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Parker dropped tiles into place with a practiced hand, occasionally referencing the image on his phone to make sure the arrangement of wood, sheep and clay was as diabolical as possible. “Space for a couple more,” he announced to the room in general, and Rhodes made his way over.
“I’m in,” he said, flopping into the chair next to Loki, who nodded in greeting as he sorted his pieces. Aeslin sat close to his right, their legs occasionally brushing. They’d been hovering around each other like satellites since the paintball match earlier in the day; Loki wasn’t exactly sure why, but he had his suspicions. He had been almost as surprised as Tony at his reaction when Aeslin had dropped in a cloud of yellow paint; a subsequent half-apology while others were cleaning up had earned him an understanding look and an assurance that Tony would have (and had, actually) done the same in his place. Loki glanced over at her, watching as she built her pieces into a sort of sculpture, as she always did, and watching the play of light on her face in turns, and as a result, he almost didn’t hear what Rhodes was saying.
“-Thor and Jane?” he asked.
Darcy answered from the other table, not looking up from her hand of cards. “They snuck out about an hour ago,” she replied as she gestured for Rogers to make his move. “He’s leaving in the morning; I don’t much blame them.”
Tony chuckled. “Do I need to set up some white noise machines? How rowdy do they get?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Darcy said airily. “They’ve always struck me as pretty vanilla, though, unlike some other people in this room.” She looked over the top of her glasses at Loki, who raised an eyebrow. “Don’t give me that look, dude. I read the book Erik got from the library in New Mexico. Had some pretty interesting stories in there about you.”
“You don’t say.”
Her fingers flashed across her phone, and she handed it to Steve, who handed it over his shoulder to Loki without looking, intent on his cards. Loki read in silence for a moment, brow raised, and then he handed it back.
“Well that’s a new one,” he observed.
“Is this when you deny everything? Clutch your pearls and say it’s all a lie?” The intern’s lip twitched, and Loki rolled his eyes.
“Not that it’s your business,” he said coolly, “but although I may have done a lot of things with a lot of beings in my day, I think I’d remember a horse. Especially a male one.”
“So you have no idea how a rumor like that might have gotten started.”
“I’ve got four ideas,” he replied without rancor, balancing a town and two road pieces end to end. “I very much doubt any of them would admit to it, though, and if you’re finished prying into my personal life, I’d rather like to play my game in peace.”
“So no horses,” she went on mercilessly. “Just whips and chains and golden handcuffs?”
Loki stared at her in silence, and her grin got wider.
“Ah,” she replied a little smugly, then leaned back, dropping cards to the table as she took her turn. “So that rumor is true. Nothing to be ashamed of, son. Everybody goes through that awkward experimental phase - sorry.” She lifted her fingers in air quotes as she dropped her voice an octave in a poor execution of Loki's accent. “I meant unrelenting pursuit of knowledge.”
“Make that five ideas,” Loki said, momentarily fascinated by the deep red color Rogers’ ears were turning and well aware of how tight the muscles in Aeslin’s leg were against his own. “Still feeling rejected, are you?”
“You could have at least mentioned it,” Darcy snapped, “before I made an idiot of myself.”
“I would have thought the fourth ‘no, thank you’ and a locked door might have tipped you off. My apologies if I wasn’t clear enough.”
A sudden throat clearing from Rogers. “I appear to be out of… beverage,” he said a little desperately, looking into his cup. He looked over his shoulder. “Is anyone else out of beverage? Loki? Ace? Anyone?”
Loki looked down into his half-full cup. “I also appear to be,” he said kindly, glancing into Aeslin’s almost-full one, “and I’m sure a refill for Doctor Kindle wouldn’t go amiss.” He glanced at Parker as he stood, cup in one hand and pulling Aeslin up with the other. “Hold the game, will you?” he asked with a friendly smile. “We’ll be right back.”
***
“Before you begin,” Loki says to Rogers, “you don’t need to apologize for her. She’s a grown woman; let her do it herself, if she’s got the inclination. If not?” he shrugs as he pokes his head into the fridge, searching for the jar of maraschino cherries. “Not a huge loss. I have friends enough.”
“It’s not that I’m a prude,” Rogers replies helplessly, scrambling for words and lemon wedges at the same time. “I mean, USO shows. I don’t even have to tell you what goes on at those. It was just too much; it wasn’t her place.”
“More and more, I think that’s going to end up carved on my funeral barge,” Loki replies easily. “Either that, or Don’t worry; he meant well, after all.” He tosses a few more cherries into his drink and fills it again, then turns to Aeslin, who has remained oddly silent. He tops off her beverage, then nods to Steve as the other makes his way from the bar and back to the gaming tables.
She stirs her drink gently, watching the bubbles on the surface.
“What’s troubling you?” He rests his hand on her hip, thumb stroking across her side. “Not Miss Lewis, I hope, but I doubt that’s it. I can sense your hackles going up from a mile away, and they’re nowhere to be seen.” He strokes his hand along the back of her neck. “Or felt.”
Her answering grin is faint. “It’s not that. I just…” She won’t look up from her drink, and he waits for her to find the words. They come slowly, thoughtfully. “I think we both know that we’ve got a certain trajectory going,” she says after a moment. “I mean, it can change, even though I don’t think it will, but… I guess I never thought about it.”
“About what?”
“Your history,” she said, stirring slowly. “What you like. What you’re like. I just didn’t think about it, and now I am, and I’m wondering if I’m going to be enough for you.”
He leans against the bar, thumb still circling above her hip. “Is that what this is about? Norns, love. You’re more than enough for me, regardless of what happens. As to any rumored proclivities of mine that might trouble you, know this, and pay attention, because I’m only going to tell you once. You have the perhaps-dubious distinction of being one of two people that know the full extent of what happened to me, at least as far as I can recall details. What, in all that, makes you think that the idea of manacles or chains or anything of the sort holds any kind of appeal for me anymore, if it ever actually did?”
Her breath goes out in a soft whoosh. “Good to know.” She adds a single cherry to her drink, then makes to go past him. He tightens his finger in her belt loop, stopping her in her tracks, and she winces.
“Oh, no you don’t,” he says simply, pulling her back a step. “Come on, little one. Out with it.”
She glances over to the tables, at her drink, anywhere but him, until he lifts her chin. “Tempest,” she finally says. “It hurt. A lot. Add hallucinations and fevers into it, and I was a wreck. According to my file, which I finished reading a few weeks ago, I wouldn’t stop fighting. Lashing out. I was completely out of control, and they couldn’t give me anything to help calm me down or take the pain away; they didn’t want to add something that might interact with the serum.”
He stares at her as the pieces drop into place. “So they chained you.”
“We call them restraints. It sounds better.” A shrug. “Vaguely.”
“They chained you. In a basement.”
“Yes.”
“You were fourteen.”
“Thirteen,” she says with that same faint smile. “I was thirteen.”
They are interrupted by Rhodes asking when they’re going to get started, and he traces his thumb along her jaw, then picks up his drink and walks back with her to the tables.
It is hours before they have another moment to themselves; they sit on the balcony, a blanket around both their shoulders as they stare at the sky.
“We’re a mess,” he finally says, drawing his feet up and bracing his arms on his knees as he looks at her, warm against his side. “Both of us. Alone. Together. You know that, right?”
She sips her cocoa with a smile on her face. “Yeah,” she admits, “but we’re kind of a beautiful one.”
***
They were still sitting on the deck as the sky lightened; Erik was the first to join them, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. He sat in one of the rockers nearby.
“You two been up all night?”
“Wanted to watch the sunrise,” Aeslin told him. “Completely forgot I was on the wrong side of the world. How are you? I didn’t get much of a chance to talk to you, though it would appear you and Doctor Banner have the beginnings of an epic bromance going on.”
“I’m fine,” he replied, and chuckled when Loki’s eyebrow went up. “Really,” he said. “I mean, not perfect, but getting better all the time. I’ve been able to talk to some people, sort some things out. It’s helping. Starting to clear things out up here.” He gestured to his forehead, then at Loki’s. “You?”
“Eighteen days without an incident,” he replied with a grin. “Parker’s made me a sign and everything. It’s on my bathroom mirror.”
“Good kid,” Selvig agreed, and Loki nodded.
“One of the best.”
The conversation flowed into other things as the others began to join them by ones and twos, and soon the balcony was crowded with embraces and well-wishes. Natasha gave Aeslin a brief, fierce hug, and Barton gave her another, much longer one, dragging it out until Loki gave him a bit of a look.
“Mine first,” Barton said unapologetically, squeezing a little tighter until Aeslin thumped weakly on his back with limp hands. “I’ve known her way longer than you have, and we orphan types have to stick together, you know. Hey, come to think of it-”
“No, thank you,” Loki replied, making shooing motions as Barton came for him with arms outstretched and a mock-sympathetic look on his face. “I’m fine.”
“Offer stands, man,” the archer replied with a shrug. “It’s a pretty badass club. Not everyone gets in.”
“Well, once I’ve figured out if I meet the criteria, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
A grin, and then Barton moved to his next target.
Thor appeared last, cornering Loki in a quiet spot and handing him a package.
“Another gift? You’re going to spoil me, Thor.”
His brother laughed a little to cover his clear reluctance to leave. “I know not when I’ll be able to return,” he replied. “Wait to open it until after I’ve gone.” He wrapped a hand around the back of Loki’s neck in the familiar gesture. “Be well, brother.”
“Just one question before you go,” Loki said with half a grin. “The horse. Who started that rumor?”
A briefly stricken look as Thor thought back, then he cleared his throat with an awkward grin. “Fandral. Made it all the way here, did it? Impressive.”
Loki’s lips quirked. “That’s certainly one word for it. Give him my regards, would you? Right before you punch him in his perfect teeth for me, if you’d be so kind.”
“Aye,” said his brother with a laugh. “That, I can do.”
***
They are home again, and Loki is glad for the quiet. They are ensconced in the library, window open to the clear spring air. The Goblin’s Teeth set rests on the floor, the large box a centerpiece in its own right, and Loki smooths a hand appreciatively across the carvings before putting Thor’s last gift atop the lid.
He looks over at Aeslin, who is studying the cloth the game was wrapped in; the deep, blue-black fabric carries the glint of moonlight, and as she glides her fingers across the soft threads, traces of silvery magic follow her touch like glittering schools of fish. Frigga has outdone herself this time, and Loki smiles as he watches Aeslin explore.
“What is it?” she finally asks.
He laughs, stretching out on the floor with head propped on one hand. “You tell me.”
“But you know what it is.”
“I do,” he confirms, “so take a guess.”
“A baby blanket,” she says after a moment’s thought.
“Nope,” he responds, “though I’m sure we can expect a batch of those sooner rather than later.”
A snort. “Not exactly subtle.”
“Frigga is many things. A consummate diplomat. A queen among queens. The very definition of subtlety, except when she’s not.”
“I don’t suppose I can blame her,” Aeslin replies. “After all, a thousand years is quite a long time to be waiting for grandchildren.”
“Then Thor had better get a move on. Try again.”
“A tapestry.”
He takes pity on her and scoots back. “Unfold it all the way, little one, and take a good look.”
It covers a large part of the floor, and Loki is careful to stay away from the edges as Frigga’s masterwork is revealed. It is the night sky, as he knew it would be, the impression of stars and nebulae stretched across the weaving. It is softer than almost anything he has ever felt, and he can see the smile creep around the corners of her lips as she reverently strokes along the constellations.
“You remember what I told you? The words I used when nothing else would reach you?”
“A small part of something much larger,” she recalls, and he smiles as he inclines his head to the shimmering blanket.
“This is another part.” He feels a sudden tightness in his belly, and unsure of why he is so nervous, he bites the bullet and keeps talking. “It’s meant for a marriage bed.”
She doesn’t laugh, doesn’t blush, doesn’t scamper off as though scalded, as he feared she might, and his smile grows fonder as she explores the blanket again. She seems to notice for the first time how the sparkling motes follow her hand, and she moves her fingers in a gentle pattern.
“For a wedding night.”
“Not exactly,” he clarifies. “Marriages on Asgard aren’t much different than ones here, once it all comes down to it. There are marriages of convenience, ones that come and go like the tides, and others that are just part of a contract. Little more than a clause in a treaty. Then again, there are those that last for eternities. Two souls twined for eons, meant for none but each other. Those marriages are what these are reserved for. It’s loaded with magic, if I know my mother, probably much more than what’s normally required. I’m sure she’s been quite thorough. It’s part of a ritual meant to bind a couple. Mind, body, heart, soul, everything. A link far beyond mere marriage. This, elskan, is a rare gift indeed. A token. A blessing on a union that may or may not actually come to fruition, from the very hands of the goddess of marriage - and subtlety - herself.” A smirk. “Can’t ask for much more than that.”
She does laugh then, for a long minute. “Your family,” she manages at last through her giggles as she swipes away a tear. “Sweet Margaret on a monorail, your family.”
“I did warn you, love.”
She gets her laughter mostly under control. “So how would we use it? Theoretically.”
“Theoretically, it’s meant to go beneath… whoever it’s meant for. So you’re between heaven and earth, with both reflected. ‘As above, so below, and let the stars bear witness’. It will change to match the sky above it.”
“Wait. We have use it outside? Theoretically?”
He shakes his head. “Not necessarily. Some do, but it’s not required. I think the stars are probably understanding when it comes to things like couplings in the dead of winter or over-modest virgins.”
Her face is curious. “But I’m not-”
“Neither am I, and it really doesn’t matter. We’re here now, together. That’s the important bit.”
“What do we do with it, then?”
A shrug. “Store it away until we might have use for it,” he says, “and don’t let her sway you. She’s quite persuasive, but don’t rush into anything on her account. Or mine. You haven’t made up your mind yet; don’t let her do it for you.”
She works her way off the blanket, folding it in a surprisingly small square, and carefully picks it up; the thoughtful look on her face as she gently puts it on the bookshelf makes his heart flutter a little. He covers by reaching for the package Thor gave him at the last minute, tugging at the paper snugged around it. A hasty job in cheerful, clearly borrowed wrapping paper. It is a book, he knows, but he is not prepared for the one that drops into his hand.
A Goblin’s Teeth rulebook, and not just any copy. Their copy, battered and torn, spine missing and pages held together with string and the occasional bloodstain. He carefully unties the twine, opening to the last page, and there he sees the tally he and his brother have kept for hundreds of years. A blank page has been tucked into what is left of the back cover, the same sturdy material that makes up the rest of the well-loved book, and Loki extracts a scrap of a note. His brother’s writing is strong and square, with the occasional incongruous spelling or flourish, and Loki smiles at the words.
A page to tally your battles with Kindle’s daughter, it reads. My count is twenty to sixteen, but I might be mistaken. A large space, as if he has added a note after the page was already folded, followed by hastily-written words; it seems to Loki that his brother wrote them quickly, and before thinking better of it. Our page is not yet filled, brother. I look forward to the day we might add another mark to the scores, and I think I care not on which side it will go. Be well.
Loki weighs the book in his hand, a smile on his lips, and he looks up to meet her eyes.
“What is it?” she asks, though from her look, she likely already knew.
The smile widens into a grin. “Among other things? I believe it’s my next project.”