Archive of Our Own ^beta

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“Welcome home, Darling.” Loki had been sitting on the couch reading a book when she came back in from her run. She ran about three miles every day, and always seemed rejuvenated when she came home.

“You could’ve come with me.” Was all she said, a challenging smirk on her face as she moved over to him. 

“I could have. I will next time. I’m feeling particularly lazy today.” Usually, he did get up to run with her. Today, though, he had chosen to plant himself on the couch with a good book.

Sylvie moved over to kiss him all the same, but her eyes flew open when he pulled his head back. “What? Am I smelly?” She was confused, and her cheeks began to turn pink before she could stop them.

“No, you smell just fine.” A little sweaty maybe, but the scent of her skin was something that frequently set his senses on fire, and had him seeking her pillows and her side of the blanket when she left their bed in the mornings. “I just had a thought.”

“Yeah, I can see it from here. All that smoke.”

“Rude. Anyway, I’d like to play a game. I bet I can have you begging for me to kiss you proper without even trying.”

“Sounds weird.” She sat down on the couch beside him. “Why?”

“Just because. If I win, you can do all the chores around the house for a whole week.”

“Fuck that.” She hated chores. They were a necessary evil, but she hated them with a passion. And what if I win?”

Loki thought for a moment. “If you win, I’ll let you try that thing you’ve been dying to do to me in bed…” He lowered his gaze, darkening his eyes just enough to tantalize her. He saw her mouth hang open a bit, before she steeled her face.

“Fine. No problem. I”m not losing this one, so you better be ready. What are your terms?”

“One? I can kiss you and touch you anywhere else. Three, if you make any move or word to kiss me, you lose immediately.”

“I’ve got this. Easiest way to get you to let me fu-”

“Oh! One more thing. You can forfeit at any time. And normal conversation is okay.”

“That was two more things. Anyway come at me. Do your worst. It won’t work.”

“Why, don’t you want to kiss me?”

“ Not that. My willpower is just too strong.”

He smirked, shifting closer to her and watching her eyes. Those eyes studied his every movement, and he had always known her to be frighteningly perceptive. Nothing escaped her watchful gaze, and he supposed it was all due to the way she’d grown up. Determined not to let it make him too sad, he started with a gentle peck on her cheek. A mere butterfly kiss, a ghosting of lips, Her skin was so soft against his lips, and he moved higher on her face toward her cheekbone. A gentle kiss to her eyelid, her nose, those were all well and fine. It was the sweet kiss to her forehead that brought a breathy sigh from her lips. He knew that would get her every time. Tender displays of affection were entirely new to her, and she often didn’t know what to do with them. With him, though, he noticed she was ferociously determined to learn.

His hand slid up, fingers curling around her hip and stroking it tenderly with the pad of his thumb. She squirmed, shifting into his touch, but the look on her face remained resolute. He knew going into this that it wouldn’t be easy, but any challenge coming from his beloved Sylvie was a challenge he would throw his entire being into.

Next, he picked up her hand, kissing each of her knuckles, the palm of her hand, her wrist, nothing was spared from his gentle, sweet ministrations. She continued watching him, though now he noted the light flush on her cheeks. When he put her hand down and moved closer to her, she let out a shaky breath. His lips on her neck had her head craning, giving him more access to the delicious, pale skin. A nip to her neck pulled a gasp from her, and she shoved him a bit.

“Teeth weren’t in the deal!” She squeaked, her voice a bit higher than normal.

“Oh? Did you like that?” He whispered against her neck, dragging his tongue over the spot. The shiver that ran through her was visible from any angle.

“Prick, you know I do.”

“Mmm. What can I do for you? Maybe a kiss will set you right...”

“Nice try. I’m not losing when chores are on the table.”

He began to fear that her statement was accurate, as she remained stone faced, save for the flush in her cheeks and the tip of her nose. She squirmed, occasionally sighing and angling toward him, but she made no move to lose this bet. Loki pulled himself up from her collarbone in order to get a good look at her. Her face, those eyes, they captivated him. Her eyes were razor sharp in the way they noticed everything around her, and they were such a bottomless blue he felt he could spend an eternity lost in them and never grow bored or tired of their sparkle. He noted the tiny scar on her eyebrow, acquired in their battle in the Timekeeper’s chamber, and wished such an event hadn’t marred her beautiful face. It was commonplace though, just one more scar to add to her repertoire. This face was the one he loved, and the one he had vowed to protect for the rest of their lives. She smiled, gentle wrinkles forming around her eyes as she did so. He felt her hand curl around the back of his neck, and that was about it before the world went black and he began to fall forward…

When he pulled away from her, it took a moment to shake the stars from his eyes and return to the conscious world. She was smiling brighter than she had been before the world faded to black, and the coquettish giggle bubbling up from her chest was enough to set his blood aflame.

“Hey, Loki…” She muttered, a sultry lilt in her tone.

“W-what?” He stuttered.

“You lost your own bet, idiot.”

It took him a moment to put it all together. The sudden blackout, the falling forward, it all made sense. He had forgotten everything and kissed her instead. Damn. That was on his top five list of dumbest things he’d ever done, for sure.

“I didn’t-....Shit.” He sighed. Her laughter ringing through his ears and rattling his brain somehow made up for his own idiocy.

“It’s okay. I’ll make sure to keep the kitchen clean…ish.” She patted her thighs and stood abruptly. “Come on, off to the bedroom with you since you got me all in the mood.” She picked up his hand and gave it a tug.

Loki said a silent prayer as he walked with her, fearing for his life in the best possible way and insisting he grab a water bottle or two on the way there.

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Sylvie hated a lot of things. She hated drunk drivers and mean social workers, student loans, Christmas and her boss who always put her on closing shifts. But for the time being, more than anything else, she hated her roommate. 

Loki Odinson, randomly assigned through mandatory graduate housing. An inalterable assignment. She knew, she had tried. Why some algorithm, or sadistic assistant decided to put them together she’d never understand. Perhaps because they were both British, but that incredibly surface level connection was where their similarities ended. 

He was six feet, two inches of pure smarm and pretentiousness. Spoiled rotten. His family was exuberantly rich, she knew it, as did everyone else on campus. It was something he bragged about constantly as if it was some grand personal accomplishment. Sylvie imagined if student housing wasn’t mandatory he would likely be living off in some high rise, or castle, or wherever blissfully alone.

Based on how he acted, he already seemed to believe he lived by himself. He constantly blasted his music in the kitchen, and didn’t clean up after himself. He had very loud people over at all times of the night, seemingly every night.

All of that Sylvie could deal with. She was used to cleaning up messes that weren’t her own, and her pair of ear plugs were constantly on standby. She could even ignore the parade of various ditzes who infested her kitchen every morning. Their awkward smiles and vague auras of embarrassment as Sylvie brewed her coffee and tried not to make eye contact. All of that she could push to the side.

But he kept stealing her food.

Sylvie initially dismissed it as a mistake. A blunder stemming from the fact her roommate had clearly never lived with others before. So she had started labeling her food. All of it, every jar, every container, even her bruised apple. But it kept happening. She would enter the kitchen, ready to enjoy her dinner that she made, with groceries she bought, and find him already polishing it off with a shit eating grin on his face.

It was beyond infuriating. 

She tried everything to get him to stop. She separated their fridge shelves. Even giving him the extra shelf, despite the fact he only used it to store liquor that really should have gone in the freezer. She added more labels to her tupperware, to the point they were all but wallpapered with her name. She stuck countless reminders on the fridge door, double underlined in bright red ink.

Nothing stopped him.

She was already exhausted coming back from work. Her bus was late. Well it was always later, so she supposed more late was the apt description, which meant it was packed and she hadn’t been able to get a seat, making the ache in her feet burn from the awful no-slip sneakers she had to wear significantly worse. The only thing that was keeping her upright as she pushed her keys into the lock was the vision of her inhaling her dinner and flopping into bed into the blissful welcoming arms of sleep.

So when she walked into their apartment only to find Loki sitting on the couch, watching some football match, finishing off her curry, that she had saved for after work, she was ready to kill. 

Storming in front of him, the only indication of her presence he gave was a slight scowl.

“You’re blocking my view,” he sighed.

“That’s mine,” she snarled.

“What is?” Loki asked, taking another bite of her curry.

Sylvie ripped the plate out of his hand, causing Loki to give her an indignant glare.

“This,” she growled, lifting the plate, “is mine.”

“Is it?” Loki smirked, in a way that made it very clear he knew it was. “I am so sorry, I must have gotten it mixed up with mine.”

“You got my curry mixed up with your tequila?”

“I made one just like this, right before you got here,” he pressed a finger against his lips and frowned, “I haven't the slightest where it went now.”

“This one, has MY name on it.”

Loki squinted before throwing a hand over his heart. 

“Ah it does, doesn’t it? Oh my, I am so sorry. I must have missed it.”

“Like you missed it the last eight times?”

“Poor eyesight?”

“Get glasses.” 

He bowed his head in faux shame. “Well, you can completely trust, a gaff of this nature will never occur again. My sincere apologies.”

Sylvie knew he didn’t mean it, he never meant it, but was too exhausted to keep up this fight, so she spun around and left with a huff. She could feel Loki smirking behind her.

Making her way into her room she started a mental countdown of how much longer she was going to need to live with him. It was October and she was stuck with him until at least June. Two-hundred-thirty-seven days to be exact. 

She couldn’t keep this up for another two-hundred-thirty-seven days. She needed a strategy. 

Her first idea was putting less of her stuff in the fridge. One thing Sylvie had picked up on is that he never took ingredients, only targeting what she had already made. It meant she wasn’t able to cook for herself beforehand, which was annoying, but it was better than not being able to eat at all. 

Her second idea was hiding the stuff she really wanted in the packaging of foods she knew he would never look in. Thus far it had been mostly successful, and her collection of extra boxes and bags she kept for hiding was growing every day. Most recently had tucked a tub of ice cream away in an old bag of frozen peas she was sure he would never touch. 

She felt herself smile at her own cleverness. 

It was Sylvie’s treat to herself for getting through her first term paper, which she just needed to make a few final edits on and submit. 

It was over thirty pages long, single spaced, and had taken her weeks of late night, and enough caffeine to kill a horse to finish. But she was almost done, a few more tweaks and she would be digging into a carton of Flickermans’s Birthday Cake delight.

The seven dollar price tag on just a pint had almost made her put it back. Money was tight, even with her scholarship and the ridiculous hours she found herself working, but she decided for a once in a while indulgence, she could swallow seven dollars.

Double-checking her last citation Sylvie downloaded the PDF and hit submit. Her email pinged with the confirmation, and she let out a sigh of relief. It was done. 

She felt her stress begin to drain as she exited the countless tabs open on judge appointments just in case she lost her citation and shut her laptop. Cracking her back she got up from her desk, and made her way into the kitchen. Her stomach growled with anticipation as she threw open the freezer door.

Her heart sank. The bag of frozen peas was gone. She prayed it was some mistake from her eyes, that he had moved it looking for something else and she just hadn’t found it yet. But as she dug through the freezer the revelation crept up on her like a trail of ice snaking it’s way down her back. It was gone.

Turning slowly, Sylvie’s hands collapsed into fists as she looked across the kitchen into the living room.

And there he was. Sitting on the couch again, spoon running across the bottom of her pint of ice cream, hard enough for the spoon to let out a whine as it scraped against the cardboard. Without thinking she stomped up to him, face red and breaths short with rage. 

“That’s mine,” she snarled again.

“Is it?” Loki asked, barely glancing at her, seeming almost bored with the whole affair.

Sylvie snatched the empty container out of his hands.

“Thank you, I was dreading having to throw that away,” he smiled palpably smug as he leaned back in his seat.

“What is this for you?” Sylvie roared. “I know your family has money, you obviously don't need to be stealing my stuff. So what is it? Does infuriating me just get you off?”

Loki’s face slightly twitched at the mention of his family, but he swallowed it back under a sharp smirk. He leaned forward, holding eye contact with her as he folded his hands in front of him.

“And what if it does?” he leered.

Something in Sylvie snapped. She was on him before she could stop herself, tackling him onto the couch, fists flying towards him in pure fury

“Stop stealing my shit!” she screamed.

The whole encounter seemed to humour Loki to no end. He laughed, easily pushing Sylvie off, causing her to land with a thump on the floor.

She deflated as she realized how childish she was acting. The tisking of countless foster parents and social workers ran through her head reminding her to behave. She shook them out. 

What hurt more than her bruised pride and tailbone, was the knowledge she couldn’t stop him. That nothing she say or did was going to matter, not to him. 

Collecting whatever shards of pride she had left, silently she got up and walked away.

And thus began her period of silence. She would walk in on him eating her food, and say nothing. She didn’t roll her eyes, or groan, or complain, instead she would just duck into her room, without even a second glance. She tried to convince herself that if she simply pretended he didn’t exist, the skies would take mercy and he somehow wouldn’t anymore.

As he picked up on what was happening he seemed initially pleased. He would attempt some barb or triumphant taunt, every time Sylvie passed, but she was beyond even humouring him.

Days of silence, dragged into weeks. His taunts became more frequent, almost sounding more desperate as time ticked on, but by then Sylvie had gotten into the habit of ignoring him. It had become second nature to her, whatever desire she once had to respond dulled into a low, barely legible whisper in the back of her mind she could easily dismiss. 

Eventually he gave up on trying to goad her. His defeat brought with it an odd change of demeanor. He was more courteous, the music stopped, the kitchen was almost clean most of the time and his line of partners trickled into all but the occasional stranger. When she passed he tried to smile at her, looking nearly guilty. Sylvie brushed him off without another thought.

The chances of him suddenly growing conscious were slim, it was probably a set up for another trick. Or he had just gotten bored of her. Either way, she didn’t care. 

The kitchen was quiet when Sylvie entered after another closing shift. She didn’t know if Loki was home, it was pretty late so she assumed so, but hoped not. All she wanted was to throw something in her stomach and get into the shower in as little time as humanly possible. Making her way to the fridge she almost missed the green post-it note stuck to the door. In neat black cursive it read,

Sorry. - Loki

Sylvie scoffed, crumpling the note in her hand and tossing it into the rubbish bin behind her. Weeks of thievery and he couldn't manage more than one word.

Swinging the door open, she heard herself gasp as her eyes flooded with the wonder it held. Wall to wall, it was packed with groceries. Not just the no-name brands and bruised produce Sylvie got, but the organic stuff with fancy cursive logos that she always wanted to try. 

“It’s yours,” a voice behind her called.

Sylvie spun to see Loki, his eyes downcast and his hands in his pockets.

He swallowed, “to make up for what I took.”

Sylvie sneered, “whatever game you're playing, I don’t-”

“No games,” Loki lifted his hands in surrender, “but perhaps a deal.”

Sylvie leaned back. His voice sounded genuine, more genuine then anything she had heard from him yet. He almost sounded nervous, if Sylvie thought he was capable of that. Her will wasn’t quite enough to kill her curiosity, so she gave him a small nod forward.

“I’ll provide whatever groceries you need for the rest of the semester.”

It took conscious effort to keep her jaw from gaping. Immediately her brain started running the numbers, how much she could save, it was enough she wouldn’t be so desperate for shifts. She could finally say no to some closings. But there had to be a catch, there always was.

“In exchange for what?”

Loki shifted obviously uncomfortable.

“This is your idea,” Sylvie reminded him with a huff.

“I need you,” he mumbled, “to show me how to cook.”

Sylvie’s mind went blank. For all the possibilities she had imagined his next words being, this was not among them.

“What do you mean?” she pressed.

“Cooking, making food. I- I don’t know how.”

“I’m not exactly a chef,” Sylvie retaliated, crossing her arms in front of her.

“You don’t need to be,” Loki stammered, clasping his hand together, “I just need the basics.”

“The basics?”

“My family, we’ve always had people who did the cooking for us. So my knowledge is rather limited.”

Sylvie clenched her jaw. Free groceries were appealing. Spending more time with Loki wasn’t. 

“Will this stop you from eating my food?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Loki nodded before backing himself towards the freezer and holding out his hand as if to demonstrate something. Sylvie could hear the excitement dripping off his words.

 “And-“ he beamed, throwing open the freezer door. Sylvie couldn’t stop her gasp this time. Wall to wall it was filled with ice cream. Specifically her Flickerman’s Birthday Cake Delight ice cream, pint after pint neatly lined up in endless rows.

Loki seemed to notice her eyes going wide with a hopeful grin

“Deal?” he asked, lifting his hand towards her.

This was definitely a bad idea. But groceries were expensive, and it was the first real shot she had at getting him to stop. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t convince herself that tolerating a few hours of severe annoyance was worth turning that down. So she reached out her hand.

“Deal,” she groaned.

Sylvie pushed the box so hard towards him, it nearly slid off the counter. He stopped it at the last moment, picking up the blue cardboard and studying it with a set focus as if it was written in a foreign language.

She still didn’t want to be doing this. But Loki had held to his end of the bargain, and she had pushed off holding to hers as long as she could rationalize. 

Loki was still studying the box when he looked up with a frown.

“What is this?” he asked with a grimace.

“Boxed mac and cheese, lesson one.”

Loki’s face twisted in disgust.

“It comes out of a box?”

“Yep. Three steps.”

“Can’t we make something… edible?”

Sylve felt herself scowl.

“One, box mac and cheese is delicious, I lived off it in undergrad. Two until you’re good at making food, you don’t get to make good food. If you can handle this we’ll move onto something fancier. But I warned you, I’m not a chef.”

“Fine,” Loki groaned.

“Great,” Sylvie noted. with as little enthusiasm as she figured was possible. The only thing keeping her going was that boxed mac and cheese took ten minutes, if that, she’d be out of here fast. 

“You’re going to start by boiling water.”

Loki stared at her blankly. Sylvie’s brow furrowed in confusion at his delay, she supposed maybe he was waiting for confirmation.

“You can start,” she prompted.

He still stood frozen to the floor. A realization began to nudge at Sylvie’s conscience but she pushed it away. There was no way-

“You do know how to boil water, right?” she teased, meaning it strictly as a joke, but Loki’s cheeks went beat red, bringing the inevitable crashing down on Sylvie. She gaped at him.

“I told you I don’t know how to cook!” he protested.

“This isn’t cooking, this is survival,” she stammered. “How have you never had to boil water?”

“Well I’m sorry madam, I wasn’t living in the midst of the wilderness where we had to boil our water like you apparently were.”

“What about tea?” she attempted.

“What about it?”

“You’ve made it. You’ve turned on a kettle.”

Loki’s cheeks turned redder.

“You’ve never made tea?!”

“We had people for that too.”

“Jesus christ,” Sylvie sighed, sinking her face into her hands. 

She knew Loki had come from money, but not having servants make your tea like it was the 17th century money. This was going to be so much harder than what she signed up for.

“What are you even doing here?” she moaned, unable to comprehend what someone like him was doing in their crappy student aparentment, studying for a masters he obviously didn’t need, and based on his study habits, or lack there of, had very little interest in. Surely if he wanted a degree so badly he could have found somewhere closer that home, in his assumable palace manor with his legions of servants waiting on him hand and foot.

“It’s a long story,” he mumbled.

Inhaling Sylvie summoned as much patience as she could.

“Okay,” she breathed out. But Loki was still burning red.

“This is stupid,” he muttered, turning to go.

Sylvie expected to be happy, after all, he was leaving. But she felt oddly ashamed that she had obviously embarrassed him.

“Wait,”’ escaped her lips before she could stop it. “I shouldn’t have said that. You just caught me off guard.”

“I told you I’m missing the basics,” he bit back.

“I know,” she pushed her hands into her back pockets. “I get it now. If you still want to try, you just need to put some water in a pot.”

Slowly Loki stepped back into the kitchen, Sylvie nodded him towards the pots. He inexplicably pulled out the largest pot either of them owned.

“We could probably use a smaller one,” she managed, putting conscious effort into sounding nonjudgmental. 

Wordlessly, he dug through their cabinet and eventually emerged with the smallest pot. It would be tight but at least it was functional.

“Great,” she plastered on a smile, “now just fill it with water.”

He filled it all the way to the brim, so when he wasn’t looking Sylvie poured the top inch of it out.

“Then it goes on the heat.”

Loki looked around the room, causing Sylvie to internally sigh, she was proud of her ability to keep it internalized.

“The stove top,” she explained.

He placed it dead center forcing Sylvie to move it onto one of the burners and crank the dial about seventy percent of the way. 

“What do we do now?” he asked, staring into the water. 

“You wait for it to boil.”

“That's it?”

“Basically.”

“Seems boring.”

Sylvie shrugged, “sometimes it is. Usually doesn’t take too long.”

Their mutual silence rapidly soured to the point of awkwardness. 

Loki tapped his foot, then glanced at Sylvie. He seemed anxious, yet another emotion she didn’t think he possessed. 

“So, what are you studying?” he asked. 

Sylvie wanted to scoff. Over a month and a half of living together and he had never thought to ask her even the basics.

“Law,” Sylvie bit, trying to cut off the conversation as neatly as possible. 

“Impressive. Do you like it?” 

“It’s fine.” 

“That’s good, I guess.” 

The silence returned. This time, Sylvie was the one who couldn’t take it. 

“And you?” She asked after way too much time. 

Loki’s eyebrows shot up, as if he was shocked to have even been asked.

“Finance,” he nodded.

Sylvie nearly laughed, god he was predictable.

“Do you like it?”

Loki shrugged, but his expression was bitter

“It was all I was allowed to study, but I suppose it's sort of interesting when I’m not too busy resenting it.” 

A story bubbled beneath his words, rising towards Sylvie with far more intrigue then she expected.

“What did you want to study instead?”

Loki’s face scrunched as if he was thinking very hard. As he blinked slowly Sylvie distantly wondered if anyone had ever asked him this before, based off the length of his delay she imagined not. Eventually he laughed but it sounded forced. 

“Doesn’t matter,” he dismissed. 

Sylvie supposed he was right.

Eventually the water came to a boil. Sylvie helped him pour in the noodles, then once they were done she showed him how to drain it and mix in the cheese poweder, butter and milk. 

Loki hadn’t really gotten the concept of a “splash” of milk so it was soupy and he had set the timer for hours instead of minutes making it so severely overcooked it neared mush. On three separate occasions Loki had managed to burn himself in the process, but it was edible. Something Loki was in apparent awe of as he took a few tentative bites out of the pot. 

“I’m surprised you’re eating it,” Sylvie laughed.

“I made it,” Loki smiled, more to himself than to her. 

The way he said it with such shock, such disbelief, pulled at something in Sylvie’s chest, but she shoved it off the side. 

“Thank you,” he nodded, shoveling in another forkful out of the pot. 

“Just keep to your end of the deal,” she sighed, as he poured the remainder into a bowl and took off towards the couch. 

And he did. For the rest of the week Sylvie’s food went untouched, but day after day every one of their remaining boxes of mac and cheese disappeared. 

Next came scrambled eggs, Sylvie figured protein might be a welcome addition to his now limited diet of carbs and fake cheese. Then cesar wraps, and frozen pizza. Nothing in the realm of complicated, but every step felt like a challenge and every bite was triumphant. 

Despite her best efforts, Sylvie couldn’t help but grow tolerable of Loki. When he wasn’t being insufferably annoying, which was rare, he was actually almost nice. She had learned a lot more about him too, which had helped, both through their forced conversations and a mild internet stalk. From google she leanred he had an older brother, from him she found out they didn’t really get along. His father owned one of the biggest financial firms in London, Google, which Loki had no interest in, him. He was a pretty good singer, but had at best mediocre music taste. When he laughed he would sometimes snort, and he could manage a half decent American accent. All of that had come from him.

Sylvie wouldn’t call them friends. Not that she really had anything to compare him to in that regard, but he was at very least livable now. Nearing the point of being pleasant on occasion. 

One thing that Sylvie noticed that rang as odd to her was Loki’s refusal to eat in her proximity Not that she expected him too. But every time they finished there was an awkward beat where Sylvie would sit down, and Loki would pick up his plate and either cross the room to the couch or duck away into his bedroom. She didn’t mind, and wasn’t in any way offended, but it was certainly odd. She had half the thought to ask him about it, if nothing else to ensure he didn’t feel like he had to, but she didn’t want to risk the embarrassment of the most likely explanation; that he simply just didn’t want to sit with her. So she dismissed it, and ate alone. It was more comfortable that way, always had been.

More weeks passed, and against all odds Loki started to get the hang of cooking. He remembered to preheat the oven, and after one pizza that was reduced to near charcoal, setting the fire alarm off and earning them dirty looks from the rest of the building for days after, remembered to set the timer most of the time. He could sort of dice an onion and stopped fearing the addition of salt like it was the plague. His food began tasting better, not good, but no longer bad, and slowly his confidence began to grow. At least to the point him not garnering a look of terror every time he entered the kitchen.

On Sylvie’s end, not having to buy her own groceries had certainly helped. She even began going to the grocery store with Loki, telling both herself and him that it was to help pick out the better produce, and that he couldn’t seem to follow a list to save his life, but honestly going to a grocery store and being able to pick out whatever she wanted was a luxury she thought she would only dream of. Still she tried to cost cut and save, more on instinct than anything else, always picking out the cheaper brand, which Loki would promptly put back and choose the more expensive one, and passing over anything that wasn’t a necessity, but any time her eyes lingered on a product for more than a second he would throw it in the cart and rejected any efforts she made to put it back. It was nice. Weird, but nice. 

As they were checking out Sylvie’s anxiety still rose with every tick up of the total, but Loki hardly gave it a second glance before handing over his card. He didn’t even take the receipt.

“I have a question,” Sylvie let out as they gathered their bags. They didn’t live far from the store and the weather was nice, unnaturally so for November, so they had decided to walk. As they trecked down the sidewalk Sylvie noticed that some store front’s had already begun putting up Christmas decorations. Internally she cringed. Every year they seemed to go up sooner and sooner. 

She hated Christmas. People always called her a Grinch for saying it, but she did. She had since she was a child. For her it had always meant countless charity drives she was forced to attend, shaking hands with strangers who she was supposed to make pity her enough to open their pocketbooks. It meant infinite tiny reminders of what she didn’t have, and people telling her that it was the most important thing in the world. Images and stories of other kids waking up to a table full of food they didn’t feel guilty taking from, and presents that weren’t opened in front of a room full of generous donors. Their parents waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs. 

Sylvie forced her bitterness back. 

Christmas didn’t need to mean anything to her anymore either then time and a half pay, and a more dispersed bus schedule.

“I assume I have an answer,” Loki scoffed, lifting one of the bags out of Sylvie’s hands and breaking her train of thought with a pull back to reality. 

“It’s dumb,” she noted.

“If you’ll recall, a few weeks ago I couldn’t boil water.”

Sylvie felt herself smile.

“If you have this much money, why don’t you just order takeaway? There's lots of places near here. What’s with this desire to cook for yourself?”

Loki glanced down, as if he was ashamed, and Sylvie was worried she had overstepped. But then he rubbed his chin and turned his attention back to her.

“My father, he sees every charge on my card. Makes sense, considering he’s the one paying it.”

“So?”

“He already didn’t think that I could handle being out on my own. It took agreeing to study finance of all things to get him to even consider me moving out. Explaining why I’m ordering in every day, it would justify everything he thinks of me.”

The question as to why he even wanted to rose in Sylvie again, but by now she was sure it was something she shouldn’t be asking about. 

“And he doesn’t care if you're spending $152.52 on a week's worth of groceries?”

“Truthfully, I don’t think he has the slightest idea what a normal price would look like.”

Sylvie nodded. It almost, sort of, made sense. 

“I really appreciate you doing this,” Loki muttered, kicking at a stray lump of concrete. “Especially after I was such an ass.”

Sylvie shrugged, letting his praise slip off her shoulders. 

“It keeps me mildly less broke, which I appreciate too,” she smirked. 

“But you’re still working all the time,” he observed. 

Sylvie was surprised he had noticed. 

“It’s not even work, it’s the bus,” she laughed. “It never comes, and when it does, it's so painfully slow. It takes me like an hour to just get home.”

“Where do you work?” Loki asked, his brows furrowing with thought.

“The McDonalds on Backler.”

“That’s halfway across town?”

“Only place I could find that gave me enough hours,” Sylvie sighed,

“Is that where you learned to cook?”

“No, I wouldn’t really count what we do there as cooking or anything remotely similar to it. That was-“ Sylvie laughed before cutting herself off with the sting of her memory. She choked it back, desperate to shut down this line of questioning before they breached anything close to that nerve, “-not important.”

Loki gave her an odd look, but didn’t push it any further, which she appreciated. 

The next night Sylvie was back at work. Closing was dragging, again, so she was already behind, which meant even if her bus had come, unlikely in itself, it was already long gone. She was going to need to wait for the next one, that was another forty minutes away. Sylvie groaned to herself. Her feet hurt and she smelled like grease. All she wanted to do was take a long shower, crash into bed and fall asleep. Punching in her company ID, she clocked out and grabbed her coat, beginning her long trek to the bus stop. As she shoved her hands in her pockets and made her way through the parking lot, her heard a car start honking behind her. She hoped it was just someone who slipped on the wheel but then the honking continued. She dropped her head and started walking faster, the last thing she needed tonight was some creep cat-calling her. 

“Hey,” a voice called from behind her.

Shit.

Sylvie’s grip on her keys in her pocket tightened as she spun, her eyes scanning to find the quickest exit just in case.

“Look buddy, I don’t know what-“ she growled.

Her eyes were met with Loki leaning out the window of a very nice car. An expectant smirk on his face. First she was relieved he wasn’t some creep that was going to try to murder her in a back alley but then once that relief dissipated, incredibly confused.

“We’re closed,” Sylvie explained awkwardly, her mind jumping to the only possible explanation for his presence.

“I know,” Loki laughed. “I’m here to pick you up.”

Sylvie shifted in place, staring blankly at him as panic began to stir in her stomach. As much as she loved the prospect of not having to take the bus home, she wasn’t used to people offering her things. Not without a cost. And she didn’t know what this one’s was. That was dangerous.

“Did you honestly think I decided to journey all the way to a McDonalds half way across the city, just because I wanted a burger?” he laughed. “I passed three vastly superior places to get my fill of salt and cholesterol on the way here.”

“I can just take the bus,” Sylvie muttured, looking out to the crowded bus stop across the street.

“What, why?” Loki stammered, his previous humour evaporating.

“You didn’t need to come all this way, I know how long of a drive it is-”

“Sylvie, I was just joking. It was like fifteen minutes.”

“But that’s your time.”

“That I was hardly even using. You know me, it wasn’t like I was studying. It was no trouble.”

Sylvie shifted again. She felt her familiar shame bubble. She shouldn't have complained. He was now probably doing this out of obligation and would resent her for it soon enough. Or would ask her for something for it, that she didn’t have. She would be forever in his debt.

Her spiral was cut off by a wet flake falling on her cheek. She was grateful to realize it was snow, for a moment she had thought it was a tear. Regardless she wiped it absently.

“Come on. It’s about to snow. There is no way I’m leaving you out here in this,” Loki pleaded.

Sylvie bit her lip. So much of her wanted to get in and just go home. To accept his offer, and let herself sink into the warmth of his car but she felt stuck to the pavement. 

“Look,” he reasoned, his expression more firm, “I’m already here. Can you please just get in?”

Something about those words was enough to push Sylvie into silently surrendering to her fear of coming across as ungrateful and duck into his car. 

The inside his car was warm, not uncomfortably hot, but a welcome relief against the chill of the night. It had seats of shiny leather that seemed to meld against Sylvie as she sat down and slammed the door behind her.

It was a gorgeous car, Sylvie didn’t know the brand but it looked expensive in a sleek slim black. It felt expensive too. As they pulled out of the parking lot, the motion was so smooth she hardly noticed that the car had moved at all.

Staring out the window Sylvie watched as the lights melted under the rush of wind and snow moving around them. To her it looked like a sea filled with swirling stars.

Loki kept his eyes on the road, twisting a dial to turn on the radio. It was playing some pop song Sylvie didn’t know, but it was catchy enough for Loki to quietly hum along. 

“Thank you,” Sylvie muttured, keeping her eyes on the night outside the window not quite able to face him. 

“I already told you, it’s no trouble,” Loki dismissed. “I’m sorry if I freaked you out or-“

“No,” Sylvie sputtered too quickly, “it’s not that. It’s just I guess I’m not used to this.”

“Cars?” Loki asked as they rolled to a stop on red.

“That too,” Sylvie confessed, “but I meant having people do stuff like this.” 

Sylvie caught his reaction in the rear view mirror, he looked far sadder than she was prepared for.

“It’s really nothing,” he swallowed. 

“It’s not nothing,” Sylvie shook her head.

Loki scoffed as the light turned green. The car purred to life as they took off forward.

“Well then it’s the least I can do.”

“It’s not that either.”

“Won’t give me an inch will you?”

That made Sylvie laugh, which she couldn’t help but notice made Loki smile.

“You hungry?” he asked once her chuckles quieted.

Sylvie was. She was incredibly hungry. But she didn’t have the money to waste on take away and didn’t have the energy to cook.

“I’ll probably just make myself a bowl of cereal when I get home,” she shrugged.

“I don’t think we’ve covered that one yet.”

“It’s pretty easy,” Sylvie scoffed, “I can show you when we get back.”

“I’m sure it is. But it's also not dinner,” he noted, looking around before pulling over and parking on the side of the street. Sylvie stared out the window, trying to figure out where they were. Definitely not their apartment. 

“Where are we?” she eventually asked.

Loki unbuckled his seat belt. “A place where we can get actual dinner.”

Anxiety sank into Sylvie as he stepped out of the car, churning so fast she felt as if she couldn’t move. The restaurant they had parked next to looked fancy. Like didn’t even include the prices on the menu, had a wait list longer than The Crucible, fancy.

She came to two concurrent realizations. One, she definitely couldn’t afford it. Two, there was no way she was making it past the door in her McDonald’s uniform.

Still, Loki seemed oblivious as he opened her door and offered her his hand.

“I can’t,” Sylvie stammered.

“You don’t like Italian?”

“I’m not dressed.”

“My father’s friends with the owners, they won't mind. I’ve shown up in far more questionable attire.”

“I can’t afford it,” she whispered, feeling her cheeks flush with the admission. “But you can go on ahead, there's a bus from-”

“What’s with you and this bus idea?” Loki cut off.

“It’s convenient.”

“You were telling me yesterday it never comes.”

“But when it does, it’s very convenient.”

Loki rolled his eyes, “like I said, my dad is friends with the owners. This won’t cost us a cent. Now come on. I promise, it’s at least better than cereal.”

Sylive felt pulled in two. The thought of everyone’s judgmental glares and scowls as she entered nearly kept her seated, but she had never been one to refuse an offer of a meal. Especially one she would never get to have again. And she was already indebted to Loki for the evening, if she was in for a penny she was in for a pound. So with a shaking breath she took Loki’s hand and was pulled to her feet.

The restaurant was dark, so much so Sylvie almost tripped over her feet on the way in. It had some name of an Italian word she couldn’t pronounce and she didn’t want to embarrass herself trying. Music rang quietly in the background, melding with the sound of clattering cutlery and laughter. Some woman with a slicked back bun took her coat as soon as she entered with a pleasant smile. She handled it as if it was a fine piece of art, not an out of season jacket from four years ago Sylvie had gotten on clearance.

Loki exchanged surprisingly few words with the host before he waved them forward. 

As she expected everyone else was dressed in outfits that cost more then what Sylvie made in a month. But to her surprise they hardly gave her, or her McDonalds uniform, a second glance as she passed through the dining room. Truthfully Loki seemed to pull more eyes of the two of them. 

The host sat them in the corner. Tucked away from the quiet bustle of the rest of the restaurant and lit in candle light, the relative privacy helped calm a bit of Sylvie’s nerves. With a smile and a nod he wandered off. A moment after, a woman with long dark hair and a sharp smile took his place. She wordlessly poured them two glasses of wine. Sylvie hadn’t the slightest idea what the brand was, she wasn’t even all that big of a fan of reds, but Loki made some quip about them bringing out the good stuff that made the waitress laugh.

“Cheers,” Loki smiled once she was gone.

Lifting her glass Sylvie bumped hers against his with a clean clang and took a sip. Apparently she has been wrong about her aversion to reds. This wasn’t like anything she had tried before, so rich and smooth it swelled across Sylvie’s senses. She stared into the glass in amazement.

“It’s good, right?” Loki noted, taking another sip.

“I really wouldn’t know. The wine I’ve had has all come from the grocer.”

“Well do you like it?”

Sylvie nodded.

“Then it’s good,” he smiled.

Sylvie took another few sips, more to settle her nerves then anything else. Still her hands were slightly shaking and her heart thrumming but it softened under the embrace of mild intoxication.

“How was work?” Loki asked, swirling his cup.

“Fine,” Sylvie shrugged. “It’s work.”

Throwing a hand over his heart as if he had been wounded, he smirked. “Your mastery of words astounds me.”

“Piss off,” Sylvie pushed back, but she couldn’t help a smile.

The waitress returned, and Sylvie suddenly noticed they hadn’t gotten menus. She was about to ask when the woman launched into a long spiel which Sylvie realized too late was describing a series of dishes. It amazed Sylvie, she was able to configure her way through a three hour lecture on French tort law, but this woman describing the options of her dinner was as indistinguishable as Latin to her.

When the waitress locked eyes with her expectantly, Sylvie just decided to go with whatever Loki had asked for. She wasn’t willing to even attempt to guess at another dish. The woman smiled, and complemented their choices before disappearing again. Not too long after their food came out. Apparently she had ordered some sort of pasta dish with a red sauce. It looked beautiful, more like a piece of art than food. She felt unworthy of destroying it just to eat it, but Loki dug in without hesitation, so she followed his lead. Lifting a noodle to her nose she breathed in the scent. It was bright and buttery, an alluring combination between savory and spice. Unable to hold herself back any longer, she took a bite

Sylvie couldn’t believe food could taste this good. It was as if everything she had ever tried was made in black in white. This was a rainbow of colour. It was warm and rich and light, somehow all at once. For the rest of her existence, she decided all she wanted to do was sit in this chair and eat this. She didn’t want to work, or sleep, or eat anything else. She just wanted this taste in her mouth, forever until she died. Quickly she piled another forkful into her mouth, fast enough to make Loki laugh. Which made Sylvie blush.

“Is this what’s food is supposed to taste like?” she asked in awe. 

“I know,” Loki chuckled. “It’s pretty great.”

“I don’t know how you can handle boxed mac and cheese after eating like this.”

“Well I can’t make this. But I can make a pretty solid box of mac and cheese.”

“That you can,” Sylvie nodded.

Loki took another swig of his drink, polishing off his glass. His expression turned wistful as he called for another. 

“You know, this is the first time in years I think I’ve had dinner with someone else.”

“Really?” Sylvie asked before racking through her memory and realizing it probably was for her too. If silently scarfing down a peanut butter sandwich in a crowded break room didn’t count. 

“Really,” Loki nodded.

“No dates?”

Loki grinned, “We usually skip this part.”

“Ugh, trust me I know. The first few weeks of us living together were dreadful. You were cycling through them so fast I was worried you were going to run out of people on campus you hadn’t fucked by the end of the semester.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Loki protested. 

“You were so loud,” Sylvie groaned, burying her face in her hands.

“Oh trust me, they were louder,” Loki winked. 

“Gross,” Sylvie shuddered. 

The waitress came and poured Loki another glass, topping up Sylvie’s as well. 

“Your family doesn’t eat together?” she asked once the woman was gone. Whenever she pictured Loki’s family she always an implicit image of them around a dinner table. The perfect Rockwellian image of a family. 

Leaning back in his chair Loki ran a hand across his neck.  The humour of his expression melted away.  He tilted his head as if he was considering something. 

“We aren’t really that type of family. My mother, she tried to get us to be, even somehow made us all eat together for Sunday dinner. Gave the staff the night off and cooked for us herself. She made this amazing chicken and potatoes. I don’t know what she put in it, but it was incredible. Almost as good as this.  But after she, um, after she died, the rest of us, I guess we all just stopped trying.” 

Unconsciously Sylvie felt her forehead crease in sympathy, but Loki quickly dismissed it with a wave.

“It was great,” he laughed, obviously terse. “Much better really. We all got to eat whenever we wanted, whatever we wanted. It was wonderful. Far more convenient.”

The image of a teenage Loki eating dinner alone in a giant empty dining room suddenly formed itself in Sylvie’s mind. The loneliness of just the vision pressed on her as she tried to give him a reassuring smile, it was hard against the weight of her certainty that he was repeating someone else's justification. And that he believed it enough to have simply assumed she had no interest in his company.

“I think I like this better.”

“This food is hard to beat,” Loki agreed. 

“Not that, although the food is great, I mean eating with someone else.”

Loki’s face lit up, but just as quickly he tried to contain his excitement under his unconcerned smirk. The switch was almost endearing. 

“I suppose,” he teased, “even if my company is stubborn as a mule.”

Sylvie scowled at him. 

“And has an odd fixation with the bus.”

Her scowl deepened.

“It’s not a fixation! I just like the bus.”

“Why? From what you’ve told me, there are no possible upsides. In your own words, it’s slow and crowded, it never-”

“The bus costs $3.25.” 

Loki paused, clearly trying to work out the thought himself but coming up with nothing.

“So?” he pushed.

“So, that’s it. If you pay $3.25 you get to ride the bus. No one is going to ask you for anything more, or expect anything else. For $3.25 they take you where you need to go.”

She stared at her as if she had suddenly grown two heads.

“You do know getting a ride is free, right?”

“Nothing is free.”

His expression softened as he seemed to mentally put two pieces together. 

“This is why you didn’t want a ride. You thought I would ask for something in return for it.”

“It would be your right,” Sylvie contended. 

Loki leaned over the table, holding eye contact with Sylvie with such a keen focus it made her slightly stir in her seat. It was uncomfortable, or perhaps unfamiliar would be the more apt term. She couldn’t place another point where anyone had given her such close examination with anything rather than derision.  

“Sylvie, I’m never going to expect anything from you over something as small as a ride. You’ve given me plenty, and I’ve taken far more.” 

Sylvie didn’t know if she believed him. But to her own surprise, she found she wanted to.

As they left the restaurant Sylvie felt full. The pleasant weight of wine and a full stomach in her, and as Loki wrapped her coat around her shoulder the rustling of something else she couldn’t name, but adored the feeling of. She didn’t know if it was the liquor, or just her, but something in her wanted to lean into the feeling. With lowered inhibitions she realized what she wanted was to lean closer to Loki. 

They decided to take a cab home. Loki offered to pay, but even mildly drunk Sylvie was insistent on covering her share. As they flew through the city, she felt Loki tentatively reach a hand across the seat between them to meet hers. With his palm brushing hers, she floated all the way home.

The next day when the hangover and anxiety came rushing in, Sylvie assumed she would never feel that way again. That the prior night was a brief glow of a dream that would fade into a solitary memory with time. But an echo of the feeling came back the next night when she found him once again waiting for her in the parking lot after her shift, and every night after when he sat, parked in the same spot, waiting expectantly. 

Loki continued to improve at cooking. He was capable enough now to look up his own recipes, and only really needed Sylvie when he stumbled across a step he hadn’t done before. She felt an odd sense of pride in his success, but an odder sense of dread that he wasn’t going to need her anymore. 

Loki seemed to be able to tell, and had begun asking her for help on things she knew he knew how to do. She was going to scold him for it, but his askings gave her an excuse to cook with him, and she couldn’t bring herself to complain about that. 

They had started eating together too. Not every night, but what was rapidly becoming most of them. Neither of them talked about the change. It was as if an unspoken pact had been made that night between them, and discussing it would cause it to shatter. 

It was almost nice. It was almost comfortable.

The problem was things being good always stressed Sylvie out. She knew, better than most, that eventually the good was going to end. And the longer they lasted, the more it hurt when they did.

Her dread for the inevitable pain of the end quickly spread into every part of her life. Infecting everything it touched. Every moment she knew she should enjoy. Listening to Loki belt out a slightly off key rendition of a Fleetwood Mac song, sipping on a cup of tea with him on a quiet morning they both happened to not have class, watching him utterly destroy a chicken quesadilla trying to flip it. It was all tainted by the cold stone rolling through Sylvie’s stomach that cried out to for her to pull back to protect herself whenever her mind knew a moment of quiet. 

She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised it chased her into the night as well. 

She hadn’t had nightmares this bad in years, she had foolishly thought she had grown past them, but tonight’s sent her crashing back in time, year after year.

She hadn’t seen Loki all day. Which was fine, she reminded herself. He was just a friend, she shouldn’t expect to see him every day.

He hadn’t picked her up either, which was also fine. He had sent her a text apologizing and offering to pay for a cab, which Sylvie wholly refused, reminding him of her love of the bus. He hadn’t responded to the message.

It was stupid how such little things could send Sylvie spiralling so quickly.

Tonight’s terror was a familar one. For years and years there had been a time she couldn’t escape it. She thought she had finally buried it, killed it. But evidently, it had survived within her subconscious. Waiting for her to open herself up, just a crack, to remind her of the pain that came with it.

It always started at the same moment. Sitting on the stairs in her pink pajamas with the little white moons on them. The police at her door, rain crashing down on the roof. Her babysitter sobbing so hard one of the policemen had to pull her away. The awkward glances they all shared before the social worker showed up and asked her if she knew what dying meant. 

That wasn’t even the worst of it. She could manage a memory. What was worse was every time it ended, every time she thought she was free of the immediate rush of pain and despair, it would start again. Over and over. Nothing she could do to change it, or run from it. Just a constant wave, washing on top of her again and again. The best she could manage was waking herself, but even as she did, the feelings stayed locked within her for days after. 

It was 3 am when she finally managed it this time. Sylvie groaned as she checked the time on her phone. She had an early class in the morning, and a late shift at work. She desperately needed sleep. But the thought of risking going back to that place, to that point again, sent her stumbling out of bed and into the kitchen.

She didn’t know why she was drawn there. She supposed she felt more rejected from the space she was in, then pulled to anything else. Her room felt too small, the quiet too stifling. As she crossed through the threshold she flicked on a few lights.  

She was surprised to find Loki standing there, staring at his phone. Only looking up at her when her presence was announced by the creak of the floorboards. He looked dreadful, his hair was a mess and his eyes were red and bloodshot. But still he managed a small smile when he noticed Sylvie.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked. His voice was raspy. 

“Apparently not. You?”

Loki lifted his arms as if to demonstrate. She nodded with silent understanding, wondering if she should give him space given his obvious distress, but the thought of returning to her dark empty room pushed her deeper into the kitchen.

Slowly Sylvie took a seat up on the counter across from Loki. Getting closer she could see tears still pooling in his eyes. Unconsciously she leaned closer to him. 

“You okay?” she asked, despite all the obvious signs he wasn’t.

“Fine,” Loki sniffed.

“Liar.”

Loki let out a watery laugh. 

“Still won’t give me an inch.”

“Never,” Sylvie promised.

Loki leaned against the opposite counter and dropped his gaze. He gripped the counter so hard his knuckles turned white.

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Wouldn’t change anything,” she shrugged dismissively. 

“No, but it might help.”

She gave him a moment to answer. When he didn’t she decided to switch tactics.

“Want to learn how to make something new?” she offered.

“Now?” Loki choked in surprise, even through it he sounded slightly relieved at the concept.

“Why not, I mean neither of us can sleep.”

“Fair,” Loki laughed. It sounded more genuine, making Sylvie feel as if she stepped into sunlight. “What are we making?”

“Hot chocolate,” Sylvie noted, jumping off the counter to grab a pot.

“I haven’t had it since I was a kid,” Loki shook his head.

“I used to make it a lot. It’s apparently good for nightmares.”

Loki glanced at her, something knowing in his eyes, so she averted her gaze back to the task at hand.

“Um- why don’t you grab two mugs.”

He did, picking a thick solid green one for himself and a taller sage one with white roses climbing the side for her. Sylvie smiled. It was her favourite.

“To measure, I just fill them with milk,” Sylvie swallowed, “but leave a bit of room on top.”

Loki grabbed the jug of milk out of the fridge and absently followed her instructions. She emptied both mugs into the pot and turned on the stove top.

“It needs to warm,” she explained flatly, if she had been more awake she would have figured that Loki probably already knew that.

“Hence the ‘ hot.’”

It was a dumb joke but Sylvie still laughed. She knew she wouldn’t have if anyone else had made it. After her laughter faded, silence hung between them for a moment that seemed to stretch endlessly.

“My mom died today,” Loki eventually cut.

The sudden change in topic, combined with the echo of her nightmare made Sylvie’s heart stop.

“I mean not today. But this day, a year ago.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sylvie said. Even though she hated when people said that to her.

Loki nodded. His eyes looked so lost Sylvie felt a pull in herself to share she hadn’t in a long time.

“My-“ she choked out. Sixteen years later every time she tried to say it she still got a lump in her throat, “my parents died when I was really young. It sucks.”

Loki’s brow furrowed, he seemed to study her for a moment.

“I was going to say that I’m sorry too.”

“But it sounds wrong,” Sylvie nodded.

“Because then the other person tries to reduce it.”

“To take the guilt off.”

“Which sucks.”

“Yep.”

Sylvie looked back at Loki, seeing a new glimmer in his eyes.

“I was adopted too,” he eventually let out. “Not under your circumstances. My parents, they just didn’t want me.”

Staring at Loki with new eyes, Sylvie felt a new degree of recognition twisting between them. 

She pushed towards him like a moth to flame.

“I didn’t know,” Loki explained. “Not really, until I was almost seventeen. Found out by accident. I don’t think they were ever going to tell me if I didn’t.”

“That’s awful.”

Loki ran a hand through his hair, combing through his raven locks with an absent focus. 

“They thought it was protecting me, or at least that’s what they said. I didn’t see it that way. I was furious. Lashed out at everything, everyone. I was so sure this was the proof of the limit of their love I had always felt, I was determined to find it just to show them it wasn't all in my head. I said some horrible things, did some awful stuff, just pushed everyone as hard as I could in search of it. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised I found it.”

Loki looked down in shame.

“My mother tried. She always tried. Tried to make us a family. Tried to make me her son. I told her that I didn’t care. That she couldn’t change who I was, or who she was. That she wasn’t my mother and never would be.”

He swallowed back tears, wiping his nose.

“Then she got sick and I pretended not to care. Avoided her, avoided all of it. The doctors, they kept saying she would get better, that there was something else they could try. And when those promises ran out my father bought her into every trial and treatment. Everything with a hint of potential. I was so sure that they were going to find something. That with all his money and all his power my father wouldn’t let her die. But apparently you can’t buy off breast cancer.” 

He inhaled with a sharp breath.

“By the time I realized what I’d done, how sick she really was, it was too late. She was barely lucid when I finally showed up. I begged her for forgiveness, but I don’t think she even heard me. She died thinking I hated her,” Loki choked through sobs. “After that, I couldn’t stay in that house any more. I tried, I thought that staying would help make things better with whatever shards of a family I had left, but I just couldn’t live with the memories. Of the constant reminder looking around and realizing she wasn’t there held. So I did what I’d always done when things got difficult. I ran away.”

“You didn’t run-” Sylvie attempted, but Loki shook his head in disgust.

“My mother saved me. She loved me like I was her own. I owe her everything I have, and I had the audacity to be mad at her for trying to protect me.

Sylvie shifted through the internalized hate in his words, she already knew it too well.

“You had a right to be mad,” she repeated. “I know that doesn’t change what you did but I think it’s important to remember.”

“They saved me,” Loki spoke with a shake of his head as if he was repeating someone else's words. “Without them I would be nothing.”

With an inhale Sylvie made a split second decision. It seemed so simple now she couldn’t comprehend why at every point, with every person she had ever met, she had decided not to. The fear that sputtured through her tongue as she tried to form the words reminded her, but she pushed through regardless.

“I wasn’t adopted.”

Loki’s face blanched in obvious horror at his own words, a silent assumption he had made unraveling in front of him.

“I had no other family and by the time my parents died the golden years of adoptions were long behind me. I was put in the system and apparently had ‘difficulties with the adjustment,’ so I got bounced around a lot. Whoever was generous enough to take me,” Sylvie scoffed with a miserable laugh.

She hated talking about it, so she very rarely did. The last time she could remember was a mandated school counselor in her sophomore year. She had cried then, she was determined not to now. 

It was the past. It didn’t matter. It couldn’t hurt her now. Or at least shouldn’t. No one controlled her life any more. Couldn’t upset it with a singular call because of a mis-step just a bit too far over the line. No one gave her anything so she didn’t need to keep dropping her head and biting her tongue as permanent payment. She could take care of herself, so she wouldn’t need to rely on anyone who would inevitably abandon her ever again.

“There was this one family,” she continued, wiping a strand of hair out of her face, “the Wilsons. Real WASPy types. Rich too. Had a massive house, with a pool and everything. They fostered a whole swath of us, six in total, plus the two they had on their own. I was the oldest at fourteen. All the social workers kept telling me how rare it was for a kid of my age to find a place like this willing to take them. How grateful I should be to them. All of the younger kids, they were so excited when they first saw where they were going to get to live. They had their own rooms for the first time for most of them, all these new toys. They were too young to notice the fact that the couple barely spoke to us. That they sometimes would forget to feed us. We were like pets to them, cute to look at, but an obvious annoyance to actually take care of. That was when I first started learning to cook, just to make sure the younger ones weren’t going to bed without something resembling dinner.”

Loki winced with disgust, but Sylvie was relieved to find no pity in his gaze.

“Then the holidays began to roll around, and all the little kids were basically bouncing off the walls. Because it was all decorated and Santa was coming, and the Wilsons, they were having this big Christmas party they keep talking about. Most of them had never gotten anything remotely like it before, but had heard story after story about Christmases like it. The stuff of fairy tales. So finally it was Christmas day, and the party was beautiful. There was this massive tree all decorated and all these presents and just trays and trays of food. The Wilsons, they got all of us dressed up like we were the bloody Von Trapp children and trotted us out in front of the whole room of all of their guests. Made this big, beautiful, speech about how brave we all were for overcoming such hardships. How strong we were. You should have heard the applause at the end of it. Not for us though, but for them. For their generosity, taking us in. For accepting such damaged children.”

Sylvie clenched her jaw.

“Then the speech was over, and they sent us all back to our rooms. We were props, completing the decor of a generous family. We had served our purpose, payed our debt. The look on those poor kids' faces when they realized they weren't going to be able to actually go to that stupid party. That they were spending the night, alone. That they had been used, again. If that wasn’t enough to kill whatever gratitude I had left, then them expecting a thank you for being offered their ‘leftovers,’ their scraps , did it.”

“That’s awful,” Loki breathed.

“Guess what I’m trying to say is I’m over believing that it's a privilege to be tolerated.”

He looked like he was going to say something, but before he could Sylvie noticed their milk boiling over, splashing and sizzling on the burner.

“Shit,” she yelled, pulling it off.

Their milk was split, but neither of them could find the will to make a new one, so they mixed in the chocolate powder and stirred until it looked passably smooth. Absently Sylvie poured it into their two mugs and grabbed the can of the whip cream from the fridge. 

“I still detest the idea of eating anything from a can,” Loki groaned.

“This is the best part,” Sylvie smiled, topping off Loki’s mug.

Grabbing her own she made her way over to the couch, plopping herself down. Loki tentatively followed, sitting as close to her as she thought physically possible.

The quiet returned as Sylvie took a sip of her drink. It was sweet, and rich just the way she liked it. The warmth swirled around her belly, relaxing her enough to release a yawn.

Loki smiled, grabbing the blanket off the side of the couch and throwing it over her. Sylvie pushed it off with a snarl, but he just shook his head and smiled. Beneath it Sylvie could still see the sadness in his eyes.

“I’m sorry about your mom,” Sylvie whispered.

Loki’s expression dropped. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his phone.

“I just thought they would call.”

“Who?”

“My dad, my brother. Anyone,” Loki's voice cracked. “I don't know what I thought they would say, or what I would have, but I just thought they’d call.”

Her heart shattered for him. Without thought she wrapped him in her arms. It was a bit awkward. He was bigger than her, and so tense his whole body felt stiff, but after a moment his face twisted in anguish and he melted into sobs in her grasp. She held onto him as tightly as she could, running her hands through his hair and whispering quiet reassurances to him.

“I just wish I’d told her sooner,” he choked out, “I wish she knew how sorry I was. For all of it.” 

“She knew,” Sylvie whispered. She didn’t know how she was so sure. But she was.

Eventually Loki’s sobs quieted and his shaking stilled. She figured he must have fallen asleep as she pressed a light kiss into his forehead. At some point she must have fallen asleep too, she couldn’t remember when, but when she woke up she was still curled against Loki’s chest, and the blanket she had kicked off was pulled around her shoulders.

It took her a long moment to realize her nightmares had never come back.

After that day, touches between them began lasting longer, eyes would flicker down to lips whenever they were close. Sylvie didn’t know what they were. Even if they were anything at all. But she had started genuinely pausing when someone at work would ask if she was seeing anyone, and found herself smiling at the prospect of knowing he would be there when she got home.

It was a terrible idea, dating her roommate. And she felt sick everytime she considered what would happen if they actually did start dating when they inevitably broke up. Or the equally terrifying prospect that she was reading all of this incorrectly. It would make things painfully awkward, worse inescapably awkward. They were stuck living together until at least June, and living with him after being rejected sounded torturous.

These thoughts would storm when she was at work, or beneath her consciousness in more boring classes. The only time they seemed to silence was when she was with him. Which was becoming more and more rare. 

Mid-terms were coming, and Sylvie spent every free moment she had studying. And despite his many insistences, he didn’t need to, Loki did end up cramming most nights as well. Days flurried by until it was nearly the holidays. Which meant Loki was leaving for three entire weeks, spending the break in Cancun with his family. Sylvie knew it was a silly thing to dread, but she was going to miss him. And in a softer, quieter, part of her, she knew what they had built, whatever it was, was delicate. Him leaving the small reality they had constructed around them in the walls of this apartment, it would wake him up to who Sylvie actually was, and what he could actually have. Whatever spell that had been laid over time that made him even appear in any way interested in her would shatter. 

She wanted to cling to the moments they had before he left, but they kept slipping through her fingers like sand. Christmas eve came far too fast and Sylvie had a shift in about an hour. The holiday pay was good, plus it gave her coworkers an opportunity to spend the day with their families, which they appreciated, but she was going to miss seeing Loki off to the airport. No matter how insistent he was that he was fine having to say goodbyes before she left for work it trampled her heart in her chest. 

“Have a good Christmas,” Sylvie smiled from the door, even as she pushed back tears. 

“I’ll miss you.” 

He spoke it as if it was a promise.

She didn’t think she had ever been missed before.

“I’ll miss you too,” Sylvie nodded. “You’ll text me as soon as you land?”

“Of course. I really can’t give you money for a cab?”

“and steal my chance to take the bus. Absolutely not.”

Loki chuckled, it came out high and strained like a string that had been pulled too tight. Bringing him close Sylvie wrapped her arms behind his neck. She tried to breathe in every part of him. His touch, his smell, the feeling of his hair brushing against her cheek. She didn’t want to ever let go. She wanted all time to stop at that moment. But it didn’t, and he was going to miss his flight, and she was going to be late for work if she didn’t let him go. So tentatively she pulled away. 

“I’ll see you soon,” he nodded.

She nodded silently, if she attempted words she wasn’t sure what would come out.

Work was a blur of filling drinks and dropping fries. Their ice cream machine went down, twice. Some kid threw his hamburger at Sylvie. So by the end of it, she was more than ready to go home. The dread of entering an empty apartment didn’t hit her until the bus ride home when she opened her phone to find no new messages on it. Closing it she tucked it back in her pocket. Logically she knew his phone had likely died, or lost reception but a familiar voice inside whispered that hadn’t even been a day and he had already forgetten about her. 

Her mind was so far away as she stepped off the bus she barely noticed the flashing lights growing from where she was walking towards until she connected them to her apartment building.

Her heart stopped. And her mind could only conjure one thought.

Loki.

He was fine, she tried to remind herself as she took off down the street. He would be off his plane now, landing in a different country. Far, far, away from whatever was going on here. But then she remembered her empty screen. His promise to her. 

Maybe his plane was delayed , her mind pleaded for calm.

But if it had been he would have told her. Probably would have sent her some quip about it because of how early she had made him leave for the airport. 

She opened her phone, slammed in his digits and hit call. After a few agonizingly long rings she was met with a robotic voice telling her that this number was not available.

She wanted to scream as she sprinted towards the door. She didn't know what she thought she could do now, but she had to get to him. A large fireman grabbed her a step before she made it, and yanked her back.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.

“This is my apartment!” 

“What unit?”

“809.”

His expression softened. With sympathy. No with pity. Her mind flickered back to the officers at her door all those years ago. 

“My-“ she stammered, “someone is in there. I need to get to him.”

“This building has been-” the firefighter started to explain.

“Sylvie,” a familiar voice called from behind her.

She whipped herself around and met the most beautiful sight in the world. Loki standing a few feet away, looking a tad guilty, but blissfully unhurt. Completely forgetting her argument the fireman Sylvie ran to him almost knocking him over as she rushed into his arms.

He held her close, and the rest of the world melted away into a distant blur.

“He was here, ” her mind repeated over and over until it finally registered, a self fulfilling loop.

She hadn’t even noticed she had started crying until she saw the stains on his shirt. Embarrassed, she sniffled and wiped her eyes.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she cried, “You’re supposed to be on a plane.”

“I missed my flight.”

“How?” Sylvie choked, under her insistence he had left hours before even the most liberal estimate of the time he would need.

“Not going to the airport might have had something to do with it.”

Sylvie looked up to study him.

“What?” she asked softly.

Loki ran a hand across her cheek, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. 

“I was waiting for my cab when it occurred to me, the thought of spending three more weeks with you was far more appealing then Cancun with my father.”

“You gave up Cancun to spend Christmas in our shitty apartment?”

Loki swallowed nervously.

“I was going to surprise you. I had this whole plan. I was going to make this big Christmas dinner, had the place all decorated. But, well, things might have gotten a tad out of hand.”

Sylvie glanced at Loki, then the fire trucks, then back at Loki.

“You’re kidding?” she prayed.

“I wish I was.”

“You burned down our apartment?!” she all but screamed.

“I didn’t burn it down , I was told all of the damage was strictly cosmetic.”

“Oh my god, Loki,” Sylvie groaned, burying her face in his chest, “how many times did I tell you about that timer?”

“I know,” he sighed. “But there was just so much to do, and I wanted it to be perfect.”

Sylvie didn't know whether she wanted to kiss him or slap him. Maybe both. Definitely both. Later she would be worried about her few belongings, but for now she was just wholly relieved that he was okay.

“That’s almost sweet,” Sylvie sighed.

“You the tenants of unit 809?” a firefighter asked approaching them.

“We are,” Loki nodded.

“I got some good news and some bad news,” he noted, his expression turning firm. “The good news is that the damage doesn’t seem too bad, but the bad is that we’re going to need to run some more tests before we can clear you for reentry. With the holidays it might be a few days, so you’re going to need to find somewhere else to sleep tonight.”

“Great,” Sylvie groaned, “we’re never going to find a place on Christmas eve.” 

“We’ll figure something out,” Loki promised, before looking around and running his hand along the back of his neck. “I should probably mention though. I left my phone inside. And my keys”

Sylvie smirked.

As she expected, Loki had never been on the bus before, and seemed utterly bewildered by the whole affair. Starting with him trying to Venmo his fare to the bus driver, before Sylvie dropped a token for him. 

“So it just goes through the same route, every day?” he stammered.

They weren’t really going anywhere in particular, but it was cold outside and Sylvie figured anywhere was better then standing outside their apartment in the snow. So they had gotten on the first bus that had come.”

“Basically,” Sylvie managed from where her head was resting on his shoulder.

“What if you need to go somewhere else?”

“Then you find another bus, or walk from the closest stop.”

Loki shook his head in disbelief, causing Sylvie to slightly laugh.

At some point along their route they passed a pizza place that looked half decent and by some miracle was open on Christmas eve, so they decided to get dinner as they regrouped and tried to find a place for the night.

The resutrant was near empty, and the staff seemed vaguely annoyed they were there but the food was delicious. Or at least she thought it was. She could have just been hungry. Her and Loki inhaled their first pie before deciding to order another two. While they waited for more food Sylvie began the long process calling every hotel in a twenty-mile radius. The rejections were so formulaic, she was basically on autopilot by the time she got to seventeen. 

“Nothing?” Loki asked as she hung up on their most recent candidate.

An acne-faced teenager wordlessly dropped another pizza between them, before speeding off. 

“Nothing,” Sylvie groaned.

“Here,” Loki extended his hand, “let me try.”

“I don’t think you can magically conjure more rooms,” Sylvie muttered, “but you’re free to give it a go” 

Loki punched in a few numbers before lifting the phone to his ear as Sylvie grabbed a slice. It was greasy and flimsy, flopping as she lifted it. Just how she liked it. Ripping off a bite the cheese stretched all the way from the table to her teeth.

“Hello,” Loki started, apparently getting through to reception. “Yes, I understand you’ve already received a call from this number. But this is Loki Odinson calling.”

The noise of someone talking came out of her phone, too quiet for Sylvie to hear it, but from Loki’s words she could follow the majority of the conversation.

“Yes that Odinson.”

….

“I do believe I remember your business from my father’s portfolio.” 

….

“Yes,” he nodded,  “I’m going to need accommodations for two tonight.”

Loki rolled his eyes as the concierge squabbled, on and on.

“So you do have a room,” he added after a moment, filling Sylvie with a glimmer of hope,  “interesting considering that’s not what you told my girlfriend a few moments ago.”

The mention of her as Loki’s girlfriend slipped in so naturally she almost didn’t catch it. When she did, she felt her heart flutter and a blush climb to her cheeks.

“Yes, I know you didn’t know who she was,” he scolded, “but I’d hope a company of your standing would treat all potential clients with the same courtesy.”

…

“I’m glad you are very sorry, you should be. We’ll be there in an hour, I trust our room will be prepared by then.”

…

“Excellent.”

He hung up and handed Sylvie her phone back. 

“We’re in,” Loki smiled.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” Sylvie laughed. 

“The name does carry some perks.” 

The hotel was about twenty minutes away, so they decided to walk. The roads were near silent, with the exception of the stray car zooming by. The air was crisp and cool, and as they strolled heavy flakes of snow began twirling towards the ground. Loki kept his hands pressed in his pockets for warmth. His hair caught the glow of christmas lights hanging off of lamp posts and in store fronts. It washed over his skin, lighting the soft flush of his cheeks from the wind.

He was utterly beautiful. 

As they wandered forward a nagging question kept pulling at Sylvie. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to go? I know it’s late, but you still might be able to catch a flight.”

“Sylvie-”

“It’s really nice you offered to stay. But with our apartment and-”

“Sylvie.”

“It’s just, I wouldn’t be mad if you decided to spend Christmas with your family.”

Loki glanced down at her, eyes fond and lips turned into a gentle grin. 

“I’m exactly where I want to be,” Loki smiled.

“Walking through the snow in the middle of the night to a random hotel because our apartment caught on fire?” Sylvie gaffed.

Loki reached his hand out of his pocket and took hers, giving it a small squeeze. 

“With you.”

Despite the cold of the night, Sylvie felt warmed from the inside out. 

By the time they reached the hotel, she was exhausted. The weight of her day at work was still crushing her, and the adrenaline of the last few hours was beginning to wear off. She nearly needed to lean on Loki just to keep her up right as they reached the front desk. 

The lobby was gorgeous, a fine melding of marble, gold and green. A chandelier twinkled above them, refracting light into small pockets of rainbows on the floor over a big cursive logo T. 

“Mr. Odinson,” the receptionist stammered, getting to his feet as they approached. Getting closer Sylvie noticed a nametag reading Randy in gold cursive pinned to his chest. 

“Just Loki,” he bit.

“Of course, my apologies,” Randy noted, bowing his head.

“Our room?” Loki asked, skimming by the pleasantries. 

Randy smiled, sliding a pair of matching keys over the desk.

“The honeymoon suite. Our finest room.”

Loki blanched in shock.

“Where did you put us?” he demanded.

“It’s a beautiful room,” the receptionist stammered, obviously caught off guard by his reaction, “the only one we had open for tonight given the short notice. I thought you, and your girlfriend, might enjoy the um, romance, of it.”

Loki groaned, dropping his head in defeat, causing Randy to visibly panic.

“It’s fine,” Sylvie smiled, resting her head on Loki’s shoulder, “it actually sounds lovely.”

“Great,” Randy breathed in obvious relief, before Loki could get out another protest he shoved their cards forward, “enjoy your stay. 

As promised their room was indeed exquisite. It was huge, larger than even their apartment. From the top floor, the view made the rest of the world feel so small and far away. Sylvie smiled, as she stared down, she liked the feeling. 

Her focus was admittedly drawn to the bed. As soon as she saw it she all but ran to throw herself on top of it. It seemed to swell around her, meeting her every ache with a soothing touch and support. She was worried she was going to fall asleep right there, but Loki standing awkwardly in the center of the room was enough to get her sitting up.

“There’s a couch in the living room, I could-”

“Loki,” Sylvie cut off. 

He shut himself up. Mentally Sylvie scoffed, she supposed there was a first time for everything. 

“Come here,” she smiled. 

His face broke into a broad grin as he wordlessly followed her command. Tentatively he began to unbutton his shirt, Sylvie watched in near awe before realizing she was gawking and breaking her gaze. 

“It’s Christmas,” Loki noted awkwardly after a moment, letting his shirt hang open as he leaned down to untie his shoes.

Sylvie glanced at the alarm clock across the room. It read 12:03. He was right. 

“It is,” Sylvie nodded. 

Loki kicked off his shoes before taking a seat next to her on the bed. 

“I had this big plan,” Loki sighed, sounding almost wistful. 

“I know, the one that ended in you burning down our apartment.”

“I didn’t burn it down.”

“Tell that to our apartment.”

“Still won’t give me an inch.”

“Never.”

Loki smiled at her, it made Sylvie slightly blush.

“I was going to pick you up from work,” Loki continued.

“Depriving me of my beloved bus ride.”

He shook his head in amusement.

“Having done it, I can now say, I don’t see the appeal.”

“It grows on you.”

“So does a rash, which I’m pretty sure I got from riding the bus.”

Sylvie laughed, bumping his shoulder with hers. 

“I was going to have the table all set,” he swallowed, “and I had all these recipes I was going to make. I even talked to my grandmother for the first time in years to get the recipe for potatoes my mom used to make.”

“Sounds like quite the gesture,” she whispered. She couldn’t remember a time anyone else had put this much thought into doing something for her. With a bit more consideration she didn't think there was one.

“Wait till I get to the best part,” he stuck his hands in his pockets, “after dessert, I was going to put this up.” 

Pulling out his hand he opened it to reveal a very crumpled, slightly ashy, piece of mistletoe in his palm. 

“Very romantic,” Sylvie smiled, breathlessly leaning closer to Loki. 

“That was the idea.”

“And then-?” she prompted, watching as he crossed the remainder of the space separating them. 

“And then, I was going to kiss you.”

“That would have been nice,” she whispered.

“Yeah?” Loki asked hopefully.

“Yeah.” 

He lifted the mistletoe above them.

“It still could be-”

Before he could even finish his sentence Sylvie’s lips were on his. He tasted like a fresh sprig of mint and cedar. The feeling of his lips on hers, filled Sylvie with warmth and light. She felt Loki’s hands cradle against the back of her head, guiding her to match his every touch and movement, as she pressed herself deeper and deeper into his lips.

Loki laughed in apparent disbelief as he finally came up for air, wrapping an arm around Sylvie he pulled her after him and fell back into bed. 

“Merry Christmas, Sylvie,” he whispered, eyes flooded with adoration as Sylvie brushed her nose against his. 

And for the first time that Sylvie could remember, it was. 

Chapter Text

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Full Moon

“Excuse me, good sir. Is there a witch in this town?”

“For sure there is! Just take the main road, turn left after three blocks, and there you’ll find a witch’s den. There are like six of them in that alley. Now, if you excuse me, I’m in a bit of a rush and need to go,” the man said.

Loki stood on the sidewalk, dressed in his finest, briefcase in hand, completely disappointed.

It was still early, so he chose to try in the next town.

-

“Just one more question, dear,” he asked the waitress after finishing his lunch and paying for it. “Is there a witch in this town?”

“Oh yes,” she answered, “there are four of them, but I’m not sure where they are. Though I can ask my boss, he surely knows,” she smiled happily. 

“No need,” he rushed to say. “Do you have any idea if the next town has any witches?”

“I don’t know, sir, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said with a smile. “Thanks anyway.”

Loki gave the waitress a good tip and made his way to the next town.

-

“My name is Loki Odinsson, I just graduated from the witches’ school in Vanaheim, and I wanted to offer my service in this town,” he said to the woman behind the desk in the city hall.

She opened a drawer on her desk, looked for a piece of paper, and put it in front of Loki for him to see.

“We have fifteen witches already in this town and a waiting list with another five. You can add your name to the list and we’ll call you when there’s a spot free.”

Loki thanked her kindly and looked at the sun, slowly falling to the horizon. He still had time to make it to the next town.

-

He was wrong, night had fallen and there was barely anyone on the streets, and even more, he had nowhere to sleep, so he roamed around looking for a place to stay.

“You all right? You seem lost,” a man with grey hair and a mustache asked him when Loki walked past his front yard.

“I’m looking for a place to stay,” Loki answered. “Do you know where I can find one?”

“There are not many places here,” the man answered approaching from the entrance. “It’s a small town. What is your business here, young man?”

“I am a warlock looking for a place to offer my services, but apparently, all towns are filled with witches already.”

“Oh, is that so? We only have one.”

And that caught Loki’s attention.

“Only one?” He asked to be sure.

“Yes, only one,” the man confirmed.

“Well, that’s perfect!” Loki cherished. “I might stay here then. Do you know anyone who might be renting a room or a small place to put a store or something like it?”

“I have a spare room, actually. I’m Mobius by the way,” the man introduced himself and Loki shook his hand.

“Loki Odinsson, warlock just graduated from Vanaheim.”

“Oh, Vanaheim, a fancy place that one. I didn’t know you were called warlock these days…” 

“It’s the proper term for a male presenting witch,” Loki explained.

“Sure, buddy. Come in, let me show you the room. I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I have to clean it, but you can stay in the house tonight and settle down soon if you like it…”

Waning Crescent

A bug buzzed by next to him and Loki rolled the magazine he was reading to try and hit the bug. He made several attempts but the bug escaped anyway leaving Loki with a smug smile on his face.

“Is that my magazine?” Mobius asked behind him, extending a hand impatiently for Loki to return it.

“I still don’t understand,” Loki said, handing back the magazine and leaning back in the chair, enjoying the afternoon sun and breeze in Mobius’ garden. “Why do you keep working as an accountant when you could open a shop by the sea and rent jet skis?”

“You know what I don’t understand? Why do you keep lounging in my garden when you have your own witches' business to attend?”

Loki sat up at his words, a grimace on his face now while Mobius sat down in a chair across from Loki and used the magazine to fan himself.

“There don’t seem to be many customers so far,” Loki excused himself, leaning back on the chair again and crossing his arms over his chest. “I even hung the sign outside, spread the word in the market, and put a notice outside the city hall.”

“And how many clients have you got this far?” Mobius insisted.

“Three,” Loki whispered through clenched teeth.

“Oh, wow, that’s really few people. I’ve heard the other witch it’s at full capacity, people have to queue to see her. I wonder what your problem is…”

 “I don’t have a problem!” Loki yelled offended. “It is the people from this town who’s far too used to this other witch…”

“The superior witch,” Mobius whispered carelessly reading his magazine.

“Have you met this… witch, Mobius?”

“Never,” the man said without looking at Loki, and a plan started to form in his head.

The very next day, Loki kept his shop closed and rush early in the morning to the hill where the witch ran her business. As Mobius had warned him, there were people already waiting outside to seek the witch's services. Loki was not willing to queue, so he left an illusion of himself there and went to have breakfast in a coffee shop nearby. He purchased an extra pastry and returned to the queue. To gladly realized it was about to be his turn.

A man exited the small hut, joyful, with a potion in his hand, and nodded at Loki. “Your turn next, sir.”

So Loki walked to the entrance. He opened the door carefully and hesitated there for a moment.

“Come in,” said a feminine voice from the inside, and Loki walked in like dragged by a spell.

The room was small and fresh as spring. A small table was placed in the middle with two chairs around it. Several shelves were arranged all over the room, filled with books, vials and jars, herbs, and tokens of different kinds.

Through a hallway that led outside the small room appeared a woman. Smaller than Loki, her yellow hair shone under the morning light that filtered through the window. Her skin was pale, showing off a petite, beautiful face and green eyes that left him stunned and speechless in the middle of the room.

The woman walked lightly to the table and sat in one of the chairs, pointing to the other.

“Sit down,” she said. “What can I do for you?”

It took Loki a moment to break out from the spell, he shook his head and wore a smile.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said placing a hand on his chest. “My name is Loki Odinsson, I just graduated from the witches' school in Vanaheim and I am, in fact, the new warlock in town,” he made a small bow for her and placed the pastry on the table. “For you.”

“Odinsson,” Sylvie repeated, looking distrustful at the pastry in front of her. “That’s a powerful name, why someone like you is opening a business in a small town like this?”

“Let’s say I had a… difference of opinion with my father,” he said, sitting down across from her. “It was my mother who eventually got me into the school. But that’s not what I came here for. I’ve been in this town for a few days already, and even when I’ve spread the word the better I could… You seem to have all the customers so far. How do you do it?”

“I’m just very good at what I do,” she answered, with a cynical smile.

“Oh, for sure! Tell me, from which school did you graduate?”

“I didn’t go to any witch school, I’m self-taught,” Sylvie answered with a pleased smile.

“You are- You taught yourself magic, spells, and potions?” Loki said bewildered. “That’s amazing,” he smiled, still stunned by the revelation. “You were someone’s apprentice or what?”

“My mother was a witch too, she left me all her books and I learned from them.”

“Oh, you’ve been doing this for long…?”

“Since I was a child,” she answered dryly. “Are we done with the interrogation, Loki?”

“We’re just getting to know each other, you know, as fellow witches. Now competitors in this town,” he offered her a smile, but she didn’t look amused at all. “Well then, since you look in a bit of a rush. I’ll go straight to the point,” he made a pause far too dramatic, leaned closer to her, and said in a low voice, “How do you get to have all the customers? Do you enchant them? Put something special in your potions, or-“

“Just because I’m self-taught and not from a prestigious school like you means I do some dirty work to get clients?” She said raising her voice.

“Do you?” Loki insisted and Sylvie flustered heavily.

She stood up from her chair, eyes burning and teeth clenched.

“Get out!” She yelled.

“Oh come on! Don’t tell me-“ he tried, but Sylvie took him by his arm and dragged him away.

“This is working hours, and since this is a very impolite social visit, you are officially wasting my time!”

Sylvie opened the door and shove him outside. Loki turned around to speak but she closed the door in his face.

“Fine!” Loki yelled upset, and he turned to leave, but on his way, he paraded in front of the queue waiting to be attended by Sylvie. “In case you haven’t heard…” he began. “There’s a new witch in town! Graduated from the prestigious school of Vanaheim, my shop is open to receive all of you, no queues there.”

He walked away, leaving the cot with the queue behind, not looking back.

New Moon

Sylvie was pleased that the scandal had been the last she saw of Loki Odinsson. She didn’t hear from or see him after that. She didn’t even care if he was taking clients from her, she was working at full capacity already, and sure her abilities as a witch were coveted by the whole town. So the existence of Loki soon vanished from her mind.

It was late at night when she heard some cats fighting outside her house. By the time she opened her front door, two cats ran away, leaving an injured black cat on her doorstep.

Sylvie had never been one for companions, she rather be by herself and take care of her own than take care of someone or something else. That’s why she had never held onto pets and even less for partners. But she wasn’t going to let an injured cat on its own either.

So she picked him up carefully, wary of a possible feral reaction, but the cat remained still, even stunned by her sudden presence and careful ways.

Inside, Sylvie cleaned and healed its wounds. Cleaned its dirty fur with a damp cloth and even fed the cat some leftovers of her meal. The whole time, the cat behaved in its most submissive way, which Sylvie thought was weird of a cat, but perhaps it was the pain.

She placed the cat in a crate, wrapped it in a blanket, and left it next to her bed. She contemplated the cat before she went to sleep. Its fur was as black as night and the eyes were bright forest green. She didn’t pay more attention as the cat remained calm and motionless in the crate, so she turned off the light and slept.

In the morning, she found the cat sleeping at the foot of the bed, curled in the blankets, sleeping soundly.

She made breakfast and fed the cat again. Before she started to go on her daily tasks like brewing potions, she opened the door for the cat to step outside, and as soon as it did, she closed the door behind and forgot about it.

But that wasn’t the last time she saw the cat as she had thought. It actually came back that same night, meowing outside until Sylvie put chopped meat on a plate and left it outside for the cat to eat.

And even a week after, when Sylvie had stopped feeding the cat in hopes it goes away, the cat kept visiting her in the afternoons, watching her groom her garden or eat on the porch. And stayed until nightfall when she turned inside leaving it outside.

As the weeks passed, Sylvie got used to the constant visits and started leaving food for the cat again, since it seemed impossible to get rid of it.

And that’s how it actually started, with Sylvie eating dinner on the porch and tossing bits to the cat. She then started to let him in, after realizing it was a male, on a cold stormy night. She started sharing a bit of her breakfast with the cat too and she even played with and pet him on lazy mornings and afternoons.

Sylvie also enjoyed how the cat always left during her working hours, allowing her to pour all her focus on brewing potions, preparing spells, and receiving clients. The cat would make her company during the hours she was free from work, but that didn’t last long either.

With the cold months arriving, the cat started spending more time inside, even during the morning when Sylvie would prepare potions. With the cauldron set by the window, she would fetch the ingredients from the cupboards and pantries, may they be on jars, vials, or hanging from the roof. Once gathered, Sylvie would add them in the exact portions, in the proper order, and for the cat to not meddle in the meantime, Sylvie would make a ball of yarn or any other object around to float for the cat to chase and play.

And with time, the cat, who Sylvie hadn’t named yet, would make her company during night and day. While she cook and sleep, while she worked and rested, while she sang and eat. The cat would stare at her, purr for her, and curl up with her.

A moonless night

“Good morning, Miss Brunhilde,” Sylvie greeted the old woman and invited her to sit down. “How are you feeling today?”

“I’m good, child, I’m good. Here, I brought you something,” she said, pulling a package out of her basket. “You are far too thin, Sylvie. You need to get some weight, so I brought you this fresh pheasant!”

“Oh, Miss Brunhilde, you really shouldn’t-“

“Nonsense, child!” The woman exclaimed placing the package in Sylvie’s hands and she promptly went to store it in the fridge. “I’ve known you for far too long and you know I like to take care of you.”

“That’s really sweet of you, miss Brunhilde.”

“Well, since you hardly charge for your work, I might keep you well-fed. Oh, since when do you have a cat?” The woman asked noticing the black animal napping by the window.

“Just a few weeks really. Now, tell me what can I do for you,” Sylvie pressed her.

“You know how sick my Astrid was, remember?” Sylvie nodded at her question. “She is not doing any better. The doctor says he can’t do anything else for her and she is going down and-“ her voice broke and the tears started falling down her wrinkled face. Sylvie placed a soft hand on the woman’s shoulder. “She barely eats, and she can’t get any sleep due to the pain. She is worse and worse by the day, and I’m afraid her time is running short,” wept the woman. “What am I to do if my Astrid dies? She’ll be gone and I’ll be left alone, oh.”

The old woman cried herself out, covering her face, yet the heavy tears slipped through her fingers. Sylvie caressed her back with soothing motions and offered a handkerchief.

While the woman controlled herself again, Sylvie went to the kitchen and prepared tea with a pinch of invigorating leaves and a tablespoon of honey that she gave the woman.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, it’s just-“

“Don’t be,” Sylvie rushed to say. “How long have you and Astrid been together?”

“Forty years,” the woman answered with a sob.

“I’m so sorry to hear about her health and I know… I know how hard is to lose someone you love. But… You had forty wonderful years together,” Sylvie said kindly, placing a hand on the woman’s forearm. “Forty years you both shared your lives, and when she leaves this world, she’ll take all the love you gave her during that time, and you’ll have all those memories to remember her by.”

Miss Brunhilde cried again, sobbing quietly, shaking lightly. 

“I can’t do anything for her health if the doctors say her decaying is due to old age… I can’t go against that. But I can give you a potion to help her with the pain. It’ll allow her to sleep at night and improve her appetite. The rest will be up to her and time,” Sylvie stood up as the woman took the first sip of the tea. By the time Sylvie was back with the potion, Miss Brunhilde seemed to be in a better state than a few minutes ago.

Sylvie accepted no payment for the potion, she and Miss Brunhilde share a tight hug outside the cot and bid farewell. When Sylvie entered her house again, the cat was nowhere to be found.

A knock on the door echoed later that night, right after Sylvie had finished her dinner. She rarely had visitors, and even rarely this late. She was even more surprised when it was Loki at her door.

“It’s you,” she said taken aback. “What was your name again?”

“Loki,” he answered weakly, and his face was a strange mix of regret and uneasiness.

“What… do you need?”

“I need to talk to you about something. Can I come in?” He asked in a whisper.

He was unwell, she could say by the way his eyes teared up and the extreme paleness of his face. So Sylvie opened the door wider and step aside to let him in. Before closing the door, she lingered there for a moment in hopes she would spot the cat that was still missing. Something really odd regarding their routine of the past weeks.

But it was even odder to have Loki Odinsson, the not-so-new witch in town in her house. She offered him a seat and pour him some tea.

“How’s the business?” She asked casually, sitting down in front of him.

“Not bad, neither that good,” he said with a shrug. Never leaving the brooding attitude he had arrived with.

“Well, you can’t blame me, I-“

“I wanted to apologize,” he interrupted her. “I’ve done something I shouldn’t have and now I am so regretful.”

“Okay, I know you were mean the first time you were here, but is not that bad actually-“

“Is not that,” he insisted. “I’ve been… watching you. Like, while you work, while you make your potions and-“

“You’re a creep or something?” She glared at him, the first alarm going off inside her.

“I guess, I don’t know, that wasn’t my intention. I only wanted to know why you were so successful, I wanted to know if you put something in your potions or do some magic spell on your clients and I thought I could get inside if I…” Loki stopped, the words caught in his throat.

“If you what?” Sylvie pressed him.

“If I turned into something insignificant, something you won’t mistrusts… and so I…”

“What did you do?”

“The cat, I was the cat,” Loki admitted.

“What cat?” Sylvie asked back, fearing his answer.

“The black cat you have been letting in the past weeks,” Loki swallowed hard. “It’s me, I shapeshifted into a cat and I started-“

“What?” Sylvie yelled and stood abruptly from her chair.

“I’m sorry, I really do! I meant no harm, I just wanted to-“

“I let you into my house!” She screamed. “I fed you, I… I let you sleep in my bed!”

“I know, I’m sorry. I never have done it before,” he said standing up, raising his hand in front of his chest. “Sylvie I’ve seen you work and you are amazing. The way you’ve mastered how to brew potions out of a book and the way you make healing spells- It’s not perfect for sure, but I could teach you-“

“You’re a creep and a liar!” She spat, taking some steps at him, while Loki took the same amount of steps back.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I just… I saw you today with Miss Brunhilde and only then I realized it’s not your magic, it’s you,” he said nervously, being chased around the room by Sylvie.  “It’s who you are, how you speak to people, how kind you are with them that they rather come to you and-“

“You are despicable and just… cruel!” She yelled again, but now, he had his back to the door. “I can’t even trust a cat anymore!”

“Sylvie, listen to me, I’m sorry. I regret what I did, but I’ve seen how amazing you are, how wonderful- and- I just want you to know that I…” he stuttered, her eyes were a pair of burning fire. “I don’t want to hurt you, Sylvie. I don’t want to be better than you, I just want you to be okay.”

“Get out!” She yelled at the top of her lungs and Loki opened the door behind him, terrified. “You deceived me, you liar. I don’t want to see you ever again! And if I do, you’ll regret ever being born, Odinsson. I hate you!” Her voice had broken and the tears fell from her eyes. She picked up a stone from the ground and threatened to throw it when Loki ran away aghast and got lost in the darkness of the night. 

Sylvie turned back to her house, the tears were heavily streaming down her cheeks now. She made a pause at the door, a habit she had to wait for the cat to enter. She slammed the door shut behind her and let out a painful scream, filled with hate and even remorse. It was late and she went straight to bed. There, she cried until she fell asleep.

Crescent moon

Soon after that night, Sylvie heard the gossip of Loki moving away. He had taken out the sign of his shop and just left one day. Leaving many ingredients, potions, and vials that his tenant, Mobius, was now selling.

“Hey there!” Mobius greeted her. “How’s the business?”

“Good,” she said distractedly as she inspected everything on sale.

“I’m sorry things didn’t work out between you two,” Mobius said softly, and that caught Sylvie’s attention.

“What?”

“I mean, forgive me, if it was supposed to be a secret… It’s just, Loki started to leave for the night and come back early in the morning. So I assume he was dating someone. He looked really happy back then,” Mobius explained. “And a few times I caught him walking in your house’s direction so I just assumed you both had something going on. But he was really discreet, never told me anything actually. But he was happy, that’s everything I know.”

“Of course he was happy,” Sylvie said with poison in her voice. “He lied to me, he tricked me.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I’m glad he left. How much for everything?” She asked changing the subject.

“I’ll be honest with you,” he whispered. “I have no idea how much all this stuff worth, so I’ll accept anything you give me,” he said cheekily.

“Twenty silver coins and a free potion monthly for a year,” she bargained and Mobius accepted the offer right away.

“I don’t know what happened between you two but…” Mobius started as Sylvie tried to fit everything in a box. “I got to know Loki for a while and he’s not that bad, you know?” Sylvie just glared at him trying to fit some vials in the box. “I know he can be somehow vain and self-centered, but he’s just a bit lost. If you give him a chance, he can surprise you.”

“I really doubt it. Thanks for this, I’ll see you around,” and with that, Sylvie took all the common and fancy ingredients Loki had left behind and made her way back home

Full moon

Sylvie always had many clients, but all of them belonged to the town or at most were close relatives of people from the town. So she was really surprised when an unknown face came to her shop and told her another witch has recommended her services. 

But that didn’t stop there, a week later, another man came for the town next door. And five days later, a woman came from another town, even farther than the previous.

That’s how her business started to grow even more, with people from far away towns and even big cities asking for more complex spells and potions, even other witches came to her looking for ingredients or asking her to teach them her knowledge.

It was tiresome, to attend to so many people, but Sylvie still had trouble getting used to her lonely life again. She never expected that a cat could make her so much company, Loki actually, and even more, she didn’t expect to miss that silent companionship they had. So even if it was tiresome, the heavy workload helped her to take her mind away from that and to help her sleep at night, due to extreme weariness. 

Waning Moon

A heavy knock on the door woke her up, it was strong and desperate. Very unusual for this late at night, so Sylvie got up to answer.

A strong tall man was standing at the door when she opened, next to him, was a woman who seemed to be his wife, who was also holding a small puppy in her arms.

“We hear you’re one of the best witches in the area, please, help us. This is an emergency,” the man pleaded and Sylvie let them in.

“I’ll be completely honest with you, miss,” the man started once they all have taken seats at Sylvie’s small table. “I am a powerful man, very rich, with many political attachments. In this business, I made more enemies than friends and I am afraid I caught the eyes of some powerful witch. There are many names for him, but these days he goes by Kang.”

The name made a sinister echo in the room and the man swallowed hard trying to steel his nerves.

“He came to see me a week ago, and threatened me to renounce my position in the government but I refused! And now, just a few days later… See what happened to my child, my little Ravonna,” the man turned to his wife and took the puppy from her hands. “It has been turned into this, a dog!”

The dog didn’t quite react to the situation, it looked tired and weak, barely opening its eyes.

“Are you sure this is your daughter?” Sylvie asked skeptically.

“How can you doubt-“ The woman tried to yell but the husband calmed her down.

“We’re sure. My wife and I tuck her into bed three nights ago and by morning, we found this pup instead. At first, we went to look for a witch to revert it, but after noticing the traces of Kang’s magic in her, no witch agree to help. I offered plenty of money, but they are all scared of Kang,” the man explained, handing the pup back to his wife. “Everything got worse two days later when she started to decay. We took her to a veterinarian who said she had a deadly disease! They treated her but with no results, she just gets worse by the day. The vet says she only has a week to live and we haven’t been able to find a witch to turn her back into her human form. That would cure her, but, until that…”

The man broke down crying, his wife teared up next to him, and the pup weep too.

“Please,” the woman begged. “Help us.”

Sylvie took a look at them, raised a hand to inspect the magic aura in the pup, and confirmed the story. There were clear traces of evil magic all around the animal. Sylvie sighed heavily.

“I don’t know any shapeshifting spell,” she said, and the faces fell with distress. “But I know someone who does.”

“Will this witch be willing to help?” The woman asked hopefully.

“He better do,” Sylvie said through greeted teeth. 

Sylvie got dressed in a beat and together, they all went to find Mobius. After explaining the situation, he told them all he knew about Loki’s whereabouts and without waiting for a second longer, they jumped into a car and drove the hours that separated them from New Asgard, Loki’s hometown where he had returned to. 

It wasn’t difficult to find Loki's whereabouts, everyone in New Asgard knew him, so they managed to find him before dawn. 

Sylvie had expected to find him living in a palace or at least a huge house all to himself and not the two-bedroom pigsty he lived in his brother's yard.

Sylvie hesitated for a moment in front of the door, surely Loki was asleep, but considering the emergency of the situation and the bad memory she had of Loki, she pounded on the door with more intensity than necessary.

“What is it?” He said rubbing his eyes when he opened the door. "Sylvie?" He exclaimed at last when his sight focused on her.

“Dress up,” she commanded, “I have a job for you.”

Loki’s place was really sad, with little to no furniture. The room he used to receive clients was the same he brew his potions and the other room was probably his bedroom. But everyone ignored the total lack of commodities for the sake of the matter at hand. 

The case was explained using the same words Sylvie had heard and when all the cards had been revealed, Loki took the pup that used to be a child called Ravonna in his arms. 

“She is in fact under a powerful spell,” he said inspecting the weakened pup. 

“Can you lift it?” The parents asked eagerly. 

“I could,” he admitted, but his face betrayed his unwillingness to the matter. “Sylvie, can I talk to you outside?” He asked and she complied silently by leaving the room.

“So, can you lift the spell or not?” Sylvie demanded to know, folding her arms over her chest.

“I can, but It’s really dangerous. Now I understand why no one else wanted to mess with this. If I lift the spell, Kang will know it was me. Eventually, he may come for my neck.” He admitted. 

“That pup- That child is gonna die if you don’t do something!” She insisted. 

“I know that, but… this is a death sentence.” 

Sylvie pursed her lips and shook her head, “I should have known that coming here was a waste of time!” she yelled turning around, but before she could do anything else, Loki grabbed her arm. She turned to face him again and his eyes were intensely looking down at her. 

“If you knew how to lift the spell, I know you don’t, but if you knew… knowing the consequences of doing it,” his green eyes looked at her straight in the eyes. “Would you still do it?” 

There was a long silence between them, the night turned cold announcing dawn and both stood still under the late waning moon, holding their gazes, pondering hundreds of questions. 

“I would,” Sylvie said at last. 

“Okay,” he answered with a nod. 

“So what, you’re going to teach me how to do it or…?”

“Another day maybe, if you want to,” he said and Sylvie couldn’t hide her confusion. “I need to lift a spell right now.”

Loki turned back to the house, leaving her standing alone and confused in the cold of the night. 

Loki wasted no time gathering potions and other ingredients. He moved the furniture in the room and prepared everything to lift the spell. Eventually, when everything was ready, he asked to be left alone with the pup, so everyone stood outside, waiting. 

With the first rays of the sun, a small cry was heard from inside the small shack. A human cry, Loki opened the door and walked outside carrying a baby Ravonna in his arms. Her parents ran to her and picked her up. She was kicking, healthy and alive. 

And while the parents hugged and kissed their returned baby, Sylvie and Loki stood away to have a little chat. 

“So you did it,” she began. “Thank you.” 

“My pleasure,” he said making a small bow at which she chuckled. 

“What happens now?” she asked slightly concerned. 

“She should be fine, I lifted the spell and cast away all the remains of magic.”

“I meant, what about… Kang?” 

“Well,” he sighed, “I can only hope he takes his time finding me. Or perhaps he won’t care?”

Sylvie nodded silently. “I thought you lived in a palace or something,” she changed the subject. “You are Odinsson…”

“I told you, my father and I had a disagreement about the witches’ school. So he kicked me out and now my brother was kind enough to lend me this shack in his yard to… run my business…” he said sadly. “It was a pleasant coincidence to know you took your magic after your mother. It was mine who got me into the school when Odin was against it.”

“She must be proud of you,” she said in a whisper. 

“I wouldn’t know, she died some months before I graduate.”

“I’m sorry,” Sylvie rushed to say, and Loki nodded thankfully. 

“What about your mother? I bet she’s proud of the witch you are,” he said then. 

“I wouldn’t know either,” Sylvie answered rather uncomfortable. “Both my parents died when I was a child. After that, I’ve been on my own.” 

“Oh, I’m really sorry.” 

“It’s fine. It’s been a long time,” she said with a dismissive gesture. “Was that you who spread the word of my business to other towns?” she asked then. 

“Yes, it was me, I hope it doesn’t bother you. You are truly amazing and people should know.”

“I appreciate it,” she thanked him.

“Okay, good.”

They stood silent again, awkwardly fidgeting in their spot. Looking at the happy family giggling and celebrating. 

“Sylvie, look,” he said suddenly, his green eyes piercing her soul. “I’m really sorry about what happened. I know I did wrong. There hasn't been a single day that I haven't regretted what I did. And I want to assure you, it won’t happen again. I know what I did, and I know why I did it, and that’s not the person I am anymore.” 

“You sure?” 

“I am,” he nodded eagerly. “And I wanted to offer you, as a way to redeem myself, I could teach you some things. How to improve your potions and some faster ways to do some spells…”

“What about shapeshifting spells?” She asked. 

“Yes, I can teach you that too. It’ll take a bit of time and practice, but you are really good, I don’t think it’ll be complex at all for you,” he said with a smile. 

“Okay,” she agreed and Loki was speechless. “I must return home now but… I think the next full moon is a good moment to start the lessons.” 

“Yes, of course!” He said once he had overcome the shock.

“You know where I live, you can take a bottle of sparkling mead. I’ll be waiting for you,” she said trying to hide a smirk.

Full moon

The night wasn’t dark at all, the full moon was shining brightly in the sky, illuminating softly the way up the hill that led to Sylvie’s house. Loki walked nervous and eager, steadying the basket hanging from his arm.

When he made it up the hill, she was waiting for him on the porch, bathing in the moonlight like a proper witch. He smiled shyly and approached her. 

“What d’you have there?” she asked nodding at the basket. 

“A bottle of sparkling mead, as you asked,” he said, taking out the bottle and putting it down on the porch. “Some nuts, and grapes, and… something I think I owe you…”

Loki placed the basket down and knelt next to it, he shoved both of his hands inside and took out a blanket rolled in a messy sort of knot. He extended it at Sylvie, she bent forward to look and a small, black, furry head popped out of the blanket. A black kitten with bright green eyes looked at up Sylvie and sniffed her curiously. 

“This one is a proper cat,” he reassured her with a smile. “I thought you might want one after… you know. But if you don’t, I can take it, really it’s no problem-”

“I like it,” she said smiling broadly at the creature, taking it from Loki’s hands and placing it on her lap. “What’s his name?”

“It doesn’t have a name yet,” Loki struggled to speak, for the sight of Sylvie holding the kitten in her lap under the moonlight took his breath away. 

“Well, you should give him a name soon, or I might call him Loki.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Sylvie was angry. 

More specifically, she was angry at Loki. 

Unfortunately, Loki had absolutely no idea what he’d done to warrant being on the receiving end of her wrath.

Everything had seemed perfectly fine. Sure, they had just engaged in a particularly difficult and stressful battle with a Kang variant and his android army on Universe 9422-B, but Loki actually thought he’d fought rather bravely in the battle. He’d taken out several scores of troops with his magic, detained one of their leaders, and helped them get close enough to steal the technology they were after to prevent the Kang variant from accessing the Void. Loki had even performed a particularly brilliant trick where he sent one of his duplicates to lure a bunch of the androids into a ship that later exploded, giving Sylvie, Mobius, and the rest of their soldiers the distraction they needed to retreat safely. 

But as soon as they’d walked through the TimeDoor and back to the TVA offices with the rest of the troops, Sylvie had rounded on him.

“What the hell were you trying to pull back there?!” Sylvie snapped, glaring at him.

Loki blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“You and your ridiculous illusions!” She said the last word in a disgusted, sneering tone. 

“What about them?”

“What about them?!” Sylvie looked ready to spit fire. “You diverted from the plan! You could’ve compromised the mission!” 

“I was just trying to buy you all some time—”

“We wouldn’t have needed time if you’d just stuck to the plan! But nooo, you have to go showing off with your stupid little magic tricks!”

“We needed a distraction! I was improvising!”

“Yeah? Well, next time, either follow the plan or don’t even bother coming at all!”

She stormed off, slamming the door behind her and startling Casey, who had been passing by with a cart full of weapons.

Loki watched her go, completely baffled. He turned to Mobius. “What did I do?” 

Mobius shrugged. “You diverted from the plan, it seems,” he said.

“But I had to,” Loki protested. “Kang’s forces were overwhelming us, and I created a diversion. It was the only way!”

“I agree, but I guess Sylvie doesn’t see it that way.”

Loki sighed. He stared at the door Sylvie had exited through; his gut twisted with a strange mix of guilt, sadness, regret, and confusion. He hated being at odds with her.

“You gonna go after her?” asked Mobius. 

Loki shook his head. “No. It’ll just irritate her. She’ll need some time to cool down.”

“Well, it was a pretty stressful battle. It’s probably just all the adrenaline talking,” said Mobius. He patted Loki on the shoulder. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? I’ll take care of filing the report.”

“Yeah. OK,” said Loki, casting one last look at the door. “Thank you, my friend.”

“No problem. You know I’m rooting for you guys,” said Mobius. 

*** 

Loki knew he needed to make amends with Sylvie for…well, whatever it was that he’d done wrong. Fortunately, he also happened to know the quickest way to her heart.

You see, not many people were aware of it, but Loki was actually quite good at baking. 

He enjoyed the predictability of it all—the fact that one could follow a recipe exactly as listed, using the correct measurements, equipment, and ingredients, and get the desired results every time. In fact, it was one of the few areas where Loki always followed the rules. The bread will rise if you use the right combination of ingredients. The cake won’t sink if you leave the oven door closed. The cookies will come out plump and chewy—and not flat and burned—if you use the right butter. 

It was simple. It was relaxing. 

And, as Loki discovered soon after he and Sylvie had reunited and had become…well, a thing…an added benefit of this hobby was that it made Sylvie deliriously happy. 

It turned out that Sylvie had an enormous sweet tooth. Norns knew why—Loki himself had rarely had anything sweeter than an occasional honey cake on Asgard, and hadn’t even really tried candy until long after he’d joined the TVA in their fight against Kang. 

Sylvie, though? She practically lived off sweets. So, whenever Loki would try a new recipe, Sylvie would eagerly volunteer to be his taste tester. She’d gone wild over his oatmeal raisin cookies. She’d gleefully devoured his banana bread. And she had a positively ravenous appetite for his cupcakes. 

His baking always put her in a good mood. It was, perhaps, the one thing Loki was confident Sylvie couldn’t resist. 

And he had found just the recipe to try to get back on her good side. 

It was a recipe from his childhood, one he’d long forgotten about until they’d tracked down a Kang variant on a version of Asgard a few months back and he’d found the recipe scrawled on a paper card in one of the kitchens.

So, before he returned to the little one-bedroom TVA apartment he shared with Sylvie (where, thankfully, the TVA’s magic-blocking technology had been lifted), he made a quick pit stop at the market to pick up the necessary supplies: flour, sugar, butter, eggs, molasses, cream, ginger, cloves, cardamom, and various other ingredients.  

He unloaded all the ingredients as soon as he returned to their apartment. Then, he tied his hair back, put on his apron, washed his hands, and got to work.

He measured out all the ingredients precisely, according to the recipe on the card. He melted the butter and sugars in a saucepan over medium heat until they were exactly the right color, then added the cream and spices. He stirred the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients and mixed until just combined. Then, forming the dough into two disc-shaped pieces, he wrapped them carefully and used his magic to chill them to the perfect temperature.

(OK, so maybe that last part wasn’t in the recipe—strictly speaking, he was supposed to chill the dough overnight. But quite frankly, he didn’t have all night. He wanted to make amends with Sylvie as soon as possible. So, he figured that in this instance, a magical shortcut was allowed.)

He preheated the oven, then rolled out the dough onto a floured cutting board and used a cookie cutter to form the cookies into the desired shapes. Then, he added a few finishing touches, carefully placed the cutouts onto a sheet of parchment paper, transferred them to a cookie sheet, and slid them into the oven. He set the oven timer to 18 minutes—the perfect amount of time for baking.

While the cookies baked, he set to work mixing the royal icing for decorating. Once it reached the desired consistency, he separated it into several bowls and mixed in some food coloring, then loaded the icing into several piping bags. 

Loki was just massaging the last piping bag, which was filled with an emerald green icing, when he heard someone walking down the hallway outside. Nervous anticipation, mixed with relief, bubbled in his chest. He’d recognize that boot-clomping, stalking stride anywhere: Sylvie had finally come home.

He heard the TVA keypad beep as she used her card to unlock the door to their apartment. Then, he watched from the kitchen as she opened the door and walked inside. She tossed her card on the table by the entrance and her jacket over the back of a chair, then came to a sudden halt. She closed her eyes, rolled her shoulders back, and inhaled deeply, savoring the delicious, warm, spiced scent that had filled the apartment. She let out a small, contented sigh; the dreamy expression on her face made Loki smile. 

Then, she opened her eyes and met Loki’s. She started to smile at him…but her expression flickered, as if she suddenly remembered she was supposed to be angry at him. 

“Hey,” she said, a bit awkwardly. 

(OK. She’s speaking to him. Progress.)

“Hey,” he repeated softly.

For a long, tense moment, they just stared at one another. Then, her eyes traveled to his apron and the oven mitts in his oversized apron pockets.

“Trying to bake your way back into my good graces, are you?”

“I am,” said Loki. He gave her a tentative smile, raising his eyebrows hopefully. “Is it working?”

“Mmm. Depends,” said Sylvie impassively. She crossed her arms. “What have you got for me?”

As if on cue, the oven timer went off.

Loki stopped the timer, put on his oven mitts, and beckoned her over. “Come see.”

He opened the oven door and pulled out the metal cookie sheet carefully, then placed it atop the oven.

Sylvie walked up behind him, staring at the tray curiously. Loki watched her expression soften as she looked at the finished product: A dozen flat brown cutout cookies, shaped like little people (and one alligator), each with a set of horns perched atop its head.

“Little gingerbread Loki variants,” she said softly. 

Loki smiled. “That’s right,” he said. “The recipe is actually for pepperkaker, which is a slightly spicier version than most gingerbread. We used to bake these in Asgard near the winter solstice. My mother used to say the spices were designed to warm our hearts and sharpen our minds, to help us get through the coming cold months.”  

He stole a quick glance at her; she was still staring at the cookies, a nostalgic, almost fond expression on her face, and he vaguely wondered if, perhaps, it reminded her a bit of her own childhood. He thought he saw the beginnings of a smile. 

(That had to be a good sign, right?)

Finally, Sylvie spoke. “They smell…really good,” she admitted begrudgingly. “Can I have one?”

“Well. You can …” Loki began. “But it’d be a waste to eat them without icing them first. So, I thought, maybe…if you wanted…we could spend the evening decorating them together?” 

He picked up an extra apron and held it out to her, giving her his best hopeful, pleading look. 

Sylvie stared at him appraisingly. 

“I’m still pretty angry with you, you know,” she said, but Loki noticed with relief that there was no real bite behind her words.

He could work with that. 

“Of course. I understand,” he said, bowing his head contritely. He chanced another glance at her. “But maybe we can call a truce for a few hours? In the name of cookie decorating.” 

She remained silent, glancing from the cookies to him. Finally, she sighed. She snatched the apron out of his hand and began to put it on. “All right, fine. We’ll call a truce. But only because they really do smell amazing and I actually want to eat some of them tonight.”

Loki grinned. 

*** 

They spent the next hour or so decorating each of the cookies with various colored icings. The royal icing Loki had made went on smoothly and hardened quickly, so that each cookie had a shiny, pleasing sheen to it once completed. 

As they decorated, they talked—not about the battle, or the argument, but about safer, more trivial topics, like Casey’s new fish tank decorations or Mobius’ questionable new mustache trimming. At first, the conversation was a bit stilted—Sylvie was obviously still angry with him for whatever he’d done earlier—but gradually, she started to warm to him. She smiled at some of his jokes; she made snarky comments about some of his decorating choices; she even put a bit of icing on the tip of his nose when he’d had the audacity to try to “fix” one of her cookies.

They decorated some of the cookies to resemble variants they’d actually encountered: The older Loki, Kid Loki, Alligator Loki (of course), the Loki who carried around a knockoff Mjolnir, President Loki, “Forks for Horns” Loki, and Bicycle Handlebars Loki. For the rest, they used their imaginations: Sylvie made a Disco Loki, a Tie-dye Loki, and a Punk Rock Loki, while Loki made a King Loki and a Shakespearean Loki.  

And, naturally, they made two of the cookies in their own likenesses. Sylvie even broke off one of Gingerbread Sylvie’s horns. 

“Do you think somewhere in this infinite multiverse, there actually are living, breathing gingerbread versions of us?” Sylvie wondered idly as she squeezed wiggly yellow hair lines on the cookie that was meant to resemble her.

“A gingerbread universe?” Loki shrugged. “I suppose it’s possible. There’s an alligator, after all.” He added some green icing to Gingerbread Loki’s outfit. “I just hope this little guy got over the fact that he’s actually a Frost-ing Giant.”

Sylvie snorted. “Aww. Poor little adopted prince.” She leaned over and piped a little frown onto Loki’s cookie. 

“Hey!” Loki swatted her hand away, laughing, then used his magic to flip the yellow frown into a crooked, mischievous red smile. Sylvie smirked.

Finally, all the cookies had been decorated. They arranged them on a large ceramic plate, then stepped back to survey their work.

“OK. They’re all pretty and presentable. Can we eat them now?” Sylvie asked.

Loki smiled. “Yes. I think they’re good to go.” He gestured to the plate. “After you, my dear.”

Sylvie grinned. She leaned over the plate and carefully selected the Gingerbread President Loki cookie. 

“Moment of truth,” she said. She gave him a slightly coy look. “Let’s see just how sorry you are.” She bit off the cookie’s entire right arm, and began to chew. “Mmmm…oh my gods,” she moaned. She closed her eyes, an expression of sheer ecstasy on her face. 

Loki watched her, trying not to focus on the many completely inappropriate thoughts that popped into his head after witnessing the extremely distracting manner in which she was enjoying the cookie. He averted his gaze momentarily, gathering himself, then cleared his throat. 

“Good?” he asked.

“Mmmph. So good,” said Sylvie. She swallowed. “Norns. You’ve outdone yourself.” She held up the armless Gingerbread President Loki. “I can see why the gator did what he did.”

Loki laughed. “I’m sure that idiot’s hand wasn’t nearly as tasty.” 

“Mmm, very true,” said Sylvie. She bit Gingerbread President Loki’s head off. “Well. At least now he can’t talk,” she said through a mouthful of cookie. 

Loki poured each of them a large mug of milk. They settled at the kitchen table together and systematically picked their way through the plate of cookies. Because they had both skipped dinner, they made quick work of them, so that after only a short time, only two gingerbread cookies remained: Gingerbread Loki and Gingerbread Sylvie.

Loki pushed the plate toward Sylvie. “Last ones. They’re all yours, if you’d like.” 

Sylvie stared at the cookies, a wistful, almost sad expression on her face. Finally, she shook her head.

“No. We shouldn’t eat them,” she said quietly. “We should keep them safe. They deserve to be together, and happy.”

Loki watched her carefully. Sylvie didn’t show her softer side often—in fact, it usually only came out when she was feeling particularly scared or vulnerable. He felt a pang of guilt. Whatever he’d done earlier, it must have hit a nerve deep inside her.

“You know,” he began delicately, “Midgardians have a tradition where they make these things called gingerbread houses. They cut a sheet of cookies a certain way so that, after they’re baked, you can assemble them into the form of a house.” He gestured toward the refrigerator. “I have some extra dough. I was going to freeze it for another day, but…well, maybe we could make a home for these two.”

Sylvie’s eyes darted to his. “Yeah,” she said finally, nodding. “A real home. With multiple rooms. And a large kitchen for Gingerbread Loki to bake Gingerbread Sylvie all the treats she can eat whenever he screws up.”

Loki smiled to himself. 

“Of course,” he said. “But not gingerbread treats.”

“Well, obviously not gingerbread. That would be cannibalism, wouldn’t it?” said Sylvie. She picked up a large crumb from the table and stuck it in her mouth. “Might be worth it, though. These cookies are really good.”

Loki laughed. “Well. We’d best get to work, then,” he said. “I have a feeling Gingerbread Loki screws up a lot. We’re going to need a lot of gingerbread to make the house large enough to fit all those apology baked goods.”

*** 

They spent most of the rest of the night baking—rolling out the dough, making more icing, and waiting for the cookies to cool. Finally, the gingerbread house pieces were cut out and ready to assemble. 

They sat at their little kitchen table and got to work. They worked as a team to erect the walls and the roof: Sylvie piped generous amounts of icing along the edges of the cutouts, while Loki carefully pieced them together. Once all the pieces were assembled, they began adding white icing to the exterior in patterns. Loki decorated the walls, while Sylvie worked on the roof.  

The decorating this time was a bit more subdued. Sylvie seemed extremely focused on the task of designing the perfect house for their two little gingerbread cookies. Loki’s heart swelled with fond adoration as he watched her carefully pipe royal icing onto the roof in swooping ropes, her brow furrowed, her tongue adorably sticking out of the side of her mouth in concentration.  

Eventually, most of the gingerbread house was covered with icing. However, Sylvie didn’t seem satisfied. 

“Hmm. Looks a little bland, with all the white icing,” said Sylvie, scrunching her nose in distaste.  “I think Gingerbread Loki and Gingerbread Sylvie would live somewhere a bit flashier, don’t you? They’re hedonistic gingerbread cookies, after all.”

“That’s a very good point,” said Loki. “I could make more colored icings.” 

Sylvie examined the gingerbread house discerningly. “Mmm. No. I have a better idea.” She held up a finger. “Hang on a sec.”

Loki watched, a bit baffled, as she rushed to the door, grabbed her key card, and took off down the hall. She returned a few moments later with an armful of small, colorful boxes. She dumped the boxes on the table in a pile. 

Loki raised an eyebrow. “What’s all this?”

“Candy from the vending machine down the hall.”

“Wow.” Loki blinked. “Where’d you get the money to buy all that?”

Sylvie shrugged. “Didn’t need it,” she said, grabbing a yellow package of gumdrops and tearing the top off. “As it turns out, the vending machine was out of order.” She dumped the gumdrops into a small bowl.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Some hoodlum broke through the glass, so all this candy was free for the taking.”

Loki suppressed an amused smile. “I see,” he said. He took a green box of sour balls and carefully opened the top. “And here, I thought all the hoodlums at the TVA were reformed.”

“Well. I suppose some hoodlums are still a bit bitter that they were chased through space and time for most of their lives and think free candy is the least a certain formerly fascist organization can do to help mend the fences.” She ripped open a brown box of colorful, candy-coated chocolates and poured them into a bowl. “Now, come on. Help me sort through all these for the greens and yellows. Gingerbread Loki and Gingerbread Sylvie will settle for nothing less.”

They sifted through several boxes of candy, selecting only the greens and yellows of each. Then, they got to work decorating the exterior of the house. 

And as they decorated, Loki couldn’t help but reflect back on the battle, trying to figure out exactly what he’d done that had upset Sylvie so deeply earlier. Even after ruminating on it for all these hours, he still had no clue.

She’d mentioned his diverting from the plan, and his magic tricks, when she’d yelled at him earlier…but he was always casting spells in battle. It was one of his greatest strengths. In fact, a lot of the illusions he’d cast were actually part of the plan. 

The only time he’d really gone off book was when he lured the Kang androids away from them with his duplicate, but by then, the tide had shifted and the plan was basically useless anyway. They had desperately needed a distraction, and he had provided it. The fact that the ship exploded, destroying many of the androids, was just a bonus. 

He really wished he knew what he’d done wrong. 

Finally, as they began putting finishing touches on the roof, Loki decided to broach the subject.

“Sylvie…listen. About earlier,” Loki began. He sighed. “I’m sorry. I know how important the mission is to you. I should’ve just stuck to the plan, like you said” 

Sylvie stared at him for a long moment. “You still don’t know what you did, do you?”

“I…well, no,” Loki admitted. “Not specifically. I know you think I could’ve screwed up the mission. And I know I hurt you somehow, even though I didn’t intend to. I just…I want to make it right.” He gazed into her eyes pleadingly. “Please help me make it right.”

Sylvie was silent for a moment. She idly picked a green candy ball from the bowl and rolled it between her thumb and forefinger. Finally, she spoke.

“I wasn’t angry because you could’ve screwed up the mission, Loki,” she said quietly. She pressed the green ball into a dot of icing on the roof. “I was angry because I thought you’d gotten yourself killed.”

“Killed?” Loki screwed up his face, confused. “But…I was perfectly safe the whole time. I never even left my post.” 

“Not once, huh? Not even to get on that ship?”

“No. I promise,” said Loki. “That was just a duplicate.”

“Right. It was just a duplicate.” Sylvie gave him a significant look. “But I didn’t know that.”

Loki stared at her. His blood ran cold as realization dawned. “You thought I blew up with the ship?”

Sylvie nodded. She looked down at the table and began blinking rapidly, as though holding back tears.

Loki’s chest constricted. He swallowed a lump in his throat. 

“Gods, Sylvie. I’m so sorry,” he said. “ I always use duplicates in battle. I…I didn’t even think…”

“No. It’s OK,” she said with a sniffle. “It was actually a smart plan. And it did work. I just wish I had known about it. Because…well…” She sighed. “Look. I’ve had my entire world ripped away from me more times than I can count. My original timeline was pruned. Every place I’ve ever been, everyone I’ve ever met, everything that was ever mine, was taken from me.” She looked at him. “And right now, you are my world, Loki. My entire world. And when I saw that ship explode, and I thought you were in it, I just…” She paused, and took another shaky breath. “I thought I’d lost you. And I thought my world was stolen from me, again.” 

“Oh, Sylvie…” he said, his stomach twisting guiltily.

Sylvie sniffled. “I know I probably overreacted,” she said, staring at a yellow gumdrop she was kneading between her fingers. “It’s just…I’ve lost a lot in my life, and…well…I don’t…I don’t think I can bear losing you, too. Not again.”

Loki shifted his chair closer to hers, then leaned over and pulled her into his arms. She shifted so she could put her own arms around him and hugged him tightly. He ran his hand along her back as he felt her take several shaky breaths.

“I’m so sorry, Sylvie,” he murmured. “Norns, you’re my whole world, too. I can’t imagine ever losing you. Gods. I don’t even want to think about it. You must have been terrified.” 

“Terrified, angry, heartbroken, ready to launch into a murderous rampage…” 

He held her closer and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m sorry. Truly. I promise, I won’t do anything like that again.”

Sylvie sighed into his apron. “You will. Of course, you will. You’ll do what you need to do. And I love you for it. Just…try to clue me in on what you’re doing next time, OK?”

“Yes, of course,” he said. “We’ll, I don’t know, work up a signal.”

“Yeah. OK,” she sniffed. Loki watched as she swiped her sleeve over her eyes. 

He twirled his hand and conjured a lacy-edged handkerchief, which he handed to her.

She took it, staring at it quizzically. “What’s this? A doily?”

“No, it’s a handkerchief.”

“What’s with all the lace?”

“I dunno. Isn’t that what handkerchiefs look like?”

“Beats me.” She held it up. “Norns, look at that. It’s monogrammed and everything.”

“Of course. I’m fancy like that.”

Sylvie smiled, amused. “OK. Well. Thanks for the snotrag, anyway.” She blew her nose loudly.

Loki laughed. 

*** 

Once they’d put all the finishing touches on the house, they propped Gingerbread Loki and Gingerbread Sylvie out front. Then, they both stepped back to admire their work. 

“Now, that’s a home,” said Sylvie, surveying the house proudly. “The perfect dwelling for a gingerbread god and goddess of mischief.”

“I agree. It’s lovely,” said Loki. 

Sylvie smiled wistfully. “I’m glad we could do this for them. Give them somewhere warm and safe, where they can be happy together.”

Loki felt a rush of affection for her. He reached over and took her hand. “We’ll have this, too, Sylvie,” he said quietly. “Someday, all the battles will be over, and we’ll have a home of our own—one that isn’t just a cramped TVA apartment. We’ll be safe, and happy, and create a life together.”

“You think so?” she asked quietly. “You think we’ll both survive all this?”

“I do,” Loki said seriously. “We’re Lokis, right? And Lokis survive.”

“Yeah,” Sylvie said softly. She smiled. “We do, don’t we?”

“It’s incredibly hard to get rid of us,” said Loki. “Just ask Thor. Or Mobius, for that matter.”

“Mmm. Good point. We are annoyingly persistent when it comes to the whole living thing,” she said. She looked over the gingerbread house again. “You know, it’d be a pity to have put so much work into making this perfect home for them only for us to destroy it and eat it.” She glanced at him. “Think you can do something about that, magician?”

Loki smiled. He called his seidr to his hand and held it over the gingerbread house. Soon, the house and its gingerbread occupants were bathed in a soft green light. Loki used his magic, transforming the gingerbread molecules into wood, the frosting into paint and glue, the candy into plaster. Then, he added a protection spell over it, just in case. 

“There we go,” said Loki softly once he’d finished. He wrapped his arms around Sylvie from behind and kissed the top of her head. “Now, no one can eat them. They’re protected and safe. And they’ll live happily ever after.”

Sylvie leaned back into his warm embrace. “Just like us, someday.”

“Right. Just like us.” 

They held each other for a bit, staring at the happy home they’d created. And Loki couldn’t help but imagine what their home might be like—one day, hopefully in the near future, after all the Kang variants are defeated and the multiverse is at peace. The two of them, together, safe, and happy.

It was a lovely prospect, indeed. 

After a few moments, Sylvie spoke. 

“There’s just one problem, though,” she said, turning in his arms to face him. 

“Oh?” Loki tilted his head. “What is it, darling?”

“Well,” said Sylvie in a regretful tone, “it seems that now, we’re all out of gingerbread.” 

She gave him a pointed look. 

Loki pursed his lips, amused. “Right.” He bent down and kissed her forehead. “I’ll go get the mixing bowls.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

The TVA Christmas party, as always, is a disaster.

Sylvie has no idea why they even organize it; it’s not like it’s ever actually Christmas at the TVA. It exists outside of time and space, as it were, and from where Sylvie is sitting, a TemPad in her pocket, there’s an infinite number of Christmases happening on infinite Earths within the Multiverse all the time, all of recorded history from beginning to end occurring simultaneously. There’s no reason to celebrate seasonal holidays in a place where there are no seasons to speak of.

But Mobius, currently drunk off his ass on eggnog and roping other workers into an off-key rendition of Auld Lang Syne, insisted.

“It builds morale,” he’d told her when she refused to participate in this thing again, the memories of the previous couple of times still fresh in her mind. “And it’s going to be fun.”

“If your definition of fun involves making small talk with Judy from Accounting and getting socks for Secret Santa,” Sylvie had replied. She’s not opposed to Judy or socks on principle, but having either forced upon her because Mobius wants the workplace to “feel more like a family” is definitely not her thing.

“Come on. I promise you’ll love it. Where’s your Christmas spirit?”

She never should’ve relented.

Sylvie slumps further in her seat, legs on the table, and she offers another piece of gingerbread to the alligator sitting by her chair, reptilian eyes staring up at her expectantly. He devours the treat and lets out a series of noises, somewhere between growls and hisses.

“I’ll take that bet,” Sylvie replies, smirking a little. With this many drunk people in one room, there’s no way the night doesn’t end in a brawl or two.

The TVA is positively teeming with Lokis these days, some of them rescued from the Void, others recruited from the timeline, and all of them in desperate need of a purpose. She can spot a few of them in the crowd, variants of every shape and size. Her crocodilian counterpart is one of her favorites, with his dry wit and insatiable knack for violence. The two of them understand each other well.

Of course, he’s not her absolute favorite Loki, but the one in question is nowhere to be seen, and the fact that he’s left her here alone to fend off people wearing ugly Christmas sweaters unironically is starting to threaten his ranking.

She got him for the gift exchange this time, which was a relief for a second - until she realized that she has to actually put some effort into coming up with an idea now, instead of buying a generic knickknack or a box of chocolates. Whoever drew her name hasn’t revealed themselves yet, and Sylvie isn’t particularly looking forward to another mug or scarf to add to her collection. The Secret Santa might be her least favorite part of all of this, and that’s saying something.

Her TemPad chirps. Sylvie pulls it out of her pocket and glances at the screen to read the incoming message.

Meet me in the hallway.

Relieved, Sylvie practically jumps out of her chair. She’s been bored out of her mind for the last hour, and now Mobius is starting the karaoke machine. She’s definitely nowhere near drunk enough to endure that. She picks up the bowl of clumsily decorated gingerbread men and sets it down on the floor.

“Enjoy,” she says to Alligator Loki, who grunts appreciatively in response. Sylvie sneaks out into the hallway before anyone tries to convince her to sing Mariah Carey in a duet.

(It happened that one time. Never again.)

Loki is waiting for her in the hallway right outside the cafeteria, the walls here empty and gray in comparison to the explosion of tinsel and colorful lights she’s just left behind. He’s mercifully not wearing the red monstrosity with a reindeer on the front that Mobius tried to push on him, instead sporting a nice green jumper. He smiles when he sees her, that familiar smile with just a flash of teeth and his eyes squinting a bit. Sylvie finds herself smiling back, her mood instantly improving.

“Where have you been?” she asks when she’s just a step away. “I felt abandoned in there.”

“I’m sorry.” He extends his hand apologetically, and she takes it, lacing their fingers together. “How bad is it? Have they started singing yet?”

As if on cue, the first notes of All I Want For Christmas filter into the hallway. Sylvie grimaces.

“We need to run.”

“Definitely. Shall we go back to our room?”

Their assigned quarters are small and windowless, but Loki has been steadily swapping the standard-issue TVA furniture with nicer and more comfortable stuff, and with all the blankets and pillows and books they bring back from their excursions to different timelines, the space has become quite cozy. Most importantly, it’s theirs, and it’s the first place Sylvie has been able to call home in well over a thousand years.

She glances behind her to make sure no one has noticed their absence yet. “Yes. Let’s go.”

It’s a long walk, from one seemingly never-ending corridor into another, past offices and archives and training rooms. Loki matches her step for step easily, even though his legs are a fair bit longer than hers, and the silence between them is a comfortable one.

But there is something in his face that tells Sylvie he isn’t quite as relaxed as he’s pretending to be, just the tiniest bit of tension. She doubts anyone but her would notice, but the language of Loki is her mother tongue just as much as it is his, even if the dialect she speaks differs from the one he uses.

“What’s wrong?” she asks him point-blank, never one to dance around a subject.

Loki glances at her, and she can see it more clearly now, the nervousness he’s trying to mask. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just tired, I suppose.”

She scrutinizes him with furrowed brows. Sylvie knows what he looks like when he’s tired, and this isn’t it.

She’s about to press him for the truth - she could get it out of him easily enough - but he tugs on her hand like he’s silently asking her to drop it, so she relents with a sigh. He’ll tell her soon enough.

Their room is bathed in darkness when they enter, the only light coming from the corridor. Sylvie instinctively reaches for the switch on the wall, and a moment later the ceiling lamp comes to life.

There’s one thing in the room that wasn’t there when she was leaving.

The bed is still neatly made, a dark green bedspread covering the sheets. The books on the shelves are organized the same way they always were. The two armchairs they like to curl up in are standing in their usual place.

But on their little table, with two chairs pushed in on opposite sides, stands a gingerbread house.

It looks like it was made by someone who has no idea how to build a gingerbread house, but gave it their best go anyway. The walls are a little crooked, the roof clearly higher on one side than on the other, and the icing patterns in white, red and green look more like squiggles than anything else. There’s a red gift bow stuck to the front.

Sylvie steps closer. She can smell the sweet scent of gingerbread spices in the air. “What’s this?”

Loki looks properly jittery now, standing next to her with a smile that’s almost sheepish. “This is your Secret Santa gift.”

Her eyes snap to his in surprise. “You got me for Secret Santa?”

His smile grows a bit wider, a bit more confident. “I did.”

“Interesting,” Sylvie says slowly, raising an eyebrow at him. “Because I got you.”

“Did you now? What a coincidence.”

Oh, he definitely fixed that thing.

Sylvie doesn’t know how he did it - enchanted paper, maybe? - but he looks a little pleased with himself, whatever was giving him anxiety forgotten for a moment. Sylvie looks back at the gingerbread house, with all its flaws, and she imagines Loki sneaking away from the party to glue the thing together with his own hands. It occurs to her that he also must have found the time to bake all the parts sometime in the days since the Secret Santa draw.

Why does that make her want to cry? She doesn’t even like gingerbread. Or Christmas. Or Secret Santa.

Loki steps behind her, one hand on her waist. “I admit this isn’t my best work,” he says, and it’s definitely not, but the feeling in her chest persists all the same. “But I hope the second part will make up for it.”

“The second part?”

“Look inside.”

She leans over the little house to examine it closer. Sure enough, the tiny door on the front wall actually opens - it nearly falls off when Sylvie pries it open, but the sugary glue holds. She peers inside and sees a square package, wrapped in colorful paper. It’s small enough to fit in the palm of her hand. She grabs it carefully with two fingers and pulls it out.

Wrapped in the paper is a little box, and in that box, there is a key. Sylvie stares at it, puzzled.

“What it opens is not technically built yet,” Loki says from behind her. “So I thought I’d try the gingerbread to give you some kind of reference.”

Her brain needs a few seconds to process his words. When it does, she slowly sets the box down on the table.

And then, in one move, she turns around and tackles Loki, pushing him onto the bed.

She hears him gasp when she knocks the air out of him with the impact, and he lands gracelessly on his back, eyes wide in shock. Sylvie straddles his hips and jabs a finger into his sternum in an accusatory gesture.

“You got me a house?!” She knows she’s practically shrieking, but she can’t help herself. “An actual house?!”

Loki props himself up on his elbows and meets her eyes. He looks like he’s not sure what to make of her reaction. “Well, technically, I got us both a house. But yes.”

“Where?”

He clears his throat. “New Asgard. In my timeline. I thought it made sense for us both, but if you don’t like that…”

“What sort of house?” she interrupts him. Her mind is absolutely racing, trying to picture it in her head.

“It’s nothing very fancy. Two stories, three bedrooms. Excellent closet space, though, and an en suite master bathroom,” Loki says in a way that makes Sylvie think he’s been reading architecture magazines. “It will look roughly like this when it’s finished,” he adds, gesturing to the gingerbread house. “Hopefully less crooked. And it’ll have a view of the ocean.”

Sylvie leans forward, resting her hands on his chest. Their noses are almost touching. “I want to see.”

Loki smiles at her, clearly relieved that she’s not screeching anymore. “Then you need to let me go.”

She slides off his lap reluctantly, and Loki sits up and takes out his TemPad. With a few quick taps, he pulls up a photo and casts a holographic projection of it in the air.

He’s right, the house looks very vaguely like the gingerbread construction he made. It’s made entirely of wood - nice, solid beams and logs, with dark gray roof tiles and big windows and a front porch. It’s standing on a grassy hill, clear blue sky in the background.

“This is just a visualization,” Loki says. “Right now there’s only a plot of land there, but in some time, that’s what it will look like.”

Sylvie sits down on the edge of the bed next to him, staring at the picture in wonder. “Then why don't we just fast forward and go to the point on the timeline when it’s finished?”

“I thought about that. But then it occurred to me that it could be nice to watch the progress.” He says it with a little uncertainty, like he’s not sure she’ll agree. “From empty land to the finished product.”

Sylvie doesn’t reply right away. Her eyes are still fixed on the photo.

A house. A real house, all their own. Ready to be filled with life and memories.

“We’ve been living at the TVA for a while now,” Loki continues. “I think it’s time for a change. If you want to, of course.”

Sylvie reaches for his hand and squeezes it tightly. She exhales slowly.

“I love it.”

She can feel Loki smile beside her without looking. “You do?”

“Yes,” she confirms. It still seems a little unreal, but she couldn’t have imagined such a gift in her wildest dreams. “It’s perfect. I just wish I’d known that this was the kind of Secret Santa where we were giving each other real estate,” she adds pointedly. “My gift looks lame in comparison.”

Loki squeezes her hand back. “I’m sure that’s not true at all.”

Sylvie sighs and flicks her wrist. The package materializes from the pocket dimension she stored it in. Loki hums proudly at that display of magic. It took her quite a while to get a hang of this particular trick, but she has to admit it’s very convenient. She hands him the gift, wrapped in plain black paper. Loki tears it open impatiently, a flat rectangular box inside.

Sylvie suddenly feels a little shy when he takes off the lid to reveal a long dagger. She specifically went to Nidavellir to get it and convinced the Dwarves to make it according to her specifications with only mild threats. The blade is all black, made of an alloy that renders it virtually indestructible, and the hilt will fit Loki’s hand perfectly. At the end of it, there’s a rich green emerald set in silver. It’s a weapon, and it’s meant to be practical, but Loki does love a bit of flash, so it seemed appropriate. The Dwarves balanced the weight of the whole thing down to an atom so that the gemstone won’t affect the trajectory if Loki throws the dagger.

He looks down at it for a long moment before he takes it out and examines it from all sides. The jewel catches the light and glitters.

“Sylvie, this is extraordinary,” he says at last. “Absolutely extraordinary. I’ve never seen a finer weapon in my life.”

He glances at her, a glint in his eye. “Is this because I said that love is a dagger?”

She feels a blush rise in her cheeks. Loki grins.

“Are you giving me your love for Secret Santa?”

“I could stab you with it too,” she mumbles, averting her gaze, but Loki gently puts his hand on her arm and turns her back towards him. This time, his eyes are impossibly soft.

“It’s the best gift anyone’s ever given me,” he promises. “I’m honored.”

She’s still blushing, but he really looks emotional now, and she knows he’s not just talking about the dagger.

So maybe she did use his terrible metaphor when she came up with this idea. That doesn’t make the metaphor itself good. It’s still awful. But it makes for a decent gift inspiration.

Sylvie looks back at the photo of their future house hanging in the air. “So what do we actually need three bedrooms for?” she asks, eager to get the attention away from herself.

It’s Loki’s turn to stammer a little. “Well, we could always turn one of them into an office, if we need one. And maybe a guest bedroom in case someone visits? Of course, we could also…”

He trails off. Sylvie raises an eyebrow at him.

“We could also what?” she asks innocently, enjoying his fluster. Serves him right for trying to tease her about the dagger.

He looks her in the eye, his cheeks a little flushed. “You know what.”

“Nope,” Sylvie denies smoothly, popping the p. “No idea at all.”

They stare at each other for a minute, a silent battle of wills, until Loki relents.

“Well, I thought that maybe we could use the extra rooms in case we ever wanted to think about having a b…”

A hiss interrupts them. Their heads snap towards the source of the sound in unison, just in time to see Alligator Loki doing a frankly impossible leap onto the table, his jaws clasping around one corner of the gingerbread house.

Sylvie jumps off the bed in a second, barely registering Loki’s surprised gasp, and she grabs the unruly reptile, pulling him away from Loki’s creation. He flails in the air, snapping his teeth and grunting angrily.

“If you bite me, I’ll bite you back,” Sylvie promises, and he stops moving immediately in surprise. Clearly no one’s threatened him with that before.

“How did he even get in here?” Loki asks weakly. The gingerbread house is crumbling on one side, a hole with jagged edges from the alligator’s teeth making it collapse in on itself.

“I don’t know, he’s a Loki. Have you ever seen a closed door stop a Loki?”

The alligator hisses.

“I don’t care if you’re hungry,” Sylvie scolds him. “You don’t just barge into somebody’s room and start eating decorations. No matter how good they smell.”

The alligator sniffles.

“Oh, don’t give me that. Half of us didn’t have moms to teach us to act the right way. Now apologize.”

She’s pretty sure he’s giving her a death glare, so she pulls one of her own. The reptile relents and lets out a series of grunts.

“You do realize I can’t actually understand him,” Loki points out. “I’m still convinced you all are just lying to me when you claim you can communicate.”

“He said he’s sorry. With some cursing in the mix, but I suppose it’ll do.” She sets Alligator Loki back on the floor. “Now shoo. Go bite somebody’s hand off if you’re so hungry.”

Alligator Loki huffs, but he leaves the room, and Sylvie double checks the locks on the door before plopping back down on the bed. She and Loki both stare at the ruined gingerbread house.

“This is why we need to get out of here,” Loki mumbles. “No one here understands the concept of privacy. Do you remember that time Mobius…”

Sylvie puts a finger to his mouth, effectively silencing him. “We agreed to never speak of it again. And I wiped his memory.”

“I wish you’d wiped mine.”

“Then I’d have to suffer alone. I can’t delete my own memories.”

She rests her head on Loki’s shoulder. He wraps his arm around her waist.

“You know,” she says after a moment, “if we do what you’re suggesting, we won’t have much privacy in that house either.”

Loki’s thumb is rubbing circles into the fabric of her shirt. “I know. And I’m not saying we have to do it right away. But… someday, maybe?”

Sylvie hums. Loki’s body is warm against hers, and the picture of their house is still in the air in front of them, a promise of their future together.

“Yeah,” she agrees, considering the idea. “Someday would be nice.”

Loki nuzzles her hair. “I can’t wait, then.”

When she looks up at him, he looks so happy that something in her chest melts completely.

“Merry Christmas, Sylvie,” he says softly.

And it’s not really Christmas, of course, but just this once, she lets it slide.

“Merry Christmas, Loki.”

She tilts her head to kiss him, slow and sweet. His hand still smells faintly of gingerbread when he raises it to cup her cheek.

Maybe, just maybe, there is a tiny bit of Christmas spirit in her after all.