Chapter Text
Three extremely ornate-looking cocktails, give or take. That was the number of drinks Loki had consumed so far. Give or take because he vaguely remembered his hands in possession of his glass one moment, and conspicuously free of anything the next. He could have had a fourth, he thought, maybe. But he had been called to a more intimate area, away from the party proper, before he could decide whether or not to give that fourth a shot.
“Loki, c’mere.” The woman, Darcy Lewis, owner and writer of the most popular New York City Socialite gossip blog, motioned for him to follow her up the stairs of the lavish apartment. They entered another room, warm and quiet in comparison to the bustling party happening downstairs. He said warm, but that referred more to the temperature than the over-all atmosphere.
There were other guests here as well, all of them peering into the large aquariums surrounding the gallery-like space. “Has Victor turned to collecting fish now?” he asked Darcy off-handedly as she continued to steer him through the room.
Darcy paid no attention to his snark and, with him in tow, pushed her way through a small crowd gathered around none other than the host himself. “Kick-ass party, Victor,” she said loudly, both getting his attention and annoying the people who were trying to keep it.
“Darcy Lewis, happy you could make it,” he greeted. “And Loki, you too?” There was something in his tone that made Loki think he was more pleased to see him than he was with Darcy, but Victor hid it well enough. Not that Darcy would have cared either way.
“Victor.” He smiled back graciously at their host. “Tonight looks to undoubtedly be another successful Von Doom affair.”
“What do you have here, Victor?” Darcy said suddenly, leading the conversation and gesturing to the large glass wall behind them. Loki hadn’t gotten a chance to get a good look at what had caught everyone’s attention earlier, so any could imagine his surprise to see that what he thought were aquariums were actually large enclosures, this one containing a flock of little blue birds.
“Are those penguins?” Loki said, taken aback. He would later blame the drink for his child-like surprise, but truthfully, he was legitimately gobsmacked to see such creatures. But he prided himself in his reputation too much to admit that.
Victor, on the other hand, looked most pleased with his reaction. “Like them? They were a gift,” he said, and Loki could clearly see the thinly-veiled self-satisfaction written on his face as he showed off his acquisitions. “Although, it’s a pity I couldn’t keep them.”
“Aw, why not?” Darcy cooed, looking genuinely disappointed to hear that they weren’t going to be a permanent fixture in his abode. Loki on the other hand, turned his attention to the birds, not particularly interested in whatever reasons their host could possibly give them. He expected the truth to be that they cramped his style, regardless of whatever less shallow reason Victor would cook up. They weren’t exactly a picture of power and opulence - two things Victor von Doom took much pride in exhibiting.
Victor explained anyway. “They’re very social animals. Need to always be in groups. I couldn’t stand keeping so many of them.” He shrugged nonchalantly. Any other person would mistake his words to be more in jest, but the thing about Victor von Doom was that he could make you believe his arrogance and lack of sympathy were only exaggerations- jests, if you would- instead of the bare-faced truths that they usually were.
Still, what he said seemed odd to Loki. A whole crowd of penguins ran to the other side of the enclosure, leaving a solitary one exposed and isolated in the corner. “What about that one?” he asked, pointing at it. Loki couldn’t help but stare at the little thing standing perfectly still and all on its own. Given what Victor had just told him, and the way it just stayed there, the thought crossed his mind that maybe it was dead—ridiculous a notion as it sounded.
Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Victor approach to get a better look, but for the most part, his attention was still locked on the lone penguin, wondering if it even cared to notice how exposed his solitude left him.
A snort was Victor’s initial reply. Whether it were one of annoyance or dismissal, Loki could not decide.
He liked thinking it was the former and that Victor was displeased at being made to look like a liar. “Right, the odd one.” Loki gave himself points after Victor’s voice confirmed his earlier speculations. “We haven’t been able to find out what’s wrong with that one.”
The way he said that made Loki narrow his eyes at him. He was sure Victor couldn’t see him, which was for the better because he didn’t know how to explain being offended on behalf of a bird. True enough, Victor continued what he was saying, completely oblivious to Loki’s glare.“He doesn’t seem to like the others, and mostly just sits on his own and watches people.” It was clear that this was either very abnormal behaviour for penguins, or was just something Victor did not like about it.
True enough though, upon returning his focus to the little blue bird, he found it staring them down. Loki had never really found himself in the position of getting sized up by an animal- let alone a penguin- before. But if it was any consolation, the animal’s unmoving stare didn’t make him uncomfortable or creep him out, even though he felt as if it was supposed to.
“Maybe it’s the others who don’t like him,” he found himself saying. He looked back at Victor and Darcy. Both their faces seemed unreadable for a moment, and Loki thought that, being two well educated people, their expressions indicated they might have been reading too much into what he said.
“Oh my god, Loki,” Darcy said, first to react. “You should totally just get that one! You’d make the perfect couple!” Her eyes were wide, face lit up with excitement.
Loki frowned slightly. He did not like the idea of being at the receiving end of one of the crazed ideas that ran wild in Darcy’s head.
“What?” he asked dismissively.
Darcy was relentless. “I’m serious!” she said animatedly, complete with hand gestures. “Like, forget designer dogs! Nothing as mundane as that for the likes of Loki Odinson!” There were arching movements and jazz-hands involved in her pitch. That alone should probably have insulted Loki, especially since it meant that she thought that such a display would actually entice him.
Now, it might have just been the alcohol, but Loki was beginning to think that, while Darcy herself may have been a bit of kilter, what she had been suggesting. . . might not actually be all that bad? “A penguin though?” he said, trying not to make it sound too obvious that he was considering it.
It was as if, in a mad way, he hoped that a crazy person like Darcy would be able to pick up that they were in agreement, but he couldn’t admit it. It was as if Darcy was supposed to use her infinite wisdom to come up with the perfect, nonsensical solution that would end up solving the problem for both of them.
But then, as if receiving his psychic plea in her stead, Victor piped in, chuckling. The man had kept quiet up until now, but chose this very moment to lend his own thoughts on the matter."Why not?" he asked, as if he believed it was really that simple.
Loki felt the corners of his mouth twitch in annoyance. It wasn’t that Loki didn’t one of the little things for himself, but something in him grew excessively upset, feeling as if Victor’s words were an arrogant challenge, rather than an offer. The scoff practically spoke that, not only was caring for a penguin well within Loki’s abilities, but also that Loki could not seem to see the verdict as obviously as he and Darcy could.
“I don’t know the first thing about penguins,” he huffed, as if in defiance to their nonchalance about the matter.
But Darcy was having none of that. “They eat fish, they swim, they waddle around looking cute, bam! The end. Now you’re a penguin expert.” Any other day, Darcy’s exasperation might have been annoying. But really, how many people could say they had the ever irreverent and unapologetic Darcy Lewis beg them to do something?
“It’s well within your capability...” Victor encouraged as well.
Darcy’s face lit up, heartened that she now had an ally in her cause. “And you’d finally have a use for that pool of yours!” Loki quirked a brow at her, wanting to be surprised that she even knew about his pool. But it would have been very naive of him to think that a gossip blogger as skilled as Darcy would not have an entire blueprint of every house owned by someone of note in New York. “Come on, it’ll be awesome!” She was giving him the doe-eyes now.
Loki hid his uncontrollable grin by turning to face the tank, looking away from them. “Well, they are terribly adorable...” he admitted, trying his hardest not to coo.
“That’s the spirit!” Darcy said, accentuating her words with a particularly hard slap to Loki’s shoulder. It stung, and Loki sent a glare in the enthusiastic brunette’s direction, but she paid him no mind as she looked out into the enclosure. Judging from the look on her face, she was pretty smug with herself.
Now, it could possibly have been accidental, but Victor put his hand square on Loki’s shoulder; the exact spot Darcy had struck not five minutes ago. “You can consider it a token of gratitude for the wonders you’ve done for my reputation.” His words said thanks, but his tone said quite the opposite. Still, Loki knew Victor’s egotism was, for the most part, harmless.
“You realize I’m going to start feeling obligated now,” he chuckled, making it sound as if he was saying this in jest.
“Exactly the point.” Startled by his reply, Loki just looked at Victor, attempting to read his face for sincerity. Was he just feigning banter the same way Loki was?
There wasn’t much chance for Loki to analyze this further before their host gestured away from the penguins, towards the opposite direction. “Now come, I have to show you the rest of my new acquisitions.”
---
He would have walked into the doorman holding the door open for them had it not been for Darcy’s guiding hand. Loki didn’t think he was even close to drunk before that last cocktail, but his body had decided to prove him wrong. He tried his best to look sober, often stopping in his tracks to straighten himself up.
It probably wasn’t working because Darcy would laugh at him every time he did so, but to be fair, she wasn’t a picture of sobriety either. Better than he was, maybe, but the redness of her face was definitely not just the result of sloppy make-up application.
Still, she managed to articulate their need for transportation to the doorman, who didn’t question their dishevelled state and simply hailed them the next cab.
Darcy helped Loki in, pulled out her wallet, and handed the driver a large sum of money. She gave directions to Loki’s place, and when Loki realized that she wasn’t joining him, he protested her generosity.
“It’s fine, I’m returning the favor,” she shrugged, sincere enough about it. “Thanks for getting me invited to the drug lord’s party.” The grin on her face was understated, something not very common for her, and Loki couldn’t help but grin back.
“He’s not a drug lord.” The exasperation in his voice was followed by a noise that sounded like a cross between a snort and a giggle.
Darcy put her hands on her hips, as if unimpressed by Loki’s naivety.“Dude, who owns that many animals? Drug lords, that’s who.” Loki knew it was wrong to laugh about such things, especially considering they were just outside said alleged-drug lord’s building. But he did so anyway.
He reclined back into the seat of the cab in defeat. “Thank you Darcy,” he said in resignation.
She smiled one last time and blew him a kiss. “Take care, babe.” She closed the door and waved as the cab drove away.
---
The cab drove on, and Loki ended up just resting against the door, watching all the city lights pass by him in a blur. Eventually, he fell asleep before they reached Tribeca. Although he felt somewhat aware of the world around him, it wasn’t until he heard the sound of the cab driver’s voice that he was pulled back into reality.
“I’m sorry, what?” He blinked, not yet completely regaining control of his bearings.
“We just passed Duane Park,” the cab driver repeated.
At first, Loki could not process the words. He looked outside, and for a few moments, nothing made sense. “Oh, Christ,” he said when his brain finally caught up. “Pull over.”
They stopped next to one of the corners, a few feet away from an open cafe. “Which way now?” the driver asked.
“It’s fine. It’s right there, I can walk,” Loki said, grabbing his things. The driver didn’t question his decision. Loki double checked to see if Darcy’s money had covered the ride’s expenses, and scooted out the moment he knew he had a lot more time to spare. “Keep the change,” he said as he closed the door.
He watched the cab drive away, before collecting himself and walking back to the park across his apartment.
He was all right for a while. Not completely steady in his step, but the line he walked was straight enough. There were no accidental missteps just yet, and his brain wasn’t as foggy as it had been earlier. However, as his proper senses returned to him, so did his awareness that his stomach was getting fed up with all his nonsense.
He clutched his stomach and steadied himself against a wall for support. He knew he was almost home now, and if he could just cross the block, he could probably curl up beside the toilet therapeutically to console his upset insides.
“Hey buddy, you all right?” He looked up and became aware that he had already doubled over, ready to heave. The person’s face was unfamiliar, but didn’t look particularly hostile or dangerous, so Loki didn’t think much of him.
“Who, me?” he asked dumbly as he straightened up in an attempt to appear convincingly fine. “I’m smashing.” He smiled, probably with a grin more lopsided than he would have liked and a slur in his speech he should have tried harder to suppress.
“More like smashed,” said the stranger. Loki might have taken offense to how judgemental it came across, but looking into the stranger’s face, he saw what seemed like genuine concern; something rather nice considering the two of them had never met. “Do you need help or...?”
Loki tried to smile. He composed himself to the best of his ability to reassure the other. “I’m perfectly—“ He couldn’t even finish his sentence before the motion of snapping into proper posture triggered a sudden wave of nausea. Loki spun around as quickly as he could in the direction opposite the stranger, and promptly emptied the contents of his stomach onto the sidewalk.
“Whoa, easy there,” he heard the stranger say.
Loki felt mortified. “Oh god.”
He covered his mouth immediately after he felt he had nothing more to throw up. He was disgusted and embarrassed with himself. Not to say that this had never happened before, but never out in public like this, at the mercy of the judgment of a complete stranger.
He felt a hand pat him hesitantly on the back. “Are you from around here?” the man asked, sounding sincerely concerned.
Still bent over, Loki pointed down the road in the direction of his building. “Mohawk on Duane and Hudson, good sir,” he coughed, trying to remain as composed as he could, given the situation.
The man helped him steady himself as he started to wobble again. “Yeah, okay, listen buddy, I’m gonna walk you back, all right?” Loki worried that something even more humiliating would happen on the way, possibly along the lines of getting vomit on the fellow nice enough to help him out.
“How chivalrous of you,” Loki sighed. The stranger might have taken it for sarcasm, but if he did, it did not deter him from taking Loki by the arm and helping him find his step again. It took a while, but Loki eventually regained some form of control, and was able to trudge back home, stranger in tow.
They were crossing the street towards Duane Park. Loki just kept walking, his head still hanging low, more because of his struggle to find the strength to support the added weight of his lifeless and bordering-on-unresponsive body. He stole a glance at the stranger. Still, his face was not unkind. “So do you do this often?” he murmured, chuckling after realizing how funny he was being.
The man looked at him quizzically. “What do you mean? Do I help walk drunken strangers back to their homes long after midnight?”
“Yes, that.”
A shrug. “Can’t say I do.
Loki laughed again. “Lucky me then.”
He received another look of confusion in return. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll mug you?” he asked in all seriousness.
It was Loki’s turn to shrug. “You would have done it by now,” he answered automatically. He couldn’t say it was because being robbed would not have bothered him so much, as he would have not have missed anything taken off his person right at this moment. Well, he might, but as nice as the stranger was, he didn’t want to give him any ideas.
The man shot a look of amused disbelief at Loki’s nonchalance and just shook his head as they continued walking. It may or may not have been a conscious action, but Loki found himself leaning into the man more than he needed to. He could always blame it on the alcohol if it wasn’t accidental, but he didn’t think to worry about it too much. After all, what were the chances of ever seeing the stranger again?
They crossed the street again and, soon enough, reached a set of familiar doors. “Here we go,” the man said, stopping in front of the Mohawk Atelier.
He let go of the stranger and yet again uselessly straightened himself up too, trying to appear even the slightest bit more respectable. “Why thank you, Mr. After-Hours Gentleman.” He almost bowed, but his body still wasn’t fully cooperating with him yet. Instead, he thanked the stranger with a peck on either side of his face. “I shall forever be in debt to your kindness.”
The man looked like he didn’t know how exactly to react to Loki, but decided on a smile and a polite nod. “Take it easy on the drinks next time, all right?”
Loki just laughed. “Tah,” he sang and waved at the stranger. He looked into his face one last time, and though he realized that the man was his proverbial Good Samaritan, he could not actually commit his features to memory. It was a pity, since he would have at least like to remember the person on the off chance they ever met again, but in the end, he thought little of it.
He walked into the building, still wobbling as he crossed the room. “Good evening, Mr. Odinson. Do you need help?” asked the man behind the front desk.
“I’ll be fine.” He waved reassuringly and made his way into the elevator. He got to his floor with little trouble, but getting his keys out and unlocking his apartment was another thing altogether. It was a bit of a struggle, but eventually, he managed to get it in the correct way and open the door.
He couldn’t remember if he locked the door again on his way in, but he was honestly too tired to care.
He removed things from his pockets and put them down on the nearest surfaces. He shrugged off his jacket, dropping it on the floor, and kicked off his shoes. Whether or not there was anything left to be done, he’d regret not doing it in the morning, because the moment he caught sight of his couch, nothing else mattered but the feel of the cushions under his body.
The comfort lasted a few blissful seconds before he felt a vibration in his pocket from the phone he had neglected to put down somewhere else. He rejected the call without another thought and put it down on the ground. He could only hope that it would not be one of the decisions he would end up regretting after his slumber, not wishing to add another to the list after his decision to drink.
His last thoughts as he drifted off were that of the friendly stranger whose face he already couldn’t remember.