Chapter Text
Avery wasn’t entirely sure what time she left the party. 1 am, maybe? 2? It had just gotten so stifling in the room, all of a sudden. She enjoyed house parties, but more and more often recently, she would be in a room full of people, laughing and drinking, and suddenly she would feel herself falling away from it all, drifting away to someplace inside her head where no one could reach, and she would know it was time to bail.
Her friends had gotten used to it, by now, the way she didn’t even say goodbye or ask if anyone wanted to share a cab home. It had become something of an inside joke, the way that, at some point in the night, Avery would just vanish. One moment, she’d be there, sharing a cig with someone or dancing, and the next, she’d be gone.
Not only did she not share a cab with her friends, or wait for someone to offer her a ride home, on those nights, she didn’t take a car at all. These days, the only thing that could really satisfy her when she got all far away inside was to just… walk. She’d throw on the busted leather jacket she bought at some thrift store last year for $12, stick her earbuds in, and head down the dark city streets with her hands in her pockets.
Maybe not the brightest idea, walking home drunk through the outskirts of Atlanta, in the middle of the night, with The Distillers blaring in her ears, but fuck it. It wasn’t so much that she was brave, she just didn’t care anymore. Let the world do its worst to her. Sometimes, when she was drunk enough, she’d walk in the middle of the street, just fucking daring a car to hit her.
This particular night, the party wasn’t too far from her apartment. A forty, maybe fifty minute walk at most… if she stayed on task. However, she passed a darkened children’s playground, some sad city excuse for a park, and before she knew it, she was seated on a swing, kicking at the ground in an attempt to push herself into motion.
In an entirely predictable chain of events, Avery tumbled backwards off the swing, landing on her back in the dirt with a sharp, “Oof!” She giggled at herself a little, but quickly fell back into silence. Her earbuds had been yanked rudely from her ears, but she could hear Brody Dalle’s voice coming faintly from where they landed a few inches away:
I come down like a bloody rain cuts up the sky
A pulse beating under
Meat petals bloom in a bone garden
Ain’t no god, no ghost, gonna save you now
I sell souls at the side of the road
Would you like to take a number?
As it always did when it was this quiet, the music sounded a little silly. This sort of song was meant to be listened to on full blast or not at all.
Avery considered picking herself up off the ground, but couldn’t really see a reason to. The night air was sharp and crisp, and everything was dark and quiet around her, and she could see the stars. Wasn’t like being back in her own apartment would be better than lying on the ground in a park, looking up at the darkened sky. So she let her body go still, let the cold seep into her bones, drumming her fingertips against her leg in time with the music she could still barely hear.
Not too far away, she could hear the sound of a train whistle. It had always been a daydream of hers to eventually hop one. She wasn’t sure if she would ever have the courage to follow through. Avery knew she wasn’t as cool or fearless as she tried to make herself look. At the end of the day, she lived a pretty boring life, no matter what kind of music she liked or how much metal was in her face. Mostly she went to work and class, and spent the rest of her time alone in her apartment, other than the occasional party or night at the bar.
But still, on nights like this, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Just throwing all her valuables into a backpack and catching the first train she saw. She could just disappear, start over in a new city where no one knew her. Or maybe just keep riding the trains as long as she could manage.
It wasn’t entirely clear to her how long she lay there, but she must have zoned out, maybe even fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew, there was a dark figure looming above her and a foot prodding against her side.
“Jesus fuck!” she swore, instantly rolling up to a sitting position and scrambling away, heart pounding. In the dark, she could barely make out the person’s face at all, but they were tall and slender. They had long hair, but their height and frame suggested they were male. “What the fuck, dude?” she shouted. The anger in her voice did not entirely manage to cover up her fear, but she tried her best. This was her preferred way to deal with men who bothered her in public: just get real mad and scream until they decided she was too crazy to bother with and left her alone.
“My apologies,” the stranger said, his voice smooth and male and… British? Maybe? “I saw a body lying on the ground in the dark and assumed you were dead.”
In some stupid way, his accent, and the formal manner of speaking, made him seem less like an immediate threat, but more eerie and unsettling, like maybe he was some ghost who had just materialized in this park to show her a vision of all of her past sins. Warily, she pushed herself up to her feet.
“Are you a ghost?” Avery blurted out, not sober enough to have much of a filter.
The stranger laughed, his voice soft and musical. “No, I’m not a ghost.” He paused, and then leaned in, like he was confiding a secret. “However, I am also not a human.”
Well, that settled it—either he was a hallucination or he was fucking with her. Avery leaned against the cold metal pole of the swing set and folded her arms, the worn leather of her jacket creaking, doing her best to convey indifference. If he was a hallucination, then she wasn’t in any danger, and if he was fucking with her, then she wasn’t going to let him know that she was nervous. “Oh yeah?” she asked, trying to sound tough. “What are you, then?”
“I’m Loki of Asgard.”
Avery snorted, unable to help herself. Yeah, okay, Loki did exist, and he apparently wasn’t human, from what she’d heard on the news after the whole incident in New York, but there was no way he was hanging around a stupid park in Atlanta in the middle of the night, having a… more or less normal conversation with a drunk college student. But fuck, she might as well play along. If he was crazy, she would out-crazy him. Don’t show fear, she reminded herself.
“I took a class about you,” she informed him, scuffing at the grass with the toe of her doc. “I mean, not like, you you, but like all that Norse shit.” She’d taken the class because it seemed like an easy A and the girl she had a crush on was taking it too. The girl had turned out to have a boyfriend, but the class had been pretty interesting, plus she got some good stories out of it. When she ran out of things to say at bars, she’d just tell random stories about the Norse gods. Stories like… “Hey, did you really fuck a horse, then?”
In the dark, it was difficult to tell if the huff of breath from the stranger was laughter or irritation. “I’m afraid some of the stories about me have been greatly exaggerated.”
“So you just, like, maybe fondled the horse a little bit. Got it.” He didn’t respond, and Avery had to bite down on her lip to keep herself from laughing.
After a moment, the stranger spoke again. “You’re very bold, for a human. I’m beginning to get the impression that you don’t believe me.”
“I don’t,” she responded, without hesitation. Most of her fear was gone now, leaving only curiosity. “If you really are Loki of Asburg, why the fuck are you talking to me? Shouldn’t you be in Space Jail or something?”
“I escaped,” he informed her, rather casually. “Your news channels have not been given permission to share this information yet, as far as I am aware. I suspect they think it would cause panic among the public. As for why I’m talking to you... this conversation is entertaining. It is less predictable than conversations with your kind typically are.”
That’s because you’re talking to a drunk idiot who thinks you might be a hallucination, and is also trying real hard to seem unpredictable and unstable to scare you off in case you’re a sex murderer, Avery thought, but didn’t say. She was unsure whether to be annoyed or impressed by how strongly he was committing to the bit. Anyway, she was getting tired. If he wasn’t going to murder her, she wanted to go home. “If you’re really Loki, then prove it. Do some magic or something.”
She wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but there was a flash of green light, and then a dandelion on the ground suddenly began to grow. It twisted and swayed as it shot upwards, and by the time it stopped, it was nearly three feet tall.
Avery jumped in shock, thumping her head against the pole and hissing in pain. “Fuck!” She glanced around in every direction, as if looking for hidden cameras, before leaning in to inspect the giant flower. She felt a sense of vertigo, from the shift in perspective as much as from the whiskey still fogging up her head. Alice in fucking Wonderland, she thought to herself, suppressing a hysterical giggle. Tentatively, she poked the stem with one finger, as though she expected it to shock her. The flower was solid, though, and shook slightly at her touch.
Taking in a deep breath, on instinct more than anything else, Avery puffed up her cheeks and blew as hard as she could. The fluffy white seeds, each one several inches high, scattered into the wind. She would have expected them to be too heavy to be blown away like that, unless Loki was manipulating that, as well.
Loki. Right. Remembering his presence all of a sudden, she turned to stare at his face, still hidden in shadow.
She had never hallucinated before, not just from drinking. The question was, was it more likely that someone had drugged her drink, or that Loki of Asgard was actually literally here?
“Why are you here?”
He sighed. “It’s a long story.”
“I’m not busy,” Avery said, but a moment later, she shivered. If they were really going to keep talking, maybe this playground wasn’t the best place. Glancing around, her eyes lit on a yellow sign farther down the street. “Hey,” she said, once again speaking before she had a chance to think it through. “You ever been to Waffle House?”
It felt surprisingly un-surreal to see Loki of Asgard sitting across from her in a Waffle House booth, but that was probably because, as Avery firmly believed, Waffle House was a pocket dimension in which literally anything could happen and no one would bat an eye. In fact, until he had explained that he had cast an illusion over himself to avoid notice, she had assumed that was why the waitress hadn’t even hesitated before taking their order. She had probably seen much weirder shit than Loki.
In the harsh, fluorescent lighting, she was able to really see his face for the first time. To be honest, he looked like shit. On the television during the attack on New York, he had seemed pretty gaunt, but up close he looked like death warmed over. His clothes were clean and orderly, but his pale face was covered in bruises, and his eyes were cold and hungry. She had insisted on ordering him a coffee, which he accepted with suspicion that quickly shifted to enthusiasm after the first few sips.
“So,” she said, after a moment of awkwardly staring down at her own massive pile of hash-browns. “You were going to tell me exactly what the hell an evil alien space prince was doing hanging around a playground in the middle of the night?”
“‘Evil alien space prince’,” Loki repeated, wrinkling his nose, as though she had affronted his sense of taste. “You speak boldly. Do you not fear for your life?”
Avery paused with a mouthful of bacon, probably making a stupid face. To be honest, she hadn’t given it much thought, due to being distracted by the more pressing issue of wondering what the fuck was happening and if she was being punked. “Um,” she said, swallowing roughly. “No?”
Loki leaned across the table, his sunken eyes glinting. It would have been an intimidating sight if it weren’t for the giant stack of waffles in front of him. “Surely you have seen what I’m capable of,” he said, his voice low. “I could tear your mortal form apart as easily as swatting a gnat.”
She thought she wasn’t imagining the look of disappointment in his eyes when she continued shoveling food into her mouth, rather than reacting with the proper level of terror.
“I mean, yeah, you totally could,” she admitted. “But I don’t think you will.”
“But you said it yourself: I’m evil. Why do you imagine I would spare you?” He seemed almost puzzled now.
“Because you’ve got no reason to kill me,” Avery said, gesturing at him with her fork. “Like yeah, if you were attacking this city, and I was in a crowd, maybe. But like, I’m not strong or important or anything. I’m not a superhero. There’s nothing in it for you. It would just be kinda sad, honestly, like kicking a puppy.”
She wasn’t really sure why she felt so bold. Mostly it was the sense that this was probably a dream, or some drug-fueled hallucination. None of her actions felt like they had any consequences. And it was fun to confuse him. Sure, intellectually, she knew that he had led a devastating attack on New York City just a few weeks ago, but she’d never been to NYC. It was difficult for her, especially while drunk, to truly believe that the terrifying figure she’d seen on the news was the same as the half-dead looking British dude sitting in this Waffle House.
Still, he seemed to like that answer, because he snorted quietly before answering her original question. It felt satisfying, a little, to feel like she’d exceeded his expectations. She liked surprising people.
In any case, with his curiosity satisfied, Loki deigned to answer her original question. “By chance, I happened upon a means of escape just before my brother was to take me back to Asgard. However, I found myself with nowhere to go. I seem to have made some powerful enemies, and now it is necessary that I keep my head down until I choose a plan of action.”
“Yeah, people tend to get pissed off when you invade their planet,” Avery said. “But weren’t you, like, leading an army? Can’t you go rendezvous with them or something?”
Loki’s eyes darkened. “I’m afraid I am no longer welcome in such company. It seems that half the universe is out for my head because I attempted to invade your planet, but the other half is out for my head because I failed. Between the two, the latter pose the biggest threat to my life.”
Avery took a sip of her overly sweetened coffee and frowned. “Okay, but you can go anywhere in the universe, right? There’s gotta be a better place to hide out than here, especially since your face has been all over the news.”
“Ah, yes. But the fact that you so easily came to that conclusion, despite your lack of knowledge about my situation, implies that it would be easy for others to predict. The logical course of action would be for me to disappear into the far reaches of the galaxy, to a planet where nobody has ever heard of me.
“Meanwhile, it would be incredibly stupid of me to attempt to hide myself right here on Midgard, where, as you pointed out, I am rather infamous. Your very reaction to my presence here is proof that only a fool or a madman would choose such a course of action.”
Avery did not think she was sober enough for this conversation, but she tried her best to follow. “So, you’re here because… you’re trying to do the opposite of what everyone expects of you?” Loki didn’t respond, but merely smiled at her with an expression that reminded her a magician letting the audience in on one of his tricks. After a moment, she shrugged and took another bite of her food. “Why are you telling me this?”
It took him so long to answer that she thought he might have decided to just ignore the question. He turned and stared out the window into the dark parking lot outside. In profile, his face was sharp and pointed, as though his features were crafted from glass.
“As I said, the entire universe wants me dead at this point. Everyone I interact with is either quaking in terror or treating me like a rabid dog to be put down. Indifference is not a response I receive often these days, and I must admit, it is somewhat refreshing. You seem to have no agenda beyond asking inane questions and feeding me strange geometric-patterned baked goods. I find it pleasant, to be able to speak of what’s on my mind without the expected power games.” His lip quirked upward as he continued. “Besides, should you choose to report this encounter to the authorities, no one would believe you, and then I would return for you and snap your neck.”
Maybe fewer people would want you dead if you could have a conversation with someone without threatening them, Avery thought, but didn’t say.
In truth, this situation felt surprisingly natural to her. As long as she could remember, people had been telling Avery things they weren’t supposed to. People often said she was ‘easy to talk to.’ Maybe she was just too disinterested to be judgmental, but for whatever reason, she always ended up being entrusted with more secrets than she really knew what to do with. Sometimes it felt like a very boring superpower, like there was a field around her that loosened people’s tongues. So, on some level, she felt like, why shouldn’t it apply to supervillains as well?
“Hey, can I ask you a stupid question?” she blurted out. Loki arched one eyebrow at her imperiously, waiting for her to continue. “If you’re from space, then why are you British?”
Loki laughed softly, seemingly caught off guard. He had a nice laugh, actually. Not maniacal or villainous at all, just honey-smooth and slightly hesitant, as though pleasantly surprised by his ability to be entertained. She found herself wondering how long it had been since he’d laughed like that.
“I am not purposefully adopting any Midgardian accent,” he told her. She still didn’t really get why he was speaking English at all, unless he was using some sort of babel fish thingamajig, but she let it go.
They kept on talking for awhile. Well, more accurately, Loki talked. Avery asked questions, sipped her coffee, and occasionally teased him, but mostly she just listened. She liked it better this way, not being pressured to talk about herself. Loki didn’t care, anyway. She was just some random human to him. He was a bit full of himself, with an obvious sense of entitlement to her attention, but he was also sharp and interesting, so she didn’t mind listening to him. Though, as the night grew later, she found herself leaning on her hand, until, finally, she realized with a start that she had nearly fallen face-first into her plate.
Avery yawned and stretched, and Loki shot her a look of surprise, as though he expected her to be sitting there captivated by everything he said. She was a little reluctant to leave, given that this was the most interesting thing that had happened to her in, well, probably ever, but the siren song of her bed was getting too strong to resist.
“I think I’m gonna have to call it a night,” she said, and when Loki merely raised an eyebrow, she explained, “I’m going home. To sleep. We mortals do that, you know.”
Loki sat back in the booth, watching her as she went up to the counter and paid the check. It wasn’t until they were outside again, in the chilly air of the parking lot, that he responded. “I sleep as well.”
Avery felt about five seconds away from passing out, uninhibited by exhaustion more than drink at this point, so she wryly responded, “Good for you,” and patted the god on the arm. He gave her a startled look in return. He didn’t seem to be leaving, so she continued. “Are you… going to go? To wherever it is you sleep, I mean.”
“Ah. I haven’t quite… worked that out yet.”
Awkward. If anyone else had said that to her, Avery might have assumed they were fishing for something, either a place to crash or, possibly, a way into her bed. (It wasn’t that kind of thing, though, right? She hoped not. She was not drunk enough to hook up with a supervillain, no matter how charming.) Given the vastly different cultures, it was hard to tell what Loki meant by it, but, acting on impulse once again, she blurted out, “I’ve got a couch.” Which, again, earned her a puzzled look. She would probably need to get in the habit of explaining herself more if she was going to be talking to Asgardians on a regular basis. “It’s, um, in the place where I live. It’s something that a person can sleep on. It’s not very comfortable, and you’re probably a bit tall for it, but it’s better than nothing.”
Of course, she realized a moment later, he could probably just enchant some random hotel owner into letting him in, or maybe just fucking conjure a bed out of some tree branches or some such fae nonsense, but Loki looked oddly grateful despite all that. “Thank you. That is very kind of you.”
Avery found herself wondering if he’d had a lot of etiquette training, being a prince and all. For all of his arrogance (and, also, the whole supervillain thing), she had to admit the man had good manners.
Unfortunately, all of the etiquette training in the world couldn’t hide Loki’s distaste when he saw the inside of her apartment.
“This is where you live?” he asked, sounding about as incredulous as Avery had when he’d first revealed his identity. “It’s not the servants’ quarters?”
“Most humans don’t have servants, dude,” Avery explained wearily. Okay, she knew her tiny one-bedroom apartment wasn’t the nicest place. There might have been a few takeout containers scattered around, and the window blinds were broken, and there were a few mysterious stains on the carpet. But fuck, she could barely afford even this much. She had finally decided to get her own place after one too many horrible roommates.
“Ah,” Loki said, in the most judgmental tone of voice imaginable. “Well. Where is this couch that you spoke of earlier?”
Feeling awkward, Avery gestured at the dingy-looking sofa pushed up against the wall. Loki stared at her, incredulity all over his face.
“You mean for me to sleep on that?”
Christ, what had she done to deserve this? She just wanted to go to fucking bed, and here she was having to introduce space royalty to the concept of ‘crashing on a couch.’
“Look, man, this is what I’ve got,” Avery said, grabbing a threadbare blanket out of the closet in the hallway as she talked. She spun around and tossed the blanket at Loki, who caught it effortlessly. “Take it or leave it. If you have any better offers…”
There was a thoughtful expression on his face, and then he did that green hand-wavy thing again. She watched as the couch stretched itself, gaining a foot in length and a fair bit of depth, and the brown corduroy fabric shifted into a dark green velvet. The blanket levitated out of his hands, shifting in midair to a thick, plush comforter. Finally, the green light passed over Loki, from head to toe, and his black suit transformed itself into a pair of black silk pajamas.
The entire set-up looked comically out of place, like someone had dropped a set piece from some Victorian film in her living room, right next to the overcrowded coffee table (still covered in takeout containers, ashtrays, and a quite grody-looking bong).
Avery realized she was gaping and forced herself to shut her mouth. “Or you could do that, I guess,” she mumbled. “Uh, well, I’m going to bed. The bathroom is through that door. Please try not to blow my apartment up with magic while I sleep.”
In the moment that she went to walk down the hallway to her open bedroom door, though, Loki snapped his fingers, and there was another flash of green light.