Chapter Text

Not a Job For One Person 

Of course there were times that finding lost pets wasn’t exactly a one shapeshifter job. 

Go figure, right? 

Generally, Loki, who was a big fan of those stupid pirate movies they’d watched a few weeks ago, slapped on Jack Sparrow makeup, donned some Band Major jacket that a girl at the resale shop told him was very boho chic, and then practically pranced his torn jeans, scarf wrapped, fedora wearing self to some crowded public place to meet up with an owner and collect fur from the missing pet’s bed, or favorite blanket.

Depending on the owner, he generally either claimed to be a psychic or have access to a bloodhound. Winter had to acknowledge neither was a lie, although Loki almost never went the bloodhound route, at least not to initially get a location. For that he just sprinkled a bit of the fur into his silver ‘scrying’ bowl.

Hell, once he had a general location for the ones who had just run off, eighty percent of the time he just changed into a dog or cat himself and somehow convinced them to follow him out from wherever they were hiding to someplace quiet where Loki could change back into himself. Long scarfs apparently made excellent improvised dog leashes, or cat slings. Of course, the remaining twenty percent of the time were more complicated retrievals. For most of those, Loki just put on his spooky-scary face, beat on a door until the hinges vibrated, and demanded the animal back from whoever had found or snatched it, with only a bit of knife play if the snatcher happened to be a thug of some sort. 

However, there were rare occasions when something more hinky than usual was going on. Those times were when Winter got to dust off his best murder glare, and more importantly, his knives and tac gear. And maybe, underneath it all, his new favorite T-shirt. 

“Please tell me you aren’t wearing that repellent article of clothing.”

Loki apparently had a general disdain for t-shirts in general, and a particular dislike of the ones Winter occasionally picked up from a corner vendor that had phrases on them. The one currently getting his drawers in a wad proclaimed, ‘What doesn’t KILL ME had better start f*cking RUNNING.’”

“Oh stop. You know, it’s going under my body armor.”  

Ignoring Loki grumbling about small mercies, and idiots who advertise their intent, Winter finished kitting himself out. 

“What are we looking at?” he asked a short time later after closing and locking the garage door behind them and climbing into the sedan. 

While it served its purpose, Winter didn’t think that the dark brown jacket they’d picked up from a local resale shop suited the taller man’s graceful form. But no matter how bad it looked, he agreed that Loki’s space alien coat was a bit too strange looking to go unnoticed. 

“I’m not quite sure.” Loki paused, concentrating on settling his knives in various areas of the leather jacket, eventually continuing once they were arranged to his satisfaction. “However, unless dog snatching on this realm is far more dangerous than I envisioned, there are far too many heavily armed men in the building where the dog is currently being kept. And, honestly, far too many dogs.”

Huh.

An errant memory tugged at Winter. Hadn’t there been… 

“You know, I seem to recall that there were dognapping gangs, even back in my day. So it is possible that your rich old lady's dog had gotten snagged by a ring of professional crooks. They would trade dogs with gangs in other states so they could be resold in locations far from where they'd been stolen.”

Considering this a moment, Loki conceded, “Well, I suppose that might account for all the weapons I saw. There being no honor among thieves, they possibly would need all of that to protect themselves during a transfer.” Loki fiddled another moment with his makeshift weapon placement before finally settling down for the short ride to their destination.

“Sucks that you don’t get voice anymore.” Glancing over, Winter saw a sour expression fix itself upon Loki’s face. He had numerous times had to listen to the guy rant about how badly he hated ‘scrying’ like a common hedge witch, because like them, he was currently limited to mere sight alone. Apparently being able to eavesdrop in addition to Peeping Tom’ing took a different kind of magic, one that was potentially traceable, if he wanted to augment his magic water bowl for sound. 

“Indeed. Were it possible to use my other powers I assure you I would be listening in on corporate board meetings to get investment tips,” he almost growled, “and not sussing out the location of lost or stolen Midgardian mongrels.” 

Which, Winter knew was probably true, but there was nothing they could do anything about right now, so he put the car into drive and headed towards their destination.  

OoooO

Roper’s Diesel Repair was emblazoned in faded lettering across the dilapidated three story building. There were various cars and trucks parked in the small parking lot in front of the building, but all the bay doors were padlocked shut, and a tattered sign declaring that the business was closed hung inside the main door’s dusty window. Not that Winter believed for an instance that there was no one inside. Or that they were going to have a problem getting inside themselves. 

He suppressed a sigh. Taking out low level dog napping punks wasn’t even going to cause him to break a sweat. However, the prep work to remain unidentified for this and whatever was going on in the upper levels was a complete pain in his ass. He didn’t mind so much putting on the black balaclava, but he would be ecstatic if he never again had to do the raccoon eye thing. And not only because borrowing black eye makeup from Loki was just weird.

Opaque Smokey Eye Onyx Midnight Zero eye shadow. 

Yeah. That shit. 

Suppressing a deep sigh, Winter dug his flesh hand into the thigh pocket on his pants, fumbled his way past a few packs of makeup removal pads for later, opened up a small plastic bag and then reached in and crushed the thin metal pot he’d previously pried out of its plastic compact, tossing the metal bits out of the car window. And no, he did not need to have Loki critiquing his makeup application skills. Mainly, because he didn’t have any. Close eyes, scrub hand across one eye, then the other with an additional smear across the bridge of his nose and wiping the excess off on the side of his pants before putting on his hood and making sure the attached nose and mouth covering were adjusted so it wouldn’t ride up. 

Ready, he glanced over to let Loki know he was good to go, only to receive the most judgmental look he’d ever received from another human being… Including a few patrol guards that used to work the East German border back in the day. 

Since he was used to far worse than a judgmental look, and he’d already informed Loki that there was no way he was using makeup brushes, Winter just shrugged, and wordlessly indicated to Loki that he was ready to move. 

Locked doors didn't mean a lot to a shapeshifter, particularly not when Winter could see a couple of broken windows on the second and third floor, so he didn’t figure Loki would have much of a problem getting them into the building… Not that he couldn’t also have done so, few door knobs could withstand his left hand. 

Loki, however, did not as expected take to the air, but rather went downwards. Winter waited, involuntary shudder rigorously suppressed, as a copperhead snake twined around his one boot wound its way up Winter’s leg and across his chest before slithering out the sedan’s still open window and dropping to the pavement. In less than two minutes, the snake crossed the street and disappeared under the building’s large rolling door, no doubt via a missing section of weather seal. It was only a moment later when his enhanced hearing heard the soft click of a deadbolt being unlatched. By the time he had made it across the street, the newly oiled door opened just far enough for him to slide into the building. 

Winter, yet again, felt the tiny pang of jealousy that he didn’t have an alien space pocket. Without using his own magic, Loki might only have access to one small interdimensional pocket, but it was big enough for a few essentials, like this evening’s tiny can of oil. 

Upon entering the building, Winter’s enhanced senses were immediately assailed by the sounds and smells of distressed animals. 

Lots and lots of distressed animals.  

Mapping out the open doorways branching off the small entry area, Winter heard the soft click of the door behind him closing before suppressing a shudder at having someone standing behind him. A barely audible voice whispered directly in his ear, “Remember, our mission isn’t to kill anyone. We want no complications that would prevent us from turning these miscreants in for whatever reward may be available. However, we take no risks. Not with your safety or mine.” 

Nodding, Winter gladly slid past the doorway leading to where the stolen dogs were being held, and cautiously approached the center doorway, where a television was turned up loud enough to be heard over the constant background of unhappy animals. Readying one of his knives, he flattened himself against the wall beside the door, as Loki, shifted into an absolutely gorgeous black Samoyed crawled past him on his belly. Head pressed against the floor, he peered through the door for a moment, before wiggling back and pawing Winter’s leg four times, while looking expectantly up at him. 

Winter made a rolling ‘ Yes, of course I am ready’ motion with his knife.    

Loki padded back several paces, nodded at him in a manner that Winter would have found incredibly disturbing if he’d been dealing with a real dog, and then, with a howl worthy of an entire Siberian Wolf pack, charged into the room the four men were watching television in. 

Pandemonium ensued. 

OoooO

While Loki would not say he lived for moments like this, he did enjoy them immensely. Four sets of wide eyes turned to him as he raced into the room. 

“Holy shit, one of the dogs got out! Which one of you assholes forgot to latch a cage?!”

Dashing through the legs of a rat-faced man who’d spun around and tried to grab him, Loki managed to get them all focused on the area furthest from the door. And not focused on the lean, graceful warrior gliding into the room, slipping a metal arm around the rat-faced’s throat as a gloved hand covered the man’s mouth. With absolutely no wasted movement, and completely unnoticed by the man’s companions, Winter hauled rat face a few feet away from the commotion, and knocked him out. He then stashed him pretty much out of sight behind a large overstuffed chair, that like everything else in the room, except for the entertainment screen, had certainly seen better days. 

Other than his makeup techniques, Loki would be the first to say that there was nothing slapdash about the way Winter dispatched the next two. Admittedly, Loki barking as loud as he could, weaving up, over, and around the furniture and tripping them up by dodging through their legs helped, but still. 

The last man, realizing that his companions were no longer assisting him in trying to capture their ‘stray’, turned to see what the problem was and positively yelped as he finally noticed the warrior in the room. And then he yelped again as fifty pounds of dog springboarded off an overturned chair and onto his back, knocking him flat on his face.   

The caged dogs in the next room were, if anything, making even more noise now.  

Which was no doubt why Winter had no sooner finished trussing and gagging everyone with a heavy gray tape, when a door slammed open and an angry voice yelled down the stairs, “Oh, for Christ’s sake! Will you guys shut those fucking dogs up!” 

Winter tucked the tape back into a side pocket, slid over to the doorway, and then nodded his readiness. 

Tail wagging, despite himself, Loki winked at Winter before barreling up the stairs at full speed, dashing between yet another set of legs.

There ended up being five people upstairs. And they posed no more problem for Loki to distract than the four he and Winter had already vanquished. 

After Winter had taped blindfolds, gags, and appendages, Loki had transformed back into himself and asked those still conscious a few leading questions. He learned not only the location of some cash they had hidden, numerous collaborating details to use when turning them in to crime stoppers, but also the names of some people who might turn out to be helpful contacts in the future. 

Hel, they’d recovered not just the dog he’d been originally hunting for, but several other expensive dogs that might also net them rewards. Winter scored some cash he could use to buy them a few more creature comforts, and Loki had gained a lot of interesting, possibly very lucrative information to mull over. Best of all, at least in his private opinion, Loki had experienced yet another opportunity to admire his companion in action.

All in all, he would have to say that it had turned out to be a lucrative and vastly entertaining day’s work. 

OoooO

A month later, the abandoned Brooklyn power plant he and Loki had claimed for their own was no longer piled high with trash. Prior to their ‘liberating’ a bunch of loose cash during the dog rescue thingy, they hadn’t had the funds to do much more than weatherproof the place. After patching and sealing the roof, more or less, Loki and Winter had replaced broken window panes with plexiglass, or boarded up entire openings for those windows where the metal frames were missing altogether. A repair that Loki’s ability to change into various birds and chimps had helped with, particularly in getting ropes over the roof supports so they could climb up and reach the more inaccessible windows. 

That pretty much being all they’d previously had funds for without tapping into their legitimately earned money. Those funds were in a bank helping to establish a credit history and were never spent on anything as frivolous as creature comforts.

However, back when they had first met, Loki had mixed up a scar removal cream, rune enhanced, that worked like magic. 

Go figure, right?

And Winter knew that they could make them a fortune selling it if he could just convince Loki that it could be sold in a legit way.

“Look,” Winter demanded, pointing to the several tabs open on his laptop, “This dame makes a beauty cream based off something she found in her grandma’s old recipe book.” He opened up the next tab, “This guy claims his beauty cream made with organic mango and rare herbs makes skin glow. As long as we don’t claim any specific medical properties, or use any substances that aren’t already FDA approved, we have as much right to make and sell skin cream as any putzy broad with a beauty blog.” he turned his attention from the screen to Loki, whose face was scrunched up in distaste. 

“What? I’m telling you it will sell.” 

“Perhaps. It does work, and I have noticed that Midgardians will buy just about anything. However, Winter, I have ideas to build our business empire that will need to be taken seriously. I don’t think that being lumped in with ‘any putzy broad with a blog’ or some ‘new age health nut’ as you refer to them as will help our future credibility.” He then waved a hand to encompass their surroundings. 

“Additionally, after you mentioned this a few weeks ago, I did look into how your idea could be implemented, and while the sanitation rules for small batches of homemade creams and herbal skin scrubs are lax, they aren’t non-existent.”  

Winter was well aware that making a product for sale would require at least minimal improvements to their lair. Of course they could always rent an apartment with a functioning kitchen. And, while renting would be a lower initial outlay of cash, it would be an ongoing expense, and even more importantly, it would have been an ongoing security risk.

So it took a few days to thoroughly hash out the pros and cons of each. 

And arguing. 

Well, yeah. That too. 

Loki was a stubborn bastard, and apparently had no desire to begin his business career as a skin care formulator, something generally regulated to low level hedge witches where he came from. Particularly since he had centuries more experience in potion making than anyone with any Midgardian with a masters degree in chemistry.

“I’m surprised you don’t want me to brew up a batch of potion to cure spots in adolescents.” 

“Well, if you know one that will actually work on lowly mortals, that would make a great follow up product.” 

Loki scowled at him. 

“However,” Winter went on blithely, “I can see that is an argument for another day. So how about we just finish deciding between the remodel or apartment? You know which one I want.” 

“Are you that afraid of living in an unsecure building and having neighbors?” Loki asked, damn well knowing what the answer would be.

That answer being, ‘Damn skippy straight’. As would be the answer of any sane person who was also an internationally wanted assassin, hiding from a deeply entrenched secret organization. Not that Winter could exactly claim to be sane, per se.  

They decided on the remodel, as Winter knew they would. Security, and he suspected his pouting, trumping the initial cost savings of an apartment. 

It took a few weeks, but they finally found a shady contractor who demanded cash for his crew at the end of each day, but who did decent work, didn’t ask too many questions, wasn’t worried about permits, and had a crew that was as closed-mouthed as he was. And, apparently more importantly, he was vetted by Mrs. Glasswincski. 

She being the little old lady who’d retired from NYC’s Office of the City Registry. The same one that Loki had paid to advise him on what documents to plant in the property records office archives, so they could basically steal the title to their building. Mrs. Glasswincski was also seemingly in line to be the head of his coffee shop babushka advisory cabinet. 

However, there was no denying she was right about the guy. Him and his crew were the perfect solution. They got building improvements with no paper trail, and since they wanted cash, they could be paid with ‘unaccountable’ money (ie. stolen from crooks), that couldn’t legitimately be used to start their business anyway.  

Tyrone and his crew had turned the second floor, or as the guy insisted on calling it, the office mezzanine area, into a fairly comfortable if rudimentary efficiency apartment that included their icebox, and a small stainless sink/counter thing that they could set a camping stove on. The adjoining office was a much more finished area, but was basically a rudimentary lab that could be used as a clean room for Loki’s potion making. Neither room was fancy, but they were vastly more comfortable than what they’d previously had.

Tyrone wasn’t touching an illegal electrical tap-in, but he did add lines going up to the solar panels they already had on the roof, and as a bonus wired in a few batteries for use in the evenings. Not that Winter hadn’t enjoyed taking the laptop and the phones up four flights of steps to the little shelter they’d cobbled together to protect their electronics while they charged. Or them having to finish the movie du jour on one of the phones because laptop battery capacity just sucked, and life as we know it would come to an end if Loki had to wait until the next day to finish watching whatever series he was currently viewing for the cultural context it would give him. 

Water was a lot easier to tap into clandestinely, which is why each of the rooms could have a sink. However, the only bathroom was still downstairs, tied into the drain they’d been using to piss in since they’d arrived. Thankfully, it had at least been partitioned off from the rest of the factory floor. To save money, they’d made three quarter high walls constructed with leftover building materials from the office area, and when that ran out, some of the pallet wood they’d saved during the clean up. 

The bathroom’s shower might only be an open area with a drain, but at least it and the sink had the same type of hot water on demand heater that the rooms upstairs had. Winter didn’t care if he had to sweep pooling areas of water towards the center floor drain after every shower, or that at night the only light was over the small sink, at least he didn’t have to drive across town to those damn beach showers when he wanted to get cleaned up anymore. And he’d slipped the guy doing the plumbing and electrical a bit of extra cash, so once they were off solar, or could pick up a larger gas generator, he already had the outlets and hookups for a washing machine at least.

“Correct me if I am wrong,” Loki said looking over their (rustically) renovated bathroom, and gesturing towards the capped off water stubs, “but in addition to power, does not a washing machine also require a drain?”

“Yeah, but we can hook up a hose and put it down the shower drain when we use the washer.”

Loki’s eyes tracked the distance the hose would have to run. The bathroom was crappy, but not small.

“And this couldn’t wait until we redo the building properly?”

“Hell, no. Hand washing blue jeans sucks balls, and the laundromats around here are worse.”

Chapter Text

Home is where one can store their knives

Several days after Tyrone and his crew had finished working on the building, Winter was lounging on his new innerspring mattress (Queen sized!) with pillows piled high behind him. More comfortable than he could remember being in basically, forever, he was passing the time scrolling through one of the laptops they’d liberated during the Puppy Pound take down. It seemed that the boss of the upstairs crew was also the older brother of one of the dognapers on the main level. The fact that said leader had compromised his security by allowing his loser brother to draw attention to his operations was not the asshole’s only failing as a crook. 

Unsurprisingly, over half the information on the laptops was unprotected by anything more than a log in password. Completely sloppy. And, unfortunately for him, he’d thought about the encryption code when Loki had asked him for the computer’s passwords. So while Loki filed various crime stopper tips, Winter was gaining valuable insight into the loan sharking and protection racket in their neighborhood. 

Interestingly enough, one of their customers was a jeweler. That would require some thinking. 

Several minutes later, Winter sighed and shut down his laptop, mentally filed his nascent plans for approaching the jeweler, and picked up a notepad and pen for quite a different thought exercise. 

Steve, 

Got your last letter, and I don’t know what to tell ya pal. I told you I was doing okay and would contact you when I finished getting my head straight. So how is it my fault that you’re criss-crossing the country looking for me? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the US is a pretty big damn country. Did you really figure that showing up someplace where I maybe was days ago was going to help? Assuming I was even there days ago?

Remailing is a thing dumb ass, look it up.

So, besides putting unnecessary miles on your bike, and that run in with those two cops who didn’t know who they were trying to shake down on a bogus traffic violation charge, what else have you been up to? I mean, other than winding up the Stark kid?

Also, how could you not have liked Megamind? That movie was great, and also fashion forward. I think MetroMan’s glove and boot design would be a good look for your next costume superhero suit uniform upgrade. As for your question about the Harry Potter movies, I’m not watching them until I have finished all the books. Which is total balls, because a couple of nights ago, for reasons I will not go into, I got stuck watching The Wolf of Wall Street.

I don’t recommend it, unless you are into corruption, fraud and unbridled capitalism. It was horrible.  

Not too much else going on here is exciting. As I said, I’m doing okay, eating well, staying busy, and sleeping good. That might be the high point since I last wrote to you in fact. When I say I am sleeping good, I really mean it. I just got a new mattress and it is like sleeping on a damn cloud. Nothing like those ones we had before the war.

And can we talk about how fucking soft sheets are these days? And comforters? Whoever came up with the comforter was a goddamn genius. A quilt that doesn’t weigh a ton, and keeps you warm like a full body flannel wrapped water bottle? Do people these days even know how good they have it?  

(Okay, so maybe sleeping ‘good’ was a bit of a stretch some nights. Comfortably? Hell yes, but Steve didn’t need to know about the nightmares.) 

I don’t know why I tell you this, when you will just ignore it, but don’t do anything stupid. And for Christ’s sake quit trying to find me by tracking the post marks on my letters. 

Stay safe and stay home,

James

P.s. On the subject of not being stupid you are so wrong, Metamorp shapeshifting seems like a really handy power. You just lack imagination. Maybe all that spandex is restricting the blood flow to your brain?

P.p.s. I can’t remember her name, but Tony Shulley’s cousin visiting from Queens was the girl I got caught kissing under the back stairs of their building.    

P.p.p.s.. Circling back to the subject of your superhero suit. I saw the clips of your latest outing with your little pals. How in the hell do you move in those damn pants without ripping the back of them out? And why in the hell do the Fox News camera operators focus on your ass so much? You should talk to them about that. Hahaha!

While there wasn’t much by way of content in his letters, at least not compared to the multi-page ones Rogers sent him, Winter figured his were as good as anyone could expect them to be. Despite the healing powers of time and Loki’s potions, he just didn’t have it in him to go on a multi-page remembrance of the good ol’ days like Steve did. Of course part of that reluctance might be from the fact that his memories from before the war were more like something he’d watched in a movie, rather than something he’d actually lived. Dipping into them to dredge up some trivia to let Rogers know it was actually him writing the letters? That he could do. A leisurely saunter down memory lane? 

Pass.

OoooO

Two weeks after the contractors had finished, Winter found himself leaning against the passenger side of the LTD waiting for the owner of Jessup’s Jewelry to finish packing the case of pure silver pill boxes that he’d ordered. Loki was sitting on the passenger side with the window open, going over a list of ingredients they would need to purchase for a bulk batch of his rune scar removal salve. The sale of which Winter was positive would turn them a hefty profit that could contribute to Loki’s planned business empire. 

As they waited, the wind barreling down the street had debris swirling everywhere, around Winter’s boots, and even occasionally tossing trash against the windshield of the car, causing Loki to make disapproving clucking noises every time it happened.

“You know,” Winter said, lifting his foot to let the crumpled potato chip bag continue on its way, “It would be a lot easier to clean up this neighborhood if you just took it over. It wouldn’t be that hard, what with us being us, and all the information on those laptops we took.”

Loki looked up from his phone, shooting Winter an irritated glance. This had been an ongoing source of disagreement between them for the last few days. 

“Oh, yes.” Loki said in a tone that was anything but agreeable. “Let us conquer several lengths of this city and claim it as our own. I am sure that would incite no comment from the authorities at all.” He taped a few more keys and then put his phone away, apparently to devote his full attention to glaring at Winter. Who just shrugged, not the least bit discomposed. Glares, without a correction chair anywhere in the general vicinity, had no power to phase him. Not even Loki’s. 

“Didn’t you tell me when we first met, that you were a benevolent god? Can't you just be a benevolent mob boss?”

“Are there such creatures?”

Winter shrugged, “Who knows.” Then shooting a hard glance at Loki, he added, “And really who cares. If nothing else, you can be the first, right?” 

OoooO

Despite their herculean efforts, and all the work that Tyrone’s guys had done, their  building still looked like shit. Granted, it now at least had windows keeping out birds, wind and rain, which was nice. As was a watertight roof. And it was definitely better than it had been now that all of the death traps had been covered, and the mountains of loose debris inside had been removed. But there was still a lot that needed done. 

Which was why Winter had tapped into the plumbing and routed several rough runs so they could have water in different parts of the building. Admittedly his modifications were as hinkey as all get out, what with being just roughly tacked to the walls, with a few supports when needed, but at least he could now wash an area down without having to have a two hundred feet of hose cobbled together, and leaking all over the place.  

He was on an upper level mentally composing another letter in reply to Rogers’ latest letter, who, it turned out, had quite strong opinions about the Fox News ass shots. And using one of his recently installed faucets, and a power wand to deal with a particularly filthy set of steel beams, when Loki literally blew through the doors. Even from halfway across the building, and two floors up Winter could see the guy was livid. 

Winter immediately shut down the power washer, turned off the water, and headed down to find out why, swinging off various beams and rails to take the most direct route. 

“Problem?” He asked, landing with a thud that had dust rising up to his knees. 

“I have considered the suggestion you made last month. However, since you made it in jest, I need to ask how you honestly feel about becoming a mobster .”

“Will there be any cryotanks involved?”

“I shouldn’t think so. My studies lead me to believe the term putting people on ice has a different meaning to your average New Yorker.”

“Okay, what about that, would I be expected to ‘ice’ people? I mean more than I already have?”

“Well, not if you don’t want to. I am capable of taking care of problems on my own. But there no doubt will be some final solutions required. As we both know there are quite a few people who indeed merit, if not death, then at least a severe wound or two just to make them change their ways.”

“So, no innocent people? Because, honestly, I am not up for killing or even threatening innocent people, not even if they don’t fall in line.

“Of course not innocent people. Why would we want to reduce the population of our domain--”

“Territory, Loki. Mobsters have territory.”

OoooO

Three evenings later, having earlier in the day picked up a rush job from a local sign shop, Winter slid into the just closing Grinder’s Mean Bean Coffee Shop, for the (hopefully) inaugural meeting of the North Sunset Park Better Days Association.

The group included the owners of Tubman’s Herbs, the Weatherwax Metaphysical Boutique, and the recently robbed Wycoff’s Pharmacy, all of which had signed up to host a Beautiful You  Crème Clinic once a month, and none of which Loki wanted targeted by low-life scum, hence his bad mood the other day. (The fourth week of the month Loki was currently reserving for trips and projects.) There were also twenty-four other local business owners. Heading up the event was Mrs. Tedesco, a member of Loki’s little old ladies group, who as a retired high school office lady, was apparently an old pro at organizing meetings. 

While she handed out agendas, pens and notepads, Loki, who as Logan North seated himself at the head of the table. And, in a minor miracle, Loki was not currently dressed in one of his weird outfits, but rather wearing black dress slacks, a matching vest, and a crisp white shirt and charcoal gray tie. 

“I would like to thank you all for taking time out of your busy schedules to attend this meeting,” Loki said, sounding so much like a polished politician, and not the least bit like the crazy person that Winter knew him to be. “And I would especially like to thank Mrs. Tedesco for all her assistance in bringing us all together, and of course to Ms Johnson, for allowing us to hold our meeting in her lovely coffee shop.”

Standing behind Loki, and holding his hands in a Hydra trainer approved waist-level neutral "stance", Winter wore his normal jeans, biker boots and yet another t-shirt that Loki hated. This one was black and had, ‘Wow, that’s a terrible idea. What time do we start? ’ printed on it in white. Not that anyone could see it, hidden as it was under his jacket. A jacket that only took five minutes in the building to make Winter hate his life. Despite his love for t-shirts with weird sayings, he really should have remembered to change into one of his solid colored henleys, because it was way too warm in the café to be wearing a jacket, let alone a zipped up one. 

However, too warm or not, the damn jacket was going to stay zipped. There were a lot of things Winter was willing to chance, but a miffed off, t-shirt-with-slogan hating, six foot plus, snuggle buddy, who from his childhood tales held grudges, shapeshifting from cat (or human) into a rhinoceros while Winter slept, was not one of them. 

For the record, the next time Winter had cash to burn he was buying himself a couple lightweight button ups to cover up his t-shirts while out in public. He briefly considered the aggravation value of those Hawaiian shirts, but he knew he could never make himself wear one. Not even to piss Loki off. 

Also for the record, Winter deeply regretted that he ever confirmed that Loki could indeed shift into a rhinoceros if he chose to. Or for that matter, that he’d ever even brought rhinoceroses up, period. 

Despite having way more internal conversations with himself than a sane person probably would, and sweating like a pig, he did keep scanning the room for threats. He was, after all, a highly trained assassin/bodyguard. 

“So, you’re telling us,” the old man who ran the corner bodega said, “that instead of paying the protection money we used to give to Santos, you want us to instead put that money towards general improvement projects, that we get to vote on and choose. And in exchange for us funding those projects, you’re going to give us protection and make sure no other gang or mob member gives us any trouble?” He looked both pained and puzzled.

After a quick glance around to confirm that the other business owners shared his confusion, he said “Son, I don’t wanna tell you how to run your business, but seeing as you don’t sound like you’re from around here, I just wanna ask... Are you sure you know how a protection racket is run?” 

His clearly questioning glance shifted from Loki up to Winter, as did that of pretty much everyone else in the room. 

After a long moment, Loki turned and followed suit. “What do they think I am missing?” he asked, pretty much the picture of confused innocence, at least for those not close enough to see the gleam in his eyes. Winter shrugged, more for the audience they had, than any real confusion. He was by now well aware that Loki was a troll. 

“Generally, the people they pay to be protected from, work for the person who is collecting the money. They pay him, he doesn’t unleash his goons on them.”

“Truely?”

Winter nodded.

Loki then turned his attention back to the business owners, only to have them also nod in agreement.

“Which isn’t to say they don’t discourage others.” Winter added, again to the general agreement of the room at large. “But honestly, how well they do at keeping random punks away varies quite a bit.”  

“Ah. Well, that is not how the North Sunset Park Better Days Association is going to work.” Loki reached into the package that Winter had set on the desk, and pulled out a brightly colored, oval plaque about the size of a man’s palm with the Associations name emblazoned upon it. Handing it to Mrs. Tedesco to pass around to those who wanted to look at it.

“What happens if a member doesn’t deposit their monthly payment money in the Associations account?” Bodega guy asked, glancing at the plaque he’d been handed, before handing it to the couple who ran Tubman’s Herbs. “And how would we know who was slacking?”  

“Mrs. Tedesco,” Loki replied, tossing a warm smile in her direction, “has graciously agreed to volunteer as the associations secretary, and to set up elections eight weeks from now for the other officers, will be keeping track and notify the associations officers if someone doesn’t pay their dues on time.”

Then, in one of the shifts that Winter swears Loki did just to get people to underestimate him, Loki held up his hand while practically chirping, “If you read the agreement, you will note that there are a few, uh, provisos--” he made a big show of ticking things off his fingers, “An nnnn d a couple of quid pro quos.”

Everyone in the room again gave Loki their best, ‘ what the fuck ’ look. 

Winter just internally questioned why he was sharing a bed with this asshole. Granted  Loki was a cat ninety-five percent of the time, but still.   

“Yeah, sorry about that.” He said, “We watched Disney’s Aladdin last night. The one with Robin Williams doing the voice.” 

Now Winter was the recipient of their ‘What The Fuck’ looks. 

“Look, just read the agreement. Trust me, not only does it detail the provisos, but it also lays out in more detail than any sane person would ever think possible the necessary quid pro quos.”

“Winter, any agreement worth making--”

“Yeah, yeah. Loophole proof.” He turned to the bodega guy, “Don’t even think you can find one that isn’t already addressed. I’m telling you, you won’t. Plus, in addition to losing your plaque, the penalties for deviating from the agreement without prior approval within the group are imaginative. And that’s me, putting it mildly.”   

Loki, sitting at the head of the table, beamed beatifically at one and all, Mrs. Tedesco walked the group through the proposal, and Winter murder stared at anyone who dared to express a doubt that the local criminal element might be too much for them to handle.  

Two hours later they had twenty people sign on.

Forty-eight hours after that, Mrs Tedesco gave Loki the list of businesses that had paid their first quarter dues and needed plaques installed. 

OoooO

Anyone who thought that the North Sunset Park Better Days Association protection plaques (uniquely numbered) were mere garishly colored enameled aluminum didn’t reckon with the flamboyantly dressed Logan North. Prior to being given to the sign shop for enameling, every single blank had been die stamped by Winter with more runes that he had ever before seen in one place. 

Winter did wonder exactly what kind of deal Loki had worked with that old die cutter to get him to not only make a master die, but also provide them with an old hydraulic press. But as the guy was semi-retired, older than dirt, and wheezed like a broken accordion, he could make a pretty good guess. 

Once Loki had activated the runes with his words of power, or breathing life into them, or whatever bullshit he did, it was Winter’s job to shepherd them through the rest of the process. Mainly that consisted of making sure they weren’t scratched by rough handling during the degreasing, and not letting anyone near them with a camera until the runes were covered with the first coat of enamel. As soon as they came out of the first bake, he left the shop; counting of course on the fact that he’d spent the first day scaring the piss out of all the workers there, to ensure that all were returned.  

The plaques might have looked ugly but those people signing up for the association were getting a lot more of a deal than they knew. Not only did they prevent anyone with evil intent from entering a protected establishment, they couldn’t damage it either. Which might eventually mean a bit less work for the local glass installers and graffiti removers. Not that Winter has seen too many people doing graffiti removal in this part of town. Still, spiffing up their property was required by the association's bylaws, so some graffiti was going to have to be removed soon. 

“Installing these things sucks.” Winter groused, handing the small tool bag to Loki to carry and shouldering the short ladder they’d used for the higher up installations. 

“Mrs. Glasswincski knows a few people with flexible schedules looking for part time work,” Loki replied soothingly as they headed back to the sedan. We’ll see if she can’t set up a few of them to take over in a week or so.” 

Whatever. 

It wasn’t like installing the plaques was hard, because it honestly wasn’t. Hell, sometimes the hardest part was finding a spot for them on the more crowded store fronts. But the gawkers made his skin crawl.There was no way that he was ever going to be comfortable turning his back on a crowd. Not even if most of them were kids. Still, however much he disliked screwing the damn things up, they were done for the day. So Winter was very much looking forward to going back home and making himself a footlong hoagie with at least a pound of lunch meat, several slices of cheese, mayo, and maybe some sliced tomatoes. Oh, and a frosty mug of coca-cola. 

What he was not looking forward to was dealing with the half a dozen thugs they found draped across their car. One of them busily carving something into the trunk lid with a knife. 

Chapter Text

Seriously? 

Not only was scratching stuff into the paint job of a car rough on the blade, but it was also a major jerk move. Winter hoped for the knife wielder’s sake, that they had enough money on them for a replacement paint job. Otherwise things might get ugly. 

Loki, dropping the tool bag, spun around on his heel and took off.

Or rather more ugly.

Winter shook his head in disgust as the thugs spread out and approached him.    

The oldest one, their apparent leader, said with a nasty smile, “Your partner ran off and left you.” 

“Yeah he does that a lot. He's not really much of a fighter,” Winter lied. Knowing that somewhere behind a dumpster Loki was turning into something with long teeth and a howl that was soul shredding. Tightening his grip on the ladder he said, “You know, we don’t have to do this the hard way.”

Smiley said, “Oh, Wanksta, just because a crew got taken out, doesn’t mean this area is up for grabs. Trust me, this is the easy way. You definitely don’t want the higher ups involved.”

One of the punks lunged, and immediately found out that you really can’t get too close to a guy carrying an eight foot ladder. He managed to catch two more by spinning in an arc so as not to lose any momentum. One more spin after that and he launched the ladder towards the group in the rear, clipping Smiley, but sadly missing the more nimble punk who dropped to the ground and let the ladder fly over him. 

None of them were dead of course, because… bystanders. But the ladder he’d thrown had given him a moment to palm two of his knives and quick a quick flick of both hands, bury them into the thigh and shoulder respectively at the last two heading his way. 

Skipping forward with a speed that clearly surprised both men, he knocked one of their guns away with a quick backswing with his left arm and then grabbed the other one's outstretched arm twisted until he dropped his pistol, and used their momentum to tossing him to sprawl several feet back the way he had come from. Only to get a slice across his upper thigh from the punk he'd previously unarmed. Since that guy had been aiming to hamstring Winter, he earned a back hand from his metal arm, this one a lot harder than the first had been. Still the guy could count himself as lucky that Winter was not trying to kill him and the rest of his merry band of idiots. Because if he had, they would have been dead already. And them being dead, would have saved Winter from having to waste knives by burying them into various biceps and shoulders.

Nor would he have had to worry about stopping dead people from doing something stupid that would injury or kill idiot bystanders who didn't have the brains that god gave a duck. 

Yet, that was currently his lot in life. And honestly, he was doing pretty well... Or thought he was doing pretty well, until he looked up from Thug #3, and the broken femur he just caused with a well aimed kick because the asshole did not know when to quit, to find himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

This. This was why leaving people alive was a really bad idea. 

Still, since he wasn’t going to disappear into a freezer after each attack, not killing people was the order of the day. 

Which sucked balls. But it was still better than being iced, he supposed. 

Swinging his arm up to protect his head, trusting his super serum and the numerous protection runes that Loki had inscribed on every single thing he was wearing, Winter rushed toward the asshole that had him in his sights…  

Just as an unholy scream, that in no way came from a human throat, brought him to a screeching halt before he’d even taken a second step. And, had no doubt half deafened everyone within a two block radius.   

Oldest thug slammed to the ground beneath an outraged mass of feathers and slashing talons. 

Giant angry hell birds not being something that normally afflicted the average New Yorker, Winter was pretty sure that Loki had joined the party. 

Late as usual.  

Still, taking advantage of the disturbance caused by Loki's overgrown chicken attack, Winter disarmed and cold-cocked those thugs that were just dazed. Since Oldest Thug was being positively surrounded by slapping wings and talon strikes, he could take the time to frisk his thugs, pulling out their Id and memorizing names and addresses in case they couldn’t catch a clue; and then dropping their wallets beside them. After removing all their ready cash to pay for fixing his car. 

A horn blaring behind him caused a scowling Winter to turn and glare at a delivery driver who was leaning out of his truck window.

“Hey buddy, if you’re done fucking those guys up, could ya do us all a favor and drag ‘em outta the middle of the street? We got places to be ya know, and the fish in my truck ain’t getting any fresher.” 

“….”

Winter was nonplussed. Being asked (by a bystander?!) to clean up after a bout of mayhem was not something he was used to. Still, however unexpected, it was not really an unreasonable request. So he moved the unconscious thugs, if not out of the street, at least into a nearby empty parking spot, kicking their wallets and guns after them. 

And, since he was a nice guy, he also reached down to grab Loki’s thug by the front of his shirt. The guy, who’d been lying in a moaning heap, was covered in shallow, (and some not so shallow) slashes, and being closely watched by Loki, still in giant bird form, who was pacing back and forth on the roof of their car. 

If he hadn’t already been reconciled to the knowledge that the car was going to require a new paint job, Winter would have been upset at the additional scratches that Loki’s shifting talons were inflicting on his ride. 

Thanks, buddy, “ the delivery driver called, throwing his truck into gear. Tooting two quick ‘Thank You’ taps of his horn, his truck rumbled down the street, and traffic resumed. 

Using his free hand, Winter fished what was obviously a burner phone out of the top body on the pile, flipped it open and dialed 911 to report an unprovoked, and unsuccessful attack on two sign installers. Ignoring the police dispatcher's requests for more information, he snapped the phone shut, tossing it and Loki’s thug on top of the pile.

Loki launching himself into the air, did a few tight circles above him, until Winter, guessing what he wanted, stuck out hand. Loki immediately landed on his wrist, his overly long talons doing horrible things to Winter’s jacket sleeve, even if they didn’t hurt his metal arm.  

Super strength or not, the damn bird was an awkward weight to hold.

From amongst the small gaggle of bystanders that hadn’t been smart enough to scatter when the guns showed up, a piping little voice called out, “Hey Mister, is that your bird?”

PermaLink for Art

“Fuc-- Hell no.” He retorted, just catching himself from swearing. Mostly. 

Hell, being after all an iffy kind of swear. And definitely not something you should say to, he glanced over his shoulder in the direction that the call had come from, to see a kid with messy strawberry-blonde hair that was, maybe seven years old? Or perhaps a small nine, it was hard to tell sometimes. But in either case, while the kid had no doubt heard worse...  

“Oh. He must like you though,” the kid said, drifting towards him all wide eyed.

“Kid, go find your mother.”

“He’s really big. I wonder where he came from?”

“From his mother, now why don’t you go find yours?”

“Can I pet him?”

“Only if you want to lose a finger.”

“I’ll be real gentle. I promise.”

“Kid, where the h---, heck is your mother?”

“Johnny Dorset!” Shouted a harried looking woman. Bouncing a package laden, and presumably infant enclosing stroller over a sidewalk grate she scolded, “You get away from that man right this minute! And don’t you dare bother his bird!”

“Aw, mooooom.” Johnny whined, turning and taking a step towards his mother so small that it would have required a micrometer to measure the distance.

“Right now young man.” She snapped. 

“No. I wanna se--” Johnny was not only in mid sentence, but also in mid stomp when the longest wing Winter had ever seen on a bird slapped the kid on the back of the head. The mid stomp thing being the only reason the kid was able to get a foot out in time to stop himself from falling flat on his face.

“Hey!” Winter and little Johnny shouted in unison. 

Seriously, what the hell.

“Are you crazy? That’s a kid you just smacked.”

Loki turned baleful eyes upon him, and snapped his beak rather too close to Winter’s face for comfort. 

“So, okay, an annoying kid, but still.” He narrowed his eyes at Loki a moment, before focusing his best murder face on the kid. A kid, who despite his mother yelling at him to come to her, and Winter’s best ‘fuck around and find out’ glare, took a half step back towards a giant bird who had already smacked him a good one. 

Was he really gonna have to yell at a little kid?

With a metal bending scream, equal to the one he’d used dive bombing Oldest Thug, Loki’s wings flashing out, to just miss by a quarter inch, smacking the snot out of the little bastard.

Apparently not. 

And, ow. 

Annoyed, Winter tossed Loki into the air. 

Those fucking wings packed a punch.  

OoooO

“Seriously?!” Winter threw up his hands in disgust the moment he sighted Loki waiting for him at home. “You couldn’t have done a German Shepherd? No. You had to go with a screaming, fucking eagle dropping out of the sky? Because of course, long taloned, winged retribution from on high, was marginally more circumspect than, say, oh, I don’t know, a god damned Bengal Tiger?”

Loki shrugged, “I could have chosen a rhinoceros.” 

In a more just world, Winter’s glare would have ignited stone, however in this one it merely caused Loki to raise an elegantly shaped brow. 

“And what is with you waiting until the last moment to step in? Your admiration of my economy of motion and knife skills is gonna get me killed one of these days. 

Loki tsked, “Not at all, I would never allow that to happen. Besides, you’re wearing enough luck and protection runes to almost survive a fall from the Bi-Frost. Therefore, I think I can indulge in a tiny moment of admiration of your… Form. Particularly in a situation where you really didn’t need my help,” Loki said, just stopping himself from shrugging. 

“I can't believe you were just watching. I mean honestly what is it gonna take to get you to show up to the party a bit earlier?”

“Well, a party for one thing, but honestly, I just can't help myself. The way you move, and handle a knife? It's mesmerizing.” 

“If I teach you those moves will you stop standing on the sidelines.” 

Loki waved a languid hand, “Oh I already know all of them, I just like watching you do them.” And despite there being nothing funny about the situation, a small smile played with the corners of his mouth. 

“What?” Winter snapped.   

“I am constantly amazed at how verbose you become when you’re stressed.” Loki observed with a twinkle, “and how colorful your imagery is.” 

Without regarding Winter’s clenched jaw, he drifted over and tugged on the sleeve of Winter’s coat. “Granted, you have a tendency to use a bit more profanity than a man of your intelligence should, but allowances must be made for the, passion that you express yourself with.” 

Because not taking the hint would have resulted in more pouting than Winter was prepared to deal with after the day he’d had, he allowed Loki to slide him out of his coat, held it with his left hand and spread both arms out. If a quick pat down looking for injuries was what it took to maintain peace, he would just as soon get it over with. Besides, it would give him time to plan a response to this afternoon’s event that let Loki know just how he felt about it. 

“I’m not hurt.” Winter tossed over his shoulder as he was being patted down, repressing by long habit and training, his urge to stiffen at someone standing behind him, “I would tell you if I had anything more than a scratch, I’ve told you that time after time.”

“Indeed you have. And if your idea of a minor injury for a Midgardian was commensurate with mine, I might even take your word for it.” 

Again due to his past training Winter did not sigh or roll his eyes, but he did ignore the small voice in the back of his head informing him that long ago he has been just as bad. Regardless, he figured it would take a fucking miracle for his partner to stop being a damn mother hen. 

And while Winter didn’t believe in miracles, he did believe in showers. Which, after a day of laboring as a sign installer, then busting a bunch of heads, is where he headed. Granted, certain people might need to be paid a visit when there wasn’t a street full of civilians watching, but tidying up those loose ends wouldn’t be for a week or two.  

“You could have at least made it a normal sized eagle,” he called, pulling off his shirt and tossing it on the bench in the washroom's locker area, before sitting down to take off his boots. “Your damn feet had to be over seven inches to wrap around as much of my left wrist as they did. And let's not talk about the length of your claws, what were they? Two inches? You don’t think you’re overcompensating a bit do you?” Winter bitched, pulling off his shirt while heading into the bathroom. 

There was a moment of silence during which Winter thought that his last remark might have touched a sore spot, then a visibly bemused Loki appeared and leaned up against the bathroom’s door jam. Loki regarded Winter for a long moment as he hung his shirt on a wall hook and then sat on the homemade bench below it. 

“I was not aware that Midgardians were so uninformed about the species that live in their immediate area. You do know that Golden Eagles have a seven foot wingspan do you not? He pointedly glanced down at his own rather large foot, then back up with a sly smile, his eyes locking on Winter’s. “An animal that large would not have dainty… feet.” 

Cuffing his socks together, Winter made a three point toss into the laundry box before holding out his own right foot and inspecting it “Or other things, huh?” He said, being sure to keep his tone neutral, and then obeying a suggestion from his distant past, he gave Loki a fairly shameless once over.

Then, making sure he maintained eye contact the entire time, Winter stood and undid his belt. He still might not like having people behind him, but there were plenty of things that were better done face to face. 

However, Loki just snickered. So Winter, not unlike that animated chump in the disney movie they’d recently watched, possibly needed to work on his smolder. However, from the way Loki’s eyes lit up before he shook his head, and turned away, Winter was hoping he wouldn’t be waiting too long.  

OoooO

“You know,” Winter said, flipping through the spreadsheet Loki handed several weeks later, “I didn’t think we’d be doing so well, only three months in.” 

“Indeed,” Loki said absently, eyes still fixed on another of his spreadsheets, possibly the ones having to do with their stock market investments. “There seems to be a real demand for scar removal on Midgard, especially among those of lesser incomes, who can’t afford your realm’s cosmetic surgery.”

Yeah, so that might be a good part of the demand for their product. Of course, the fact that the scar fading cream Loki made worked by magic, and produced results that no other product did, and that much of their profit was due to the fact that they had no overhead to speak of, might have been the bigger reason. Loki was using a room in their building, so no extra rent to pay for a manufacturing space. Granted it had been built to standards that could pass an inspection for manufacturing their scar cream, but that was nothing to the cost of a surgical suite, and all the other costs a surgeon had to recoup.  

Plus of course, they weren’t spending any money advertising. Word of mouth was working just fine. So fine in fact, they’d already had a visit from someone who the Wycoff’s were pretty sure worked as a tech at one of the local medical clinics. 

So other than the one day a week they were at the clinics, Loki spent his time slipping into various buildings to get the low down on which stocks were worth investing in. And not having any problems there. Except of course for that time someone at the stock exchange offices had brought their Rat Terrier to work with them. 

But that was not a subject they ever revisited, no matter how funny Winter had found Loki’s rage at being chased all through an entire floor, and only escaping by running under a credenza where no one could see him turn into a bobcat. Fortunately for the Terrier, he was smart enough to turn tail and retreat while still outside of claw range. 

And, since Mrs. Glasswincski had, as promised, found a few people to put up plaques when other businesses (and individuals!) joined the association, Winter was free to deal with the influx of petty criminals who had not yet gotten the message that North Sunset Park was now off limits. 

Those individuals generally found themselves waking up in weird places with a book titled, ‘ How to Be a Successful Criminal: The Real Deal on Crime, Drugs, and Easy Money’ - by Ron Glodoski, duct taped to their torso. 

The book being Mrs. Glasswincski’s idea, Loki’s contribution being a gilded bookmark tucked into each book which read, ‘ Thank God you are still alive for many have died and are dying as I speak. You still have the opportunity to change and make things right whilst those that have died wish for that second chance.” — Alexander Serebryakov ’. 

The copious amounts of duct tape was all Winter’s.

Of course those who refused to take a hint would be visited by Mister North himself. And however much the local criminal class didn’t enjoy Winter visiting them, those visited by Mister North did not find themselves waking up forty or more stories in the air duct taped to tiny maintenance platforms. They generally never woke up again.  

So, with the exception of him having to duct tape the occasional asshole out on a ledge, things were starting to look pretty good. Well, other than Loki fucking with him by constantly changing the type of animal he used to provide (unnecessary) backup when Winter was dealing with street gangs. Those being, wild boar, alligator, clydesdale, and his least remarkable choice, a Tibetian Mastiff; the last of which was marginally acceptable as it was at least a dog, but still not something you generally see wandering around unattended in Brooklyn. 

“Are you just fucking with me?” 

Loki raised both brows and studied him for a long moment, before replying, “No, I am not. However, I am not averse to the idea, should you also desire it.” 

But, before Winter could even open his mouth, Loki shot up one finger in admonishment, “but not until you can tolerate being touched without stiffening.”

Fine. Fine. Just fucking fine.   

Winter was an adult, and adults do not pout when they get shut down. 

Much.

Of course, after Loki-gator had made an appearance, (for absolutely no reason, since Winter totally had that group of morons under control, even the one with the grenade launcher), He looked over the rim of his ever frozen ice mug full of beer, and asked, “What, no dragon?” 

Loki, pushed Winter’s beer off to the side with one hand, and draped the other over his left shoulder, fingers cupping the nape of his neck, with only the slightest tensing on Winter's part. Leaning forward until their foreheads almost touched he practically purred, “Dear Winter, despite the wide variety of animals in New York City parks and zoos, I think even the dullest witted Midgardian authority might wonder at reports of a dragon appearing in Brooklyn.” He then stepped away, his face alight with mischief, “However, I am sure I can come up with something equally interesting, for the next time you need rescued.”

Putting down his mug, Winter, smiling despite himself, retorted, “I’m sure you will, asshole. Just remember, you promised to save any rhino appearances for a Hydra base.” 

Loki vanished into his workshop with a laugh.

Picking up his hoagie, (Extra meat! On a real plate!) Winter took a big bite, and after a moment of chewing decided that despite Loki’s tendency for showing up as weird animals, (when it totally wasn’t necessary) for once in his life things were going pretty good. 

Until the next day, when they weren’t.  

Loki was off doing Loki stuff, so a very flustered Mrs. Glasswincski called him. 

“Mister DeWinter, you will never guess who just called me?” She said in a voice breathless with excitement. “Steve Rogers! Can you believe it? Captain America called me! I was so surprised, I swear, I almost had a spasm. My niece had to run and grab my pills. You’ll never guess… He’s trying to set up a meeting with Mister North about locating a lost pet!”

Fini