent on Midgard serving my punishment, I learned that it’s all right to sometimes share my thoughts.”

“That’s… That’s what most of us do. Some of us all the time, some of us sometimes. Some of us.. never.”

“Well, let me give you one advice.”

“I’m not asking for advice-”

“Too bad for you, I’m stuck here with all my thoughts and, as I've said before, you’re the only one I can talk to.”

Freyja sighs, attempting to give in. There's not much choice left for her in this situation.

"Okay, hit me with it."

"Don't be afraid of judgement. Don't be afraid of it around me. I'm the one to read people well, but even I sometimes mistake people for being something they're not. Not often, though, don't get ideas in your head," he smiles, looking at her softly. "Let things go the pace they should go, and don't tend to rely on whether people are going to like you for your secrets or not. I've chosen to be true to myself. You should, too."

“That’s… That’s actually a solid advice.”

“Thank you, darling.”

They go back to their cleaning, working in silence. Both of them are, however, peaceful. Content in the moment they've found themselves in. Their dynamics being settled in, their coexistence working smoothly. They're moving around each other, bodies almost bumping into each other, bodies almost too close. It ends in shy smiles and soft laughter, barely audible bickering. 

“So… this is a ‘thank you’? I should’ve known that’s how it is, living with god of mischief.”

Chapter Text

Soon after the smoothie incident Loki and Freyja fell into their old flatmate shenanigans. Actually, all the shenanigans were induced by her. The newest fixation was not far behind as well. 

“Loki.”

“What is it, darling?”

“If we were to adopt an animal…”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“… which one would you choose?”

“Ah. Why on Earth I get to be stuck with you?”

“I think you’d choose a cat.”

“What? I told you not to think about it.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely a cat guy.”

“Why does everybody think I’m a cat person?”

“Well, aren’t you?”

“… I am. But that’s not the point!”

“And what is the point?”

“The point is that I hate you. You and this ridiculous discussion.”

“Sure. But look – an animal catalogue!” she tosses her mobile phone at him.

“Where did you find those?!”

“Internet, duh. Where else would I get it in this pandemic?”

“Well, don’t I look like someone who knows.”

“Anyway. Which one would you choose?”

“You are not serious about this. We are not getting a cat! Or animal of any other sort!”

“I’m not saying we’ll get a pet. Just, if we were, which one would you choose?”

“If we were getting a pet, who would’ve, after all this pandemic thing is finally over, get to keep said pet at last?”

“We’d fight over custody, of course.”

“Custody? Really?”

“And since I am a woman and a single mother, I’d get all those points and she’d be away with me in no minute!”

“A mother?”

“Yeah, you’d understand, you gave birth.”

“Don’t bring that up,” he practically whines.

“Of course.”

“Don’t push my buttons, Midgardian.”

Seriously, we’re back at that again?

“Oh, I would never.”

Silence again. But he finally started paying attention to the phone and all the pictures of animals on the screen. 

“So… which one?”

She lays her head on his chest while scrolling through the catalogue. He stares at it, investigating the options until one caught his attention. To bring closer the phone, Loki puts his palm over hers and leans it toward his eyes.

Seems like not one out of them notices the little action, or they don’t want to acknowledge it further.

“… A black cat.”

“I fucking knew it!”

Chapter Text

To say that she walked into his room when he least expected it would be understatement. More correctly, and up to date, she practically marched into his room. He only looked a bit puzzled, and very soon, very annoyed.

“I heard a noise and I’m not leaving your side for the rest of the night. Wanna know why? Because I am scared,” is the only explanation she manages to give, no matter how unimaginative.

“It’s hardly anything,” he says, voice hoarse from sleep he’s been woken from.

“I’ll still sleep in here,” she says back, probably too frightened to dare to go back to her own room, no matter the fact they are alone in the apartment. Still, Loki finds it oddly amusing how scared she looks. And something in the pit of his stomach, he cannot explain what, wants to protect her, be her enemies real or imagined.

“I never said you’re not allowed to,” he says peacefully.

“Good. You still owe me for that one night.”

“You’re not going to sleep on the floor, are you?” Loki leans from his bed as he watches her fold her blanket over the wood floor.

“Of course I am,” she says as her head hits the soft pillow. “Where else?”

“I’ll sleep on the floor. You take the bed,” he addresses.

“Oh, no way I’ll let you do that.”

“Why not? You said I still owe you for that night.”

“There is really no need for that. But thank you, it’s quite thoughtful.”

“Well, darling, I’m quite a gentleman.”

“That I’m sure you are.”

“So why decline my offer?”

“I… I have no arguments against that.”

“Okay, so-”

“But I’ll think of some! Just let me think for a bit.”

“For somebody who’s scared of noises in the middle of the night, you’re easily keen to passionately defend your decisions.”

“And I am as equally tired to follow those big words you just said.”

“I’m speaking English, Midgardian.”

“And I’m speaking ‘blargh’ language for all I know.”

“I try to be nice to you, to make it easy for both of us and you’re just being childish most of the time, you know that? Don’t you?”

She’s staring at him.

“Oh please, tell me you do.”

“I just like being this humorous.”

He breaths in deeply.

“I insist. Just lay in my bed and I’ll take the floor. Please. I’m tired and I want to sleep.”

“Will it be comfy for you on the floor though?”

“Not my first time, darling.”

“Oh.”

Why does that hit so hard?

Chapter Text

Waking up a grumpy god in the middle of the already too warm night is never a good idea. Actually, it’s pretty much a specific situation that makes him tempted to use one of those methods they discussed only a some amount of days ago.

What in the name of all gods is she doing awake in this hour?!

As he slides down the hall tiredly, but ready to throw some petty words here and there at her for disturbing his sleep, he hears a cry. All right, all right, it’s not a cry – but definitely a sniffle.

And you can’t sniffle if you haven’t been crying.

Loki steps into the area that connects both living room and a kitchen. There he sees a figure on the couch, slightly crouched down. From a closer distance he can see her fingers picking at the edges of it and, if she weren’t crying, he’d probably shout at her to not waste the furniture.

But it isn’t him who’s first to shout.

Because the figure turns around, all of sudden aware of somebody’s presence behind her back, and screams. Next Loki knows, there’s an object flying towards him. Yet it doesn’t hit his face. Or stomach. No, it lands closely to his private area.

Now he’s the one to scream and curse and yelp out of pain.

“For the love of… What are you doing?!” he grows when she comes closer.

“Shit. Sorry. Fuck. Damn mamma mia. Sorry. I didn’t think it’d be you out there.”

“And who do you expect here other than me? We’re sharing this apartment for eleven weeks now.”

“Yeah, yeah, right. Shit. Sorry. My fault.”

“Of course it’s your-,” he stops his rant in the middle of the sentence (that would turn out to be nothing new or wholesome, then just a big pile of, as she calls it and he learned to call it that way as well, ‘fuckery’ words) he stops himself because he sees the stains on her cheeks.

She blinks and waves her head at him, confused at the look he gives her. It’s only then when she notices what he noticed – and then breaks eye contact.

“Are you all right?” Loki asks with a concern plastered on his face.

“Yeah, it’s just… sometimes I have dreams about… uh, it doesn’t matter. Go to sleep, Loki,” she says and pushes his weight away from her, going back to sit on the same spot on the couch he had just found her sitting on. This time she crosses her hands as well, to show him that there are boundaries she’d like him not to cross over.

But of course, Loki is a god and therefore, with his problematic ego and his gossipy nose, comes to sit down by her side. Not too close, but definitely not too far away.

“Maybe you should talk to somebody about it. Whatever it is, I can see it bothers you a lot,” he says with a genuine care she had never seen him do.

“Do you really want to know? Or is it just you being friendly because you want to go to bed as soon as you can? Plus, because I hurt your crotch and now you’re becoming afraid of me?” she desperately tries for a silly piece of comedy. However, as Loki takes notice of, her bloodshot eyes shadowed with tears don’t correspond easily with an attached faker smile.

“No, I really want to know,” he reassures her and she feels on ease now.

“All right,” she accepts. “Two years ago I was on a mission for S.H.I.E.L.D. I was paired with a newcomer. You should’ve seen her; she’d been so young at that point, I wondered how the company even decided to fill up her papers and let her work for them. But it must be something I didn’t understand myself. So, this girl went with me. It was a dangerous mission. Not the kind where you’d bring somebody else and then embody the role of an instructor. But I went along with what I was said to do, because that’s how I function. S.H.I.E.L.D tells me what to do and I do it. That’s how we work.”

“Sounds equable,” he snorts.

“It does. To put it shortly: the mission didn’t go the way it was supposed to go. Actually, it went terribly wrong. And I had a limited choice of what to do and I… I sent her away. I told her to run to S.H.I.E.L.D and call for back up. But I didn’t truly care about the help. I just wanted her to get wherever she wanted to go safe. And so they got me. The bad guys.”

She waits for him to stop her, to tell her that this is not his story and so he doesn’t care about it, he doesn’t need to. But Loki doesn’t do that. He doesn’t stop her. He waits for her to finish her story if she wants to, and only if she wants to. He’s not important here any more. This is not about him and it’ll never be. And it’s good to know that it doesn’t need to be about him.

“I was… I was physically abused for days, and it’s left me with scars. My body’s full of them; legs, upper hands, neck… my back. I’m a walking map of scars, Loki. And I’m afraid no one’s ever going to love me because of them. I know it’s stupid to believe that, since love shouldn’t be based on physical appearance. But still, it’s… it’s what attracts people to us. How we look. And somebody would just have a spare glance at my back, and they would decide that’s too much issues for them. And I’d be left alone all over again.”

“Darling-”

“But that’s fine, Loki. I mean – that’s something you get for wanting to be an edgy broken girl from the young adult fiction books, I guess,” she attempts a joke, as she feels she’s going into some deeper waters she doesn’t wanna enter.

“So you’re telling me you chose to be broken?”

“Ha. That. It’s not like I thought it would be; like in movies. Brokenness is always shown as something mysterious, intelligent, even beautiful. But I didn’t get that kind. I haven’t got beautiful broken. I’ve got ugly broken.”

“You’re not ugly. If anything, you’re scattered on the skin surface. But not broken. You’re definitely not broken.”

“You were the hero,” Loki says softly, and he’s absolutely convinced about it. There might have been thoughts here and there about her, and he didn’t know where is he standing with the idea of living with her, since he didn’t really know her, but now… Now it’s seems like they were meant to be here at some point of time in history. It feels normal, two of them, together in this stiff room that should use a bit of air at least once (and that’s the first thing he might do in the morning). It’s okay. It’s okay to be here with her. Even if it means that he has to be the one to cover up tears that he doesn’t want her to shed for anyone, let alone herself.

She is better than that.

“You were the hero when you saved the girl,” he repeats, and his voice becomes as soft as it was in the beginning, when he was still a prince with no possible prospects, but yet his heart hadn’t been poisoned with lies and ugly truth.

“I didn’t want to be one. I just… I did what I do best. What I’m trained for. It’s not like I’ve ever been offered a choice. I just became who I am because I had to become that person. That’s all.”

“Don’t push it. Your opinion is not going to interfere with mine; and what I see here is a fighter, not a broken woman.”

She ends up smiling. Finally. Loki would’ve lost his mind if she was not to be put into better mood. The sole fact of not wanting her to be this hurt and sad should’ve meant something to him. But it doesn’t do well to dwell on emotions (whatever they are).

It’s just past midnight and people tend to do things they regret later in the morning.

“Thank you. I really needed that,” she speaks a bit shuffled.

Loki waves his hand as if he were shoving away a fly.

“It’s nothing. I understand how you feel. Exactly how you feel.”

They sit in silence after that for some good amount of time. He’s afraid he said something that could be interpreted the wrong way, as if he were trying to put spotlight over himself or, even worse, open some bad memories he’d rather not enter. He knows a bit of torture and of the abuse.

“You’re not bad yourself, trickster god,” are the words he hears her say. She’s cheerful once again and that’s beautiful.

He laughs shortly before locking eyes with her in the dark.

“What happened to Reindeer Games?”

“Nothing,” she shrugs off. “He just doesn’t suit you. Any more.”

For a moment he contemplates what to say, and decides that, for tonight, he’s done with emotional repulses. Although, he has to admit, at least to himself, that he likes to not be known under such ridiculous name. Heck, he fully supports not be named after a reindeer (personally he’s got nothing against them, but you can’t be a badass if you’re walking around with thorns associated with a forest animal). On the other side, he likes that it’s her who chose not to refer to him in such degrading way.

“Oh, is there another nickname coming my way?” he asks and feels a childish terror backing up his spine.

Now she smiles at him.

“No. I’ll call you Loki. Just that.”

Loki.

“Only by your name.”