Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It started at night.

Quiet, the stars above you, the lights of the town illuminating your path. Peaceful.

You wouldn’t know peace like that again for a long time, not after this.

Not after him.

It was cold that night, unseasonably so, and you really hadn’t dressed accordingly. Work got off late. You didn’t know fall decided to come so fast. It was the type of cold that seeped into your bones, grabbing you around the throat, the type of dull chill that didn’t totally fill your lungs unless you took a few breaths of it. Your thin jacket wasn’t really doing the trick of keeping you warm, the leggings and skirt combo not really doing you any favors either.

You wrapped your arms around yourself as you walked, casting your eyes to the ground, breath beginning to show in front of your face in bursts of pale mist.

It was fitting that you met him on a cold night.

You hurried your pace, eager to get home and to get warm. There was a cup of hot tea with your name on it; all you had to do was brew it. You opened your purse, rifling through it for your phone, switching the device on once you found it. You had a few texts, some notifications for games, but nothing out of the ordinary. One of your friends had texted you a meme, but that was about the most interesting thing you could find.

Ordinary. That was a word you could use to describe that night. Everything felt clean, simple, routine. It felt ordinary. You looked up at the sky, watched the twinkle of the stars through the glare of the street lights, eyes casting back to the ground as you entered the downtown area.

“Hey.”

You ignored the voice, continuing to walk, even when a hand closed around your wrist, slipping your phone back into your purse.

“Hey, I’m talkin’ to you.”

And I’m ignoring you.

You wrenched your wrist free, then fumbled for your keys in your purse, wrapping your hand around them so they stuck out from between your fingers like pseudo claws, tucking your hand into your jacket pocket. If this man wanted to pick a fight, you’d punch him in the groin and run. You wanted to get home, not get hurt.

“Hey, bitch, when a man is talking, you answer.”

You ignored him again, not turning back to look, but you were stopped in your tracks when he grabbed your shoulder. You wrenched it off, continuing to walk.

Then, he grabbed both your arms, hard, forcing you to stop. Your grip tightened on your key ring.

“Give me your fucking bag. All your money.”

You could smell the alcohol on this man, and you figured that if he was sober, he probably wouldn’t be doing this, but that’s wishful thinking. You always did try to see the good in people. The man could be a total scumbag for all you knew.

But you were stubborn.

“No,” you spat, struggling against his hold, “let me go. Go sober up. Let’s not do anything we regret.”

A low, dark chuckle. The man pulled you into the nearby alleyway, and flipped you so your back was against the bricks, and you got your first look at him.

He was rather burly with messy brown hair that looked like it needed a good wash. His eyes were grey, his face unshaven. He looked scruffy. He was dressed in a red sweatshirt and jeans.

Another man came around the corner, bigger than the one pinning you down, and his hands went to your bag.

I’m being mugged.

You opened your mouth to scream, but you were met with a slap to the face, sending you reeling. You felt blood running down your lip.

“Please,” you said, “stop, let me go.”

The cool steel of a knife blade pressed against your throat. Your mind went into panic mode, adrenaline suddenly thundering through your veins. Your eyes began to scan the alleyway, looking for anything you could use, but your only weapon was your key ring, and your arms were being held down. You could barely struggle. Your legs were free, though.

Come on. Pull through.

You shoved your fear aside, bringing a leg up to knee the man in the groin as hard as you could, making his hands shoot down between his legs, effectively freeing you. You punched the man rifling through your bag with the hand holding the keys, and you heard a sickening crack and a howl of pain, giving you enough time to shove past him and run.

You didn’t make it very far.

The man you’d punched grabbed your leg, sending you careening forward onto the sidewalk, your palms painfully scraping the pavement, and you swiveled onto your back, kicking the man’s hand with all of your might. There was blood running down his face from a rather nasty gash in his temple, undoubtedly from where you’d punched him. Your mouth hurt, the flavor on your tongue a coppery one. You’d bitten your tongue in your fall.

Something was building inside of you.

The man let go of your ankle after you kicked him for a third time, but the other man was on his feet, looming over you. Your eyes searched the deserted street, but you found no one.

Until there was someone.

Your eyes fell on a man standing on the street corner. His back was to you, so you couldn’t make out his features, but he was wearing a trench coat and he was tall. That was all you could see.

You were sure if he turned, he could see you trying to claw your way out of the alley, see these large men trying to take advantage of you, and you knew things would just get worse for you because you resisted.

“Let me go!”

Your head hurt. You felt like something was expanding in your chest.

One of the men covered your mouth, yanking your purse from your body, flinging it away down the alleyway and dragging you back into the space. You bit down on his fingers as hard as you could, making him pull away, and you screamed. At the top of your lungs.

The men exchanged nervous looks, but after your scream was met with dead silence, their expressions turned into smug ones.

“Scream all you want, bitch. Nobody is gonna hear you.”

“Fuck. You.”

You spat a mouthful of blood at him.

A dark chuckle. “If that’s what you want.”

Fear closed around your heart, cold as ice, and you shook your head.

“No. No, I don’t. Get away—”

That feeling was back, the building feeling, though this time, you didn’t think it was going to stop. You kicked and struggled against the men, aware that you were fighting a losing battle. They were going to do things to you that you couldn’t imagine, things you never wanted to imagine happening to yourself.

You couldn’t let that happen.

No.

No. No. Nonononononono—

You shrieked again as a hand met your waist, and suddenly, the world erupted into sound, and blue light was flaring behind your eyelids. You heard other screams, but they weren’t yours. Something was exploding around you, something you couldn’t control, something scary and volatile. You waited until the screaming had stopped, your body having curled into a ball. It felt like hours until you finally opened your eyes, but it was probably only a few minutes.

You looked around, eyes wide. One of the men, the one in the red sweatshirt, was laying face down on the pavement. There was a dark stain beneath him that made your blood run cold. The other one, the bigger one, was nowhere to be seen. You could smell blood. It was so strong it made your stomach roll.

Something wet hit your cheek. Once. Twice. Again.

You looked up.

You regretted doing that.

The bigger man was on the fire escape. You didn’t know how he could have gotten up there, but the blood from that cut on his forehead was dripping down. He was laying on his side, arms and legs splayed out, one of his arms obviously broken. You didn’t know if he was alive.

You didn’t know if the other man was alive, either. But he was so still that you had to consider the fact that you might have just killed someone. The question was, how?

You hesitantly crept forward, watching the man on the ground, and you noticed he was, in fact breathing, though it was shallow. He was out cold. You grabbed your purse from where it had been thrown, gathering up whatever had spilled out. When you looked up, you noticed that the man on the street corner was now standing at the mouth of the alley.

He was tall and slim, but his stature suggested he had some muscle. He had shoulder length black hair, pushed back away from his face. He was handsome in a way you hadn’t seen before, almost ethereal. He had narrow lips and a straight nose, his skin almost unnaturally pale. And his eyes.

His eyes were a piercing shade of blue. Blue like ice.

He was dressed in a black trench coat with slacks and dress shoes, a green scarf with gold embroidery at the hem around his neck. Black gloves were on his hands. Everything about him was neat and tidy.

You stared at each other for a little while.

Did he save me?

He was looking at you, his expression unreadable, dark eyebrows pressed together just slightly. He was looking at you like you were something he’d never seen before.

He had to have been the one to save you. You weren’t able to do that. Did you have a momentary lapse of consciousness where you gained some ability to knock two grown men out?

“Thank you,” you said, pulling yourself to your feet. Your knees were stinging, and when you looked down, you noticed you’d scraped yourself up pretty bad.

The man was quiet. He shifted his weight, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall, those piercing eyes still fixed on your face.

“Why are you thanking me?”

He spoke with an accent. British. He had a voice like velvet, warm as honey.

You snorted. “You save me, didn’t you?”

He shook his head. “No. I did not.”

More silence as this sunk in. You heard a groan of pain, and you looked down to see the man in the red sweatshirt shifting, beginning to wake up. Mr.  Blue Eyes barely flinched before his foot was on the man’s back, flattening him to the ground. The action was practice, brutal. You jerked back.

“What exactly are you? I’m usually good at telling.”

You looked at him, confused. “What? Human. What—”

“No, you are decidedly not human, girl. I sense something else.”

Your mind came to a screeching halt. “Excuse me?!”

Blue eyes approached you, and you backed against the wall, so he stood a foot away, eyes darting across your face. His hand came out to touch your face, and you could feel its chill, even through the gloves he was wearing.

“I cannot tell what you are, but Midgardian is only part of it. Strange.”

You pushed his hand away, ducking past him. “What happened? ”

“Not sure. But you—”

“No!” You cried, “No, no, no, you tell me what the fuck just happened, because I am in the dark here. These men are out cold and all I did was scream. I saw a blue light, and here you are, whoever the hell you are—“

“Whoever I am? Foolish mortal, I am—“

“Don’t interrupt me,” you said, “I don’t know who you are, am I supposed to? The world doesn’t revolve around you.”

The man’s eyes were suddenly a vibrant, emerald green, seeming to glow, and you fell quiet.

“Watch your tongue, you insolent girl—“

Nausea suddenly rolled over you, and you turned and vomited up the contents of your stomach. It stung, like stomach acid was mixed in, and when you were done, there was blood in your mouth. You fell to your knees, shaking violently. Something was wrong. Something was inside of you, in your veins, pulsing so strongly that it nearly incapacitated you. It was like it had been dormant, now running free, coursing through you faster than you could handle.

“Curious...”

You shot the man a glare.

“It’s like you cannot control your own magic. What are you even worth as a sorceress?”

Your glare shifted to confusion. “Sorceress? I’m not a sorceress.”

A dry chuckle. “Well. You’re something, then. Because I know magic, and that was it.”

You were quiet.

“Is that man, the one up there, is he—“

“Dead? Yes. Neck is broken by the looks of it.”

That would be sticking with you for a while. You shoved it to the back of your mind.

“Who are you?” You asked quietly.

Silence. You were growing tired of silence.

“I am Loki.”

You frowned. “Is that Norse?”

“I suppose so, yes.”

You finally stood, catching yourself on the wall when you stumbled. “Please, tell me what happened.”

Loki sighed. “Fine, if you insist on begging.”

You frowned again. “I’m not—“

“Those men attacked you, and you defended yourself. You didn’t... How do you not know what you just did? That was powerful magic. Quite magnificent, really. I, myself, am a sorcerer, I would know magic when I see it.”

“Start making sense!” You cried, and it happened again, that blue light, tendrils of cerulean energy pulsing across the ground, but Loki merely waved a hand to deflect it.

His eyes were green again. Just for a moment. You scrambled back, holding your hands in front of your face, certain that your horror was displayed across your face.

“What was that?! ”

Loki chewed his lip. “You seriously don’t know? Girl—“

“My name isn’t girl, it’s (Y/N). Use it.”

“Fine. (Y/N), then. You’re unaware of your own powers, which is incredibly strange. Most sorceresses your age— what, early twenties?— have mastered at least enough spells to make them a force to be reckoned with to the inexperienced magic-user, but you. You’re different.”

Loki approached you, taking your hands in his own.

“Such power. And you have no idea what you are.”

You sputtered. “I’m sorry, back up. I’m a sorceress? I— Magic?! What?! ”

“There exist beings across the nine realms which possess magical abilities, innate or learned. You are one of these beings, though it is rather rare on Midgard for a mortal such as yourself to possess such innate power. It is possible to develop abilities, there are temples across your earth containing such sorcerers. You’re just one of those few that have your own power without any development. You’re like me. Except I’m no mortal, I’m Asgardian.”

You coughed, bursting into laughter. “Really. Really.”

“Yes, really. Do you mishear me? I do not wish to repeat myself. Now, as curious as all of this is, I’d rather not stick around for when S.H.I.E.L.D. Inevitably shows up. We don’t exactly have the most...  cordial of relationships.”

He gave you a tight smile that didn’t totally reach his eyes, then turned, most likely fully intending to round that corner and be gone from your life forever, but you needed him to stay, something inside of you demanded it.

“Wait!”

Loki looked over his shoulder.

“No.”

You lunged forward, grabbing his wrist, but he wrenched free with impossible strength, continuing to walk. You followed after him, glancing back at the men in the alley with regret in your eyes.

“Please, wait.”

“Let me be, mortal.”

You felt something in you tighten, and the blue energy was back, almost like it was leaking from under your skin, and then you were on the ground, convulsing as pain shot through your body. Loki looked down at you with eyes as wide as saucers.

He knelt beside you, helping you sit up.

“You can’t control your own power. It’s like you have too much. This much power without any restraint could easily kill you. How did this happen to you?”

Kill me?!

You shook your head. “It never has before. Please.”

You coughed, the action painful. You felt that waning control again.

“Please,” you repeated, “help me.”

Loki sighed. “I’m not exactly a good samaritan, (Y/N), In fact, I’m more of the opposite.”

Something in his voice was sad.

You struggled to your feet, but toppled over again. Loki caught you around the waist.

“Help me control this, I don’t wanna die.”

Loki seemed to ignore you. “The fact that you’re even still alive is a miracle in and of itself. This much raw power is astonishing.”

“Okay!” You cried, “I get it! I’m powerful! But right now, I—”

You threw up again, and once you were done, Loki pressed a hand to your forehead.

“You’re not well.”

You looked at him incredulously. “Oh, you think?”

“You speak to divinity, girl, watch your tongue.”

“I don’t give a fuck about anything right now. Just... please get me home.”

Loki regarded you. “What in the nine realms makes you think I know where that is?”

You sighed. “I was going to give you directions. I doubt I’ll be able to get home on my own.”

“Fine,” Loki said, “lead the way.”

You pointed. “Across that park. See the brick house? That’s the one.”

Loki suddenly picked you up, carrying you towards the building, and when you struggled to get free, his grip was like iron, unyielding. He really was something else. Something inhuman.

“Kick me and I drop you,” he quipped, “but we cannot get to your dwelling if you are falling all over yourself.”

You supposed he was right.

Loki set you down once you were on the doorstep, and you fumbled through your disorganized purse for your keys, inserting the correct one into the lock and pushing the door open. You stumbled inside and flopped down onto the couch.

You looked up. “Come in. Don’t just stand in the doorway.”

“What exactly makes you think I will be staying here with you?”

You looked at him over the back of the couch, eyes narrowed.

“You said it yourself. This much power could kill me. I’m still letting the fact that I snapped a man’s neck sink in. I’m a killer. That’s something I never wanted to be. And now I have these abilities which you also have. You told me about this, you were there when my life was flipped upside down, so if you have any heart, help me find out what’s wrong with me.”

Loki crossed his arms. He considered it, then smiled.

“No. Find someone else.”

“Like who?!”

Loki shrugged. “Don’t know. It isn’t my problem. But it’s best you find someone fast. Those powers, if gone unchecked, could get... destructive.”

You chuckled, bitterly. “Why?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Why what?”

“Why won’t you help me?”

Loki entered the house, closing the door behind him. He leaned against the back of the couch, tilting his head down to look at you.

“Because,” he said, “There’s nothing in it for me.”

You scoffed. “Really.”

“Yes, really . I live on a system of give and take. So—”

“I’ll pay you.”

He rolled his eyes. “I do not need your Midgardian money.”

You thought for a moment.

“I’ll owe you.”

That seemed to pique his interest. “You’ll owe me?”

You had a feeling you were walking into something dangerous. But you were desperate.

“Yes,” you said, “I’ll owe you.”

Loki shifted, standing back up to his full height before circling the couch to sit beside you.

“Now, what will you owe me? What would a young, middle class Midgardian woman have to offer me that I would value?”

You thought about this.

“Free room and board. And—”

“Not interested.”

You scowled. “Let me finish.”

Loki laced his hands together. “Very well. Continue.”

“My life,” you said, “I’ll owe you my life.”

“That’s quite the bargaining chip, (Y/N).”

You snorted. “Yeah, well I’m desperate.”

Loki fixed you with his intense gaze. “You realize what you’re promising me, right? You’re promising me any favor I desire, whenever I desire, to be redeemed when I please. Actually, scratch that, You’re offering me many favors. You’ll be indebted to me, yes?”

You had a funny feeling about this. Like you were getting in over your head.

Hell, you already were in over your head. What would a little more hurt?

“Yes,” you said, “I realize what I’m promising you. Take it or leave it. Infinite redeemable favors from a middle class Midgardian woman at your beck and call. With some exceptions.”

“Exceptions?”

You nodded. “Don’t make your favors creepy . And don’t destroy my life for your own amusement.”

“Well. Fair enough.”

“Then,” you said, propping yourself up on your elbows with some difficulty, “do we have a deal?”

Loki smiled. It was a mischievous smile. He took your hand from your lap, shaking it in his own larger one.

“Yes. As long as you still offer room and board, we do indeed have a deal.”

You were definitely in over your head.

Chapter Text

You woke up the next morning on the couch, still fully dressed. Your head hurt.

Hell, your everything hurt. 

Someone was knocking at the door.

You got up after a few tries, using the wall to steady yourself, making your way to the door. Your head was swimming, the nausea was back, and you wanted to sit down. You felt sick. 

“Just a minute!” You called, hobbling to your bedroom.

The bed was a mess, but you’d gotten up in a hurry the morning before, so you hadn’t had time to make it. You sat down on the mattress, taking a moment or two to breathe before standing up and ridding yourself of your dirty clothes. You replaced them with a pair of shorts and an oversized hoodie, tying your messy hair into a ponytail. The remnants of your makeup were in the form of dark circles beneath your eyes, but the knocking at the door was getting louder and more frantic, so you went back into the living room.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” you muttered.

You unlocked the door and pulled it open.

There was a man in a suit on the other side of the door. He was taller than you by a good few inches with close cropped greying hair and hazel eyes. His face was creased with smile lines. He had a pleasant face, you decided. You leaned against the door frame.

“Can I help you?”

Is this about last night?

You had murdered a man. Of course someone would come for you. You had to have been captured on a security camera. But you didn’t mean to. It wasn’t meant to happen that way. But the men who were hurt had tried to hurt you. Maybe Loki was right. You were defending yourself. Self defense was a probable cause, but how on earth were you supposed to explain how you had been able to hoist a large, fully grown man up onto a fire escape?

Speaking of Loki, where was he?

You didn’t move your gaze from the man in front of you. 

“Good morning, Miss (L/N), I’m Agent Phil Coulson with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. I’m here to ask you a few questions. May I come in?”

You paused. Of course a S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent would show up. Because your life just had to get even more complicated. 

You smiled tightly. “Yeah, come in.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, “I’m not feeling too well.”

You heard a crash from the kitchen. Both you and Agent Coulson looked up in surprise.

“Do you have guests?” Coulson asked, and your mind raced for an answer.

You remembered what Loki had said about not having a good relationship with S.H.I.E.L.D., so you tried to avoid telling this agent he was here. 

“Yes. I mean no. I— It’s my cat.”

Smooth, (Y/N).

You didn’t know what Loki’s problem with S.H.I.E.L.D. was. But with his rather devil-may-care attitude, you guessed he had problems with most figures of authority.

Coulson stared at you, a slight smile on his face. “You sound unsure.”

You shook your head, maybe too quickly. “No, I’m not unsure.”

“You’re lying.”

”What?”

He sighed. “I’ll just cut to the chase, it’s not my business who you have here unless it’s a major threat to security. A man named Daniel Ackerman was found dead early this morning on a fire escape across the park from here, and the only window that led to that escape was locked from the inside. Did you see anything last night?”

You didn’t know how to answer, and you knew that it would eat you up inside to lie, but you didn’t want to go to jail. Your powers would hurt people in such close quarters, and the last thing you wanted was more blood on your hands.

Tears stung your eyes. “It...”

You suddenly felt the urge to vomit again, and you bolted up, scurrying to the bathroom, emptying the contents of your stomach. You could feel your control slipping again. After wiping your mouth and washing your face to make yourself feel a bit cleaner, you went back into the living room.

”You need to leave.”

Coulson looked at you quizzically. “You haven’t answered my question.”

Energy was bubbling to the surface, like someone had shaken a soda bottle and all that pent up carbon dioxide was fighting to get free. You shook your head, gesturing to the door.

“Go!”

“Miss (L/N)—”

“Listen to me, I don’t want to hurt you.”

You didn’t mean to say that. You covered your mouth.

“Hurt me?”

You slid to the floor, curling into a ball.

“I didn’t— I can’t control it. I didn’t mean to.”

You looked up to see Coulson sit down beside you. “Start from the beginning.”

“I was walking home from work,” you said, “and these two men jumped me. They tried to mug me. I tried to escape, but they caught me and were gonna... take advantage of me. But then something happened, and I couldn’t control it, but the next thing I knew, one man was on the ground and the other was on the fire escape.”

You had to swallow a lump in your throat.

“Dead.”

You began to cry.

“I didn’t mean to, I swear. It’s eating me up inside that I killed someone, I’m so, so sorry—”

“You did what you had to do.”

You looked up, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. “W-what?”

“It was self defense. Those men would have hurt you. Your abilities protected you. It isn’t your fault.”

You sniffled. “Did the other man survive?”

Coulson nodded. “He’s in critical condition, but he’ll live.”

Another crash in the kitchen made you and Coulson both turn your heads, and Coulson stood up, signaling for you to stay there. 

“No!”

Coulson looked confused. “No?”

“It’s just—”

A smile. “Your cat? I’ve heard the sounds a cat makes. That isn’t it.”

You scrambled to your feet to follow him into the kitchen.

Loki was, indeed in the kitchen. He looked at Agent Coulson like he was seeing a ghost. Coulson’s expression was similar.

“I thought you were dead,” Loki said.

Coulson snorted. “I was. Long story. Now, would you mind telling me why on earth you’re in this woman’s house? Did you do this to her?”

Loki looked at Coulson incredulously, arms crossing. “I am afraid I do not have that kind of power. This woman had those powers before I met her. And really, (Y/N), a cat? Is that what I am? A pet? I’m frankly insulted. Though, I suppose you could have picked a worse animal.”

“Pets aside, what the hell are you doing here?”

Loki shrugged. “I’m allowed to do what I like, last I checked. I have not harmed a hair on this woman’s head, and in fact, I have agreed to help her control that magic of hers.”

Coulson didn’t look convinced. “You’re the god of tricks. How am I supposed to know if you’re telling the truth? You started an alien invasion that destroyed a good portion of New York City. You killed me and countless others. You’re a monster. Excuse me if I don’t take your word for it.”

Oh. He hadn’t mentioned that he’d been the one who started the Battle of fucking New York. You knew the person who started it had been Asgardian, but as a member of the general public, you hadn’t been given all the details. Loki regarded you, looking a bit sheepish.

“Did I not mention that?”

“No,” you spat, “must’ve left that bit out.”

But you couldn’t let him leave. He was the only one you could think of who could possibly help you.

You squirmed. “I need him.”

Loki smirked. “Right. Forgot the part where I made a deal with her. I may be the god of tricks, but I uphold my promises.”

Coulson rolled his eyes. “That’s a lie and you know it.”

“Yes, I do.”

You looked at Coulson, eyes desperate. “I need him because if I don’t get my powers under control, they will kill me. He knows how to help me.”

”And what makes you think you can trust him?”

You raked your hands through your hair. “I’m desperate!”

“And she owes me.”

Silence. Coulson wrung his hands. 

“She owes you? Owes you what?”

Loki tilted his head. “Her life. Infinite favors for me to cash in. Could be a worthy endeavor.”

Coulson’s eyes darted from you to Loki, then back to you. “You promised him your life?”

“You make that sound like he might kill me,” you said.

“He killed me!”

“And yet,” Loki said, gesturing to Coulson in a grand flourish, “here you are.”

Coulson sighed. “Touché. Alright, fine. Only because Doctor Strange is pretty much unreachable to most, I’ll allow it. But only if you do it in S.H.I.E.L.D. Custody.”

Loki grinned. It was an unsettling grin. “You remember how trying to contain me went last time, Agent. I will not come peacefully, and you know what havoc I can wreak.”

Loki circled Coulson and you, reminding you very much of a panther, sleek and dark and lithe. His eyes had turned that odd green color again.

“Oh yes, I believe you remember best of all, don’t you? But, if you allow me to stay here, in this house, I can assure you that no harm will come to this woman or this world. That is my offer. Take it or leave it.”

Coulson seemed to know he was playing with fire. 

“No,” you blurted.

“See?” Coulson said, “she agrees with me.”

“Actually, no, I don’t,” you said.

“Oh.”

“I’m saying no to staying in this house. I want to be somewhere where I can’t hurt anyone. Like... Somewhere in the country. I can’t work like this, who knows if I’ll have a lapse in control, I could kill someone again. But I don’t have the money to move, and—”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. Will provide a location,” Coulson interjected, “we can relocate you to a home in upstate New York, easy for S.H.I.E.L.D. to monitor and easy for your supplies to be delivered. It will be in a secure location that only myself, the director, and my team know of. You will be safe. And Loki.”

Loki raised his eyebrows.

“You put a single golden horn over the line and I’ll call your brother to ship your ass back to Asgard.”

Loki smiled again. “You will not regret it.”

Coulson sighed. “God, I hope not. You will be flown to New York early tomorrow morning, so pack your clothes and essentials. The house comes fully furnished, but be sure to bring whatever you like. Comforters, lamps, knickknacks, personal items.”

He took a breath. “I have a lot of phone calls to make.”

Coulson left after that, assuring you he’d be there to pick you up in the morning, and you were alone with Loki.

“You didn’t tell me you started the Battle of New York,” you said.

“It’s something that has to come up in conversation, I think. How in the nine realms am I supposed to tell you I did something of that magnitude without it already being the topic?”

“Okay, fair.”

You went into the living room again, crossing into the hall where you stored your suitcases. Loki watched you.

“What are you doing?”

You glanced at him over your shoulder. “Packing.”

The suitcase was on a high shelf, so you had to stand on your tiptoes to try and grab it, but Loki walked up behind you, lifting the suitcase down with ease. You thanked him silently before dragging them into your room.

You plopped down on the bed, gazing around the room at the things you needed to pack wearily. 

It was going to be a long day.

Chapter Text

You spent the whole day packing, and when you finally slept, it was barely dark enough to consider nighttime. You slept restlessly, waking up at odd hours of the night, and when you woke for the final time, your alarm was blaring, telling you to get up for work. You shut it off, rolled over, and closed your eyes again. Unfortunately, you couldn’t fall back asleep, so you got out of bed, nearly tripping over a suitcase you’d left by the door.

Right.

You were leaving today.

You went about your morning routine, taking a shower and getting dressed in something comfortable for travel, consisting of a soft green hoodie with jeans and ankle boots, then heading to the kitchen to make some coffee. 

“Miss (L/N).”

You jumped about a foot in the air, and you were lucky you hadn’t been holding anything since you undoubtedly would have dropped it. Agent Coulson was standing in your kitchen. He was nonchalantly leaning against the kitchen table, a paper cup of coffee in his hand, which he handed to you. You took it gingerly, still regaining your composure.

“Thanks,” you said, taking a sip of the drink. 

“Hope you don’t mind pumpkin spice,” Coulson said, “I find it especially delicious this time of year.”

“No, I like it,” you replied, “thanks for the coffee.”

“Where are your bags?”

You gestured behind you. “Bedroom.”

Something was missing. Or, rather, someone.

“Where’s Loki?”

“In the car,” Coulson replied, “I’ll help you with your bags.”

After that was said and done, you were led outside. The stars were still out, the smallest sliver of dawn just beginning to crawl over the horizon. There  was a van parked in front of your home, a black one with tinted windows. The paint was polished so you could see your reflection in it.

“No logo?” You asked.

“We’re incognito today,” Coulson said with a smile.

Coulson opened the doors in the back, helping you load your suitcases inside, followed by you yourself. 

The inside of the van was actually rather nice. It was obviously a small mobile base of operations for missions, complete with padded seats and countless electrical outlets. A panel separated the cabin, the only view inside available through a glass pane embedded in the separating panel which was currently open. Loki was sitting near the panel, his eyes meeting yours when you entered the vehicle. 

He was dressed in the same civilian clothes he had been wearing when you met him, and you were sure you’d probably recognize him as the villain he was in New York if he wore that helmet he was usually depicted with. He gave you a tight smile.

“Why didn’t you help me with bags?” You asked as you slid into a seat across from him.

Loki raised his hands wordlessly to display the handcuffs that were binding his wrists together. “I’m afraid I can’t do much of anything right now.”

You looked at him quizzically. “What’s stopping you from breaking free from those?”

“They’re made of Vibranium. Not impossible to break through, just annoying.”

You had to wonder how physically strong Loki was to be able to break through Vibranium. It alarmed you slightly. 

The van jerked forward as you began to move out, and you turned to look through the windows in the back at your house, unsure of when you’d see it again.

Or, hell, if you’d see it again.

You watched the town go by for a while before putting your earbuds in and your playlist on shuffle. You took a slow drink of your coffee before placing it in a nearby cup holder. 

Loki looked bored in his seat across from you, his position relaxed. He sat with his legs slightly apart, cuffed hands resting between them. He was also staring out the window, his angular features highlighted by the low light filtering in through the tinted glass, making him seem to glow. You had to admit he was attractive. Any person with eyes could see that. He didn’t look dangerous like this, bathed in the new morning light as it grew ever brighter, dark hair shining like spilled ink. 

He looked peaceful.

You snapped your eyes back to the window and away from him as the music playing in your earbuds reached a crescendo, figuring that you shouldn’t feed his ego with your admiring glances. You had a feeling he knew he was good looking. Maybe he’d even used it to deceive hapless girls before. Coulson did say he was the god of tricks. That peace you saw could merely be him plotting, the cogs in his head turning as he imagined using his magic or that terrible brute strength to kill everyone in the van.

When you glanced back at him, his eyes were on you, face devoid of expression. You smiled.

He seemed to be taken aback by that.

Your eyelids were growing heavy; car rides tended to make you sleepy. After struggling to keep a coherent thought for a while, you let your eyes fully slip closed, falling into a dreamless sleep.

You woke on and off as the drive continued, walking to eat once Coulson stopped by a fast food place to pick up some breakfast. You stayed awake a while after that, trying to make conversation with Loki, but that only seemed to annoy him, so you went back to sleep.

When you awoke the final time, the van had stopped, and a man in tactical gear with the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo displayed on one of his shoulders was leading Loki from the van. You turned off your music and got to your feet after stretching, following them.

The van was parked in an airfield. You knew what Quinjets were, but you’d never seen one up close.

You had no idea where this airfield was, you had been asleep for most of the drive, but it was a massive mess of runways and traffic cones and planes of all shapes and sizes, complete with rows of Quinjets and bustling agents loading vehicles with weapons and other various objects they’d need for missions. The sun was up, though the darkness of the night still remained in part as light was bursting over the horizon to cast it away. The sky was a watercolor spill of orange fading into soft blue, then darkening into the star speckled sky above you. Your phone told you it was six in the morning. Nights always got longer at this time of year. 

And chillier, you noted.

You helped load your suitcases onto a Quinjet, which looked about what you expected of a military transport vehicle. The inside was a monochrome of grays and blacks, the walls lined with jump seats. The cockpit was separated by a dip in the floor, a large windshield in the front. There were racks for weapons above the jump seats. Coulson, accompanied by another agent entered the Quinjet along with you as the hatch closed.

The other agent was a short Asian woman with severe features and an air of no-nonsense. She was cooly beautiful with sharp features and black hair that fell just past her shoulders. She wore a leather jacket, cinched at the waist and zipped up along with a pair of dark jeans and combat boots. She stood with a straight-backed posture, her eyes flickering from you to Loki, then back to you.

“Miss (L/N), this is Agent Melinda May.”

Agent May simply nodded at you in acknowledgment.

“She will be helping with the relocation.”

You smiled. “Lovely to meet you.”

“Likewise,” May said, her expression unchanging.

You sat down in one of the jump seats, fastening yourself in.

“You look exhausted,” May said to you as she crossed to the front of the jet, getting into the captain’s chair.

“Yes, well,” Loki said, “magic is straining her body. Exhaustion is inevitable.”

“Why is he here again?” May asked, and Coulson sighed.

“Just get us off the ground.”

No surprise, you slept most of the way to the house, only waking when the jet landed. You helped May and Coulson get your luggage off of the Quinjet, and only after Loki was off as well did you take in your surroundings.

You were in the middle of the forest, and it was colder than it had been before. The forest around you was made up of dense spruce trees, the smell of pine sharp in the air. The sun, now fully risen, was shining through the boughs in pinpricks of light. Then, you looked at the house.

It was a two story house, certainly fitting the whole cabin-in-the-woods aesthetic. It was an elegant house with a grey flagstone foundation and dark wood siding. A paved path led up towards the large porch, which was fenced in. The left of the patio was lush with greenery, surrounding a window with the curtains drawn. The front door was a pair of double doors, and a pair of large windows were on either side of the door, making the whole thing look wider. Similar windows were on the floor above to achieve a mirror look. The roof was gabled with black shingles. There was also a matching garage sitting adjacent. All and all, it was a cozy looking home.

You stepped forward, pine needles and fallen leaves crunching under your boots. You heard similar sounds as your companions followed you up to the porch. 

Coulson produced a key from his pocket, inserting it into the lock. After the doors were pushed open, he handed you the key, which you stared at.

“You’re not a prisoner, Miss (L/N),” Coulson said, “you’re free to come and go in and outside as you please, but you must remain living here until you have sufficient control of your powers. There is a car in the garage, which you can use to access the nearby small town, only in case of emergency. Agents will deliver groceries and supplies weekly. Loki is not permitted to leave the premises past the point we landed or an electric shock will be delivered. He can come in and outside and walk about the area as he pleases, but there is an underground electric fence which will shock him if he tries to pass over it.”

Loki stared at him. “I’m being treated like a disobedient mutt.”

“Basically, yeah. You’re Asgardian, so the shock won’t kill you, but it will certainly hurt. Here’s your shock collar. It doubles as a tracker so we can monitor your location.”

Coulson handed Loki a slim silver bracelet, which the latter put on without a word. Coulson handed you one as well.

“I get shocked if I try to leave, too?”

Coulson shook his head. “No, that’s just a tracker. Unlike him, you aren’t a major threat to humanity. That’s something you have to prove, and he did that when he leveled a portion of New York City.”

You put the bracelet on. It instantly locked around your wrist, and as you turned it, you noticed there was no easy way to get it off without force. You suspected Loki’s was even harder to get off.

“There are two bedrooms in the main house and an apartment above the garage,” Coulson explained, “the fridge and pantry are fully stocked. The two of you will be monitored closely and as per our agreement, Loki will train you daily until you have sufficient mastery of your powers. Try not to burn the house down. Oh, and Loki.”

Loki looked at him.

“Expect a visit from your brother soon.”

An exasperated sigh. “Of course.”

After giving you a few more general details, Coulson left, leaving you alone with several suitcases and the God of Mischief. 

You turned and went inside. 

The house was as pretty inside as it was on the outside. When you first walked in, you entered a front room. An archway parallel to the front doors lead to the living room, another one on the right leading to the kitchen. There was another door on the left which was closed. The front room and living room had hardwood floors and the walls were papered with white. 

There was a rack for shoes beside the door, another one for coats on the other side. The room was warmly lit by a hanging lamp. Wooden console tables were pressed against the walls on either side of the arch leading to the living room, collections of general knickknacks and small plants (fake, upon closer inspection) decorating them. 

The living room was spacious with a fireplace made up of white bricks on the right wall, a television mounted above it. A large sectioned dark leather sofa sat before it, a matching love seat as well. The coffee table was made of oak wood with a glass top, a bowl of fake lemons on it. A chandelier hung above the sitting area, casting soft, pleasant light through the room. The stairs were in the top left corner of the room, a bookshelf sitting beside them, stuffed with beaten up volumes. Another book case was beside the fireplace. Various prints from famous artists hung on the walls, including one of Van Gogh’s Starry Night. 

To your left was a door leading to a small room, which upon checking, you discovered to be a laundry room.

You turned back to the front door to see Loki pulling a few of your suitcases in.

“Oh,” you said, a little surprised, “thanks.”

“If we are going to be living together, I will do my part.”

You blinked.

“Do you not have common courtesy on Midgard?”

You smiled. “No, we do. You were just kind of...”

The look in his eyes was dangerous, as if warning you to choose your words carefully.

“Never mind,” you finally said, “can you help me get these upstairs? They’re pretty heavy and two people are better than one.”

Loki lifted the two heaviest suitcases without so much as a grimace, walking past you and up the stairs wordlessly. You followed after him with the smaller two. You still had a few boxes left to grab, but you’d get those on your second trip. 

The stairs led up to a spacious hallway, and to your direct right was a pair of double doors, which you figured you’d have to explore later. At the end of the hall was a pair of doors, which you assumed were bedrooms. You took the door on the left, gesturing for Loki to follow you, which he did.

The room was rectangular in shape, walls papered with soft blue, speckled with little white flowers. Wide windows let the new morning light into the room, making every particle of dust in the air seem to glow. The bed was against the back wall, the headboard pressed against the middle window. The bed itself had a dark rattan frame, the duvet a pale blue with clouds patterned across it. There was a blanket chest at the foot of the bed, a nightstand on either side of the bed. Lamps with pale shades sat on the nightstands, unlit. There was a desk in the right corner of the room, a desktop computer on it. Across from the bed on the opposite wall was a dresser with a mirror built in. A small sectioned couch was in the left corner, and beside a door you assumed led to the bathroom was a bookshelf. 

It was a cozy room.

You set the suitcases down with a huff of effort, turning to address Loki only to find that he had left. You frowned, going back downstairs to collect the last few of your boxes.

Once that was done, you emptied the contents of the suitcases into the dresser, placing your own personal items around the room. You then went into the bathroom.

The bathroom was also large and spacious. The floors were tiled with black marble, the walls tiled with white. To your left was a large shower with glass walls, which you opened to deposit your shampoo, conditioner, and body wash into. You set your makeup kit on the console table beside the door. Beside the shower on the left wall was a double sink with a large mirror hanging above it. There was a rattan hamper beside it. The toilet was on the other side of the room, and finally, in the right corner beside the door was a whirlpool bath. You stared at it longingly, sure that you’d be using it plenty.

Paralell to the door that led to your bedroom, across the bathroom was another door. You approached it curiously, opening it.

You were expecting a closet. Not another bedroom.

The wallpaper was a soft green, patterned with pale blooms, the floor the same dark wood as your room. The bed was certainly king sized as opposed to your queen sized, the duvet a deep emerald green. A large chest was against the foot of the bed, and like your own bedroom, nightstands were on either side of the bed. Unlike your room, however, there was an alcove, a desk situated there. A large wardrobe was on the wall to your right. In the left corner nearest to the door was a large leather sectioned couch. There was a window beside the couch, a telescope pointing out of it. Beside the telescope was a bookcase. A settee with green cushions was against the wall beside the door.

Wait.

This meant you were sharing a bathroom with Loki.

Your mind was suddenly filled with the oddest of scenarios, not limited to him walking in on you in the shower or the other way around. You backed out of the bedroom quickly, shutting the door after you, but your back bumped against something.

You turned. Loki. You couldn’t hide your blush.

Loki simply smirked. “What a lovely color on you.”

He pushed past you and exited into the bedroom, leaving you to stand in silence alone, his words echoing in your head.

Did he just flirt with me?

You shook your head to clear it of the sudden mist that had filled it, stumbling back to your room. You shouldn’t get flustered that easily. He was just a man. 

A very handsome man.

Who you were going to be spending an indefinite amount of time with, all alone in the woods. 

Should I flirt back? Is he just messing with me?

You ran a hand through your hair, taking a slow breath to compose yourself. 

But the thought of the smirk that had spread across his face when he’d seen your flustered state just made you blush all over again.

After composing yourself further, you turned to face the bathroom door, your own smirk on your lips.

Well, then. Two can play at that game.