Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This is ridiculous.

Loki was standing in the middle of the room, his fly open, cock in hand. He tried to concentrate on the screen before him, where two people were merrily banging, obviously having a much better time than he was.

Just a couple of minutes, and then you can go home.

The room was sterile, grey walls adorned with indistinct art pieces, destined to be ignored from the moment they were created. There was a chair, a bed, and a counter where the plastic jar they gave him when he came in here was waiting for now.

Waiting to be filled with his sperm.

He was all in favor of getting this over with as soon as possible, which is why he was trying to ignore the fact that his exposed bum, pumping steadily as he worked himself, was cold. Someone had thought to leave some magazines on the counter, which Loki noticed with an incredulous smile.

As if anyone would need to use those anymore.

He had his phone. He didn’t need anything else. Or so he thought, but as it turns out, trying to ejaculate in a clinical setting was completely different than masturbating for fun in the privacy of his bedroom. There, at least, he was allowed to use lube.

“It hurts the sperm quality,” the nurse had explained before leading him into this room, “but people seem to do just fine without it.”

Rude, Loki thought to himself but said nothing out loud. The faster he got it over with, the better.

Damn you, Thor, he thought to himself, and then groaned in frustration, because the last thing he needed in this situation was to think of his brother, of all people. Still, if it wasn’t for him and the stupid bet, he wouldn’t be in here right now.

About to donate sperm, just to prove to his brother that he would.

No, don’t think about Thor, he chided himself, concentrating instead on the couple on the screen, staring as the well-endowed man pumped his ridiculously large cock in and out of the petite woman. She was almost screaming now, her voice starting to climb to a crescendo as she was about to reach climax. Loki concentrated, pictured himself with this woman, pushing his cock into her, again and again, making her desperately call out his name.

All of a sudden he was very close, and he scrambled for the plastic cup as the woman in the video was shouting out her orgasm. His eyes closed, her lovely voice in his ears, he moaned as he released streaks of pearly white cum into the plastic cup.

After it was over, still shaking, he put the cup back on the counter. With unsteady hands he screwed the lid, pulled up his pants and fastened the belt. There was a small metal hatch in the wall where he was to put the cup with his ‘specimen’, and for one awkward moment he wondered if whoever was on the other side had heard everything that happened in this room.

It doesn’t matter, he told himself finally. They probably listen to guys cum in here all fucking day.

It didn’t make him feel better, for some reason.

In the small sink he washed his hands and splashed cold water on his face. Looking in the mirror, he smiled to himself like a pleased cat. He did it. He gave sperm. That would show Thor who has “difficulty to perform”.

Ha.

When he went outside, the lady at the front desk smiled at him.

“Find everything okay?” she asked pleasantly.

Oh, yes, I found masturbating in a grey clinical environment strangely uplifting, he thought dryly.

Out loud he said “yes, quite. Thank you.”

“When is a good time for you to come again?” she asked, ignoring his surprised huff as if she didn’t realize what she just said. “Does next Wednesday work?”

“Yes,” he lied, knowing full well that despite committing to donate sperm once a week, he had no intention of ever setting foot here again.

“Great!” she said, chirp. “Ten o’clock?”

“Sounds good,” he gave her a fake smile, and she returned a real one.

She’s kind of cute, he thought absentmindedly, sorry now that he could never possibly see her ever again. Not after the circumstances of their meeting.

Outside, the sun was shining. He felt light, triumphant. Once he reached the bus stop he took out the receipt from the sperm bank and took a selfie with it, smiling wide.

Done, brother, he wrote in the text. You owe me 20 bucks.

Thor sent back a mind-blown emoji, and a few laughing ones.

Damn, brother, I didn’t think you had it in you, he wrote. I hope whatever poor woman choses to have your baby wouldn’t live to regret it.

Loki froze, staring at the screen incredulously.

A baby.

For some reason, throughout the whole process of volunteering to be a sperm donor, it never once occurred to him that his sperm might ever be used to create an actual baby. He pondered this for a few minutes, perplexed.

They said they were looking for commitment, he thought to himself eventually, and I only ever did this once. If I don’t come back again, there’s no way they will keep it.

Somewhat comforted by this thought, he shook himself out of his stupor. With a little smile and light steps, he began making his way home. This had been a long day. A hot bath and a glass of wine seemed in order just about now.

Chapter Text

The morning air was cold, with white mist hanging over the forested hills. Sylvie loved this hour, with its quiet and solitude. Here, on the hidden wooded trail, she could pretend for a moment that she was completely alone.

Around the bend in the trail, high up near the top of the hill, a gap in the trees opened to show the entire valley. Sylvie stopped mid-run, entranced by the beauty of it. Winter was nearing its end, and hesitant green buds were beginning to grow on branches everywhere. Before her, the entire world lay bare, sweet and asleep.

She took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill her lungs and color her cheeks red. For just a moment she was completely happy and content, and then a bark and a laugh shattered the illusion all at once.

A small group of people was making its way on the trail, accompanied by an overly excited golden retriever that was hopping and skipping around way too much. The people, two adults and a small child, seemed awfully cheerful for this early hour.

The woman had brown hair, tied in a ponytail, and was wearing glasses with bulky, bright red frames. The man was short and slightly chubby, with a peculiar waddle to his walk. They were holding the child between them, swinging her up in the air every few steps, to her great delight.

“Again!” she called and her mother groaned.

“I can’t feel my arm anymore!” she said.

“Please?” the girl said in a small, saccharine voice.

“Oh, alright,” the mom surrendered with a huff, and up in the air the girl went again.

They continued progressing in this manner, passing by Sylvie who quite forgot to pretend that she wasn’t looking at them.

“Good morning!” they said as they went by. Sylvie returned the greeting, unable to resist the smiles. They seemed so genuinely happy that it almost broke her heart.

“Hey, I know you!” the woman said. “You work over at Moe’s, right?”

“Moe’s…?” Sylvie asked, confused. “Do you mean Mobius?”

“Yes,” the woman said, in a tone that implied that it should be obvious. “You know, the outdoor store.”

“In that case, yes, I do,” Sylvie said. “But I don’t remember seeing you there.”

 “I’ve only been once or twice,” the woman said. “My advisor’s fiancé goes there a lot, and they dragged me along with them.”

“Really?” Sylvie said. “Who’s he?”

“You know Thor?” the women asked. “Big guy, lots of muscle? He owns the rock climbing gym down on Main.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sylvie said. “Of course. He does come by a lot, yeah. So Jane’s your advisor?”

“Yes,” the woman said. “You know, at the observatory. Have you ever been?”

Sylvie shook her head.

“You should go sometime,” her husband chimed in. “They have open night every third Tuesday of the month.”

“Maybe,” Sylvie said, smiling noncommittally.

“Well, it was nice meeting you,” the woman said. “I’m Darcy. In case we run into each other again.”

Sylvie introduced herself.

“Come on, Howard,” Darcy said to her husband and they continued walking down the path. Their little girl stayed momentarily behind.

“I like your hair,” she told Sylvie. She was tiny, maybe four years old, with a head full of red curls. They fell around her head like messy feathers, and Sylvie wondered absentmindedly when they were last brushed.

“Thank you,” Sylvie answered softy. “I like yours.”

The girl beamed.

“Come on, Birdy!” Darcy called, and the girl broke into a run to catch up to her parents. When she reached them, they took her hands again, and continued their swinging trek down the trail.  Sylvie looked after them until they disappeared from sight, her heart aching.

*

Once at home, she showered and hastily dressed for her workday. Her apartment was small but cozy, with a little balcony filled with flowering plants. She gave them some water, checked there was enough seed in the bird feeder, and sat down to have a quick cup of coffee before work.

Absentmindedly she wondered what to get herself for her birthday, which already happened last week (and she was unfortunately too exhausted to do anything about). What did people even do when they turned thirty five, she wondered. What did people do in general?

Having grown up the way she did, she was anything but an authority on people. Her parents, long gone now, were both nature nuts and survivalists. They raised her the way they liked, spending most days out in the wilderness.

Her mother made sure that she could read, write and do basic math, but she never made much progress in her studies past multiplication and division. She did, however, know more than almost anyone else how to live off the land.

She could walk through a forest and know at a glance which berries were poison and which were good to eat; same thing with mushrooms, although those were more tricky. She could put wire traps for rabbits and then skin and cook them over a fire that she lit without using matches. She could use the rabbit bones to make gorge hooks, fish with them and then clean and cook the fish. She knew her way around guns and knives, first aid from band-aids to suturing, and every medicinal use the plants around her had.

In simple terms, Sylvie was the right person to have around in case of an apocalypse, because not only would she be able to survive it, she could probably kick some zombie butt, too.

It was no surprise, then, that she found herself working at an outdoor store. Mobius couldn’t resist her vast knowledge, and so he hired her immediately when she came to inquire about a job. Working in a store wasn’t her dream or anything, but it was nice enough. Mobius was a kind boss, at least, and she liked the town.

None of this was a dream. Her life didn’t have much room in it for dreams, not since her parents died and she had to make it on her own. That was a long time ago, now. As it turned out, surviving among people was a completely different affair than doing so among plants and animals. Sylvie wasn’t sure she had the right skill set, really, but it was either that or going out into the wilderness completely alone.

And Sylvie was sick of being alone. Sick to her stomach, actually. She remembered the little family she met this morning: they just seemed so happy. They were singing an old Kiss song, which made her like them instantly, and even the annoying dog was cute.

But what they had really, at the end of the day, was something Sylvie had been longing for: they belonged. They were not just a group of people, but a family. And right there, in her blooming balcony with coffee in hand, Sylvie finally realized what she’d been missing.

*

“You want to have a baby?” Mobius asked, puzzled.

“Yes,” Sylvie said, slightly impatient. They were stacking products on the shelves near the entrance. Spring was coming up, and everyone was into water bottles and fancy hats all of a sudden. “So? What’s the problem with that?”

“No problem,” Mobius answered quickly. “It’s just that…” he trailed off, giving her a careful look from the corner of his eye.

She stopped what she was doing long enough to glare at him, hands on her hips.

“Well?” she asked pointedly. “Get on with it.”

“It’s just…it never occurred to me that it was something you’d want,” Mobius said, bending over to straighten a messy shelf while carefully avoiding her gaze.

Sylvie sighed. He did have a point.

“Its wasn’t,” she admitted. “Until recently, anyway.”

She’d never been one to fawn over babies. Sure, they were cute enough when she got to spend time with them, if they weren’t crying or slobbery or had smelly diapers. Or sticky. Babies were often sticky, for some unfathomable reason, and she was never confident enough to ask their parents why that was.

No, Sylvie didn’t give much thought to babies until the last couple of years. They were something other people had, normal people. People with friends and decent jobs and parents who could help them out. People in relationships, if they were lucky enough to have those.

Sylvie had never been lucky in the relationship department. Any relationship, really, not just the romantic ones. When she was young she was so often out in the wilderness that it was hard to make and keep friendships. Her parents moved around a lot, taking their only child with them. They had a cat, for a while, until it ran away one day and never came back. They had a few plants in the camper, she supposed, but relationships with them tended to be rather one-sided.

As for romantic relationships…there had been a few. There was Ravonna, her first love, who broke her heart thoroughly when she ran off with that chirpy redhead. Victor, who was too smart for his own good and also kind of an ass. Val was fun, for a while, until they fell off because they couldn’t agree which type of knife was better for skinning a dear (they had been drunk at the time, and Val was wrong anyway).

No, her romantic history wasn’t exactly stellar. Her employment history was nothing to talk about either. Ever since her late teens she’d been supporting herself with odd jobs. She worked at McDonalds, Starbucks, various bars, a cattle farm, a lumber yard and, swiftly, at a roller skating rink (no one in town ever dared even mention that one).

Still, she got by. She made acquaintances easily, at least. She knew all the shopkeepers in town by name. She’d had this job for a while now, too, and seemed to be doing well. There was Mobius, who seemed like the kind to agree to be the emergency contact on school registration forms. That had to count for something, right?

It’s not that she’d always wanted a baby…but she did now. The feeling had snuck up on her sometime between her last failed relationship and her last birthday. She found herself noticing pregnant women, stroking their bellies in absentminded circles. Women with tiny babies held close to their bodies in carriers. Car seats being held by tired looking dads, tiny hands and tiny feet peeking out.

She wasn’t sure exactly when the baby fever hit her, but hit her it most certainly did.

She tried to fight it, for a while. Tried to ignore it, reason with it, negotiate with it. But the empty feeling in her belly grew stronger every day, a hole within herself that screamed “baby, now!” until she just had to give into it or she’ll go nuts.

“So…” Mobius asked, pulling her gently back to the present. “How are you planning to do it?”

“What do you mean?” Sylvie asked, confused.

“A baby,” Mobius explained. “Do you have someone you’re planning to do it with, or is this more of a solo adventure?”

“Hmm,” Sylvie said, thoughtful. “That’s a good question. Did you know there’s an app for sperm donors?”

“There’s an app for everything,” Mobius shrugged, smiling lightly.

“Yeah, you can swipe left or right and everything.”

“I don’t know…” Mobius said, his forehead wrinkled in thought. “Does that mean the person stays in your life? Do you have to…or…how does that work?”

“I don’t know,” Sylvie admitted. “I’m not sure I want to know who the guy is, all things considered.”

“Why not?” Mobius asked. “Don’t you want a name to give the kid when the time comes?”

“Not if that’s someone that wants nothing to do with them,” Sylvie said. “What’s the point in knowing who your father is if they don’t even want to know you?”

“Never thought of it that way,” said Mobius, who up until that morning never thought of it at all.

“Yeah,” Sylvie said, shrugging. “I think I’ll just do it the old fashioned way.”

“What, find a good man and get married?” Mobius asked.

“Not that old fashioned,” Sylvie smirked. “I’ll go to a sperm bank. I hear they have catalogues and everything. Height, hair color, eye color. They even give you the guy’s hobbies!”

“Fancy,” Mobius said.

“Yeah,” Sylvie smiled. “I mean, I might as well do it properly.”

Mobius didn’t reply. He was a little worried about this baby idea, which seemed to come out of nowhere. But still, Sylvie was an adult. He supposed she was in charge of her own life. She was nothing if not a survivor, that one; he was sure she could survive raising a baby.

“Come on,” he said, checking his watch. “It’s a minute to nine. Time to open the store.”

Chapter Text

Loki’s head hurt. His eyes weren’t faring too well either. He thought maybe he should have gone easy on the wine last night, but it was too late to turn back time now. He often forgot that he wasn’t as young as he once was, but unfortunately his body remembered full well.

He hated hangovers.

“Are you listening, Loki?”

Loki lifted his gaze to meet his father’s. Odin had been drawling on and on about this new acquisition he wanted to make. It was very important for the company to expand, and this could be their ticket to the big-leagues, he said.

“Yes, of-course, father.”

“Good. Because I trust that you to take this seriously,” Odin said, stern.

“I always take things seriously,” Loki replied.

Odin gave him an even look.

“I sure hope so,” he said after a long moment of uncomfortable silence, “because this acquisition is important. The future of this company is dependent on it.”

“I know,” Loki said, trying to convey a calm that he didn’t feel. “I won’t let you down.”

“I hope not,” Odin said. He didn’t bother to sound convinced.

“Have I ever?” Loki asked, aiming for a poker-face and only just failing.

Odin didn’t reply.

I shouldn’t have asked, Loki thought bitterly.

“Will that be all, father?” he asked when it was clear that Odin wasn’t going to say anymore.

“Yes, Loki. Thank you,” Odin said curtly.

Loki nodded and left the office without further discussion.

He should have known his father didn’t trust him. He only gave him this job because of family ties, after all, not because he thought he deserved it. It wasn’t as if he’d ever expected him to achieve anything, anyway.

When Loki was little, he tried very hard to make his father proud of him. He busted his ass in school, which was ridiculously easy for him anyway. He learned three languages, was a mathlete and even got third place in the state’s spelling bee when he was in fourth grade. Which would have made his father proud, he supposed, if he’d ever bothered to come to any of these things.

For some reason, Odin never seemed to find the time to attend Loki’s fencing contests or piano recitals. He would pet him on the head when he was presented with the medals, maybe, but never gave it any more attention than that.

He did, however, go to all of Thor’s wrestling events, was present at every football game and even made it to the national youth rock-climbing championship, the one year that Thor had made the cut.

Thor didn’t do too well in school, as opposed to Loki, but it didn’t stop Odin from promising to hand over the company to him when the time came.

“It’s not about book-smarts,” he’d often say when Thor would come home with the inevitable progress report full of B’s and C’s. “It’s about having a knack for competition and a killer instinct.”

“I have a killer instinct,” Loki would then say, to which Odin would only snort and reply “of course you do, son.”

No, it wasn’t easy being the second son, Loki supposed. Nor was it easy to be Hela, Odin’s daughter from his first marriage, who they only saw on the holidays and over summer break. When she was around Loki would follow her everywhere, even though she wasn’t even nice to him, just because she was the only one in the family that looked even remotely like him.

He hadn’t seen her in years, now. She stopped showing up the year that she left for college, and they never heard from her again. He should have followed her example, Loki thought bitterly, instead of staying to fill the Thor shaped hole that was left in the company after his brother resigned.

He couldn’t even fault Thor, really. He was ill-suited for the job, too trusting and hot-headed to make the deals and negotiations required for such a business. He was too outdoorsy to ever be content in an office building where the windows didn’t open, stuffed in a suit that was threatening to rip over his (ridiculously large) biceps.

When Thor left the company, Loki was fresh out of college. He’d gone to a good school and studied economics and business, graduating summa cum laude. Odin was away at a conference at the time of graduation, but he sent Loki a voice message where he congratulated him on his accomplishment. He didn’t sound too proud, but Loki assumed he had other things on his mind. Frigga was there, of course, and so was Thor, who gave him a huge pat on the back when he came off the stage in his cap and gown.

“Well done, brother,” Thor bellowed. “I can’t wait to vote for you when you run for office.”

Loki had no intention of ever running for any office, except the corner one at the top floor of the family company; but he smiled at his brother nonetheless.

That was the most infuriating thing about Thor: he was just so damn nice.

When they were little, Thor would threaten Loki’s would-be-bullies into submission. When he got a date for the prom, he made sure her little sister would go with his little brother. Whenever Loki came back home with another perfect progress report, Thor would jokingly call him a nerd, the smile on his face betraying his genuine pride in his brother.

“It’s good that you got all the brains, brother,” he told him once in a moment of jest, “because you had to get something after I got all the looks.”

“Looks fade, brains are forever,” Loki said haughtily.

“No they’re not,” Thor replied. “Heard about dementia?”

And he ran away laughing when Loki pulled out one of his throwing knives (the knife throwing was a hobby. It was something Loki would do in the afternoons to calm his nerves. It’s not like he pictured his father’s or brother’s face every time he was aiming for the target, anyway).

Either way, Thor didn’t last more than a year in the company, and his shoes were still too big for Loki to fill in all the years he had tried since. Odin let him rise through the ranks without interfering, until he arrived at the position of VP of sales and acquisition all on his own merit. Well, the fact that his father owned the company probably didn’t hurt his chances, but Loki was fairly sure that he’d had gotten the job anyway. He thought so. He hoped so, anyway.

When he got back to his office, he saw that Thor left a message.

“Lunch?” was all it said, and Loki replied “you’re buying.”

*

“This has to be short,” Loki said without preamble as he sat down at the deli, “father just entrusted me with a huge acquisition so I don’t have much time.”

“Relax, brother,” Thor said easily. “Whatever it is, we all know you’ll nail it.”

“Well, some of us do,” Loki mumbled sulkily. He was pretty sure Thor was only pretending not to have heard him.

“So,” he said out loud, “it’s not often that you ask me out on a weekday like this. What’s up?”

“Great news, brother,” Thor said. “I’m getting married!”

“I…know you are,” Loki said slowly. “You and Jane have been engaged for ages.”

“Yes,” Thor said, deflating a little, “but we finally set the date. We’re getting married in June, and that means you have to start working on the bachelor’s party.”

“The…wait, are you asking me to be your best man?” Loki asked, choking on the piece of bread he had been munching on.

“Well, yeah,” Thor said. “Of course I am.”

“But…but I thought you’d ask Heimdall, or, or…I don’t know, Fendral or something. Or Sif, yeah, she’d make a great best man.”

“She would,” Thor admitted, “but she’s not a man.”

“Well, that’s just misogynistic, brother – “

“Besides,” Thor cut him off, “she hates Jane. So she’s invited to the bachelor party, but she won’t be organizing it. As for Heimdall, he’s on sabbatical in India. He said something about getting rid of all of his earthly possessions and meditating for a year. I haven’t heard from him in months.”

“I thought he worked for the CIA,” Loki said.

“I mean, maybe?” Thor said, squinting as if thinking about it was physically hurting him. “I don’t know. It could all be a cover. At any rate, he’s not here. The best man is you. Understood?”

Loki blinked at his brother, confused.

“So…you really want me to be your best man, then?” he asked, touched.

“Of course,” Thor said. “You’re my brother.”

“I’m…honored,” Loki said truthfully.

“Good,” Thor said, “so it’s settled.”

“So I’m assuming strippers and gambling are out of the question then?” Loki asked, making sure they were on the same page.

“Only if I want Jane not to kill me,” Thor replied easily. “Besides, Sif wouldn’t be into that.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised what Sif might be into,” Loki replied without thinking, but Thor just laughed.

“I already told you that as far as you and Sif are concerned, I don’t want to know what’s going on,” he said.

“Nothing has been going on,” Loki said truthfully. “We broke up years ago.”

It was true. It still stung, the way she dumped him, all those years ago. True, the prank had been a stupid idea but she didn’t have to get so damn angry about it, Loki thought. It certainly wasn’t necessary to punch him in the face and knee him in the balls, if he could say so himself. But he could live with all that, mostly because he knew he deserved it. It was her words as she left that stung the most: “You are alone, and you always will be.”

He supposed she was right, he thought now. After all, he was alone, hidden away, struggling to crawl out of his brother’s infinite shadow. Over the years, he’d dated many women, but none of them stuck for more than a few weeks. They all started the same, giggling and talking about his good looks; they all left the same, with a door slam (here and there, there was also a slap involved, but those grew rare over the years. Loki figured it meant he was going mellow).

Meanwhile, his brother had his own business and a fiancée that looked at him like he gave her the sun. Loki was still not exactly sure how Thor and Jane even met, with him busy with his gym and her cocooned in the observatory doing research; at any rate, they met somehow. They fell in love ridiculously fast, going from strangers to co-habitation in the span of a week.

More infuriatingly, it worked out for them. Different as they were on the surface, they understood each other very well. They were good for each-other. Loki never admitted to himself that he was jealous, but he was. Everything always came so easily for Thor, while his own love-life was an endless line of disappointments.

“Well, as long as there are no awkward vibes at the bachelor party,” Thor said. “I want it to be fun. After all, I’m only planning on getting married once.”

“Everyone says that,” Loki replied easily, but Thor grew serious.

“I’m not young anymore, brother,” he said quietly, “and it took me forever to get here. Jane is the one for me, and I don’t plan on ever letting her go.”

Loki smiled weakly. Love had really turned his brother into a sap.

“That reminds me,” he said, eager to change the subject. “What do you want for your birthday, old guy?”

Thor smiled.

“I don’t know,” he said, “surprise me, brother. As long as it’s not another poisonous snake, because unfortunately Jane hates those. She wasn’t a fan of the alligator either.”

“Noted,” Loki said, smirking. “No reptiles.”

“Please,” Thor said.

“Very well,” Loki said, sighing. “But only because I want to be on Jane’s good side.”  

“I appreciate it, brother,” Thor said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Loki said, gesturing dismissively. “Don’t mention it.”

Thor just smiled.

Chapter Text

Having a baby has never been less exciting, Sylvie thought to herself as she spent another hour leafing through the sperm bank online catalogue. It wasn’t as if this was real, she thought absentmindedly. All these potential fathers were nothing but a list of attributes and some old baby photos.

When she first came up with the sperm bank idea, she thought it would be simple. As it turns out, it was anything but. First of all, it was expensive; much more expensive, say, than spending a quick night with some guy you picked up at the bar. Now that would cost you the price of a few drinks and the Uber you’ll need to get out of there the next day.

Of course, for the rest of the kid’s life you’ll have to recall the alcohol breath and heavy breathing of the man you used to give him life. And that’s assuming that it even worked! If it didn’t, then you’ll have to go through the whole thing again one month later, calculating your ovulation window and then going out alone and flirting with the most decent looking dude you found hanging around the bar that night.

No, thank you.

One of the perks of having a job was that she had decent insurance now. She wasn’t sure how exactly Mobius could afford it. He was in some kind of union, she suspected, or just secretly loaded or something. Either way, getting a doctor to do the procedure wasn’t a problem.

Getting the sperm, though, was a whole other story. First she had to choose a bank. She went with one that was close by, in the next town in fact. That way she could at least save on shipping, she supposed glumly, as if those forty bucks would really make a difference.

The sperm itself would be expensive, as it turns out. Five hundred dollars a vial, and she really wasn’t swimming in cash at the moment. Or ever. Still, she did have some savings set aside for a rainy day, and she supposed raising a child would be expensive too so she might as well get used to it.

Dr. Willis, her new ob-gyn, had explained the procedure to her: first, they need to figure out when is her ovulation. Then, they need to ship the sperm and thaw it just in time, so it would not miss the 24 hour fertility window expected for a woman her age. As if she needed the added stress.

“You’d typically need to narrow in on a donor about four weeks in advance,” Dr. Willis had said, “so you could be sure that the sperm would get here in time for ovulation.”

Well, with only two weeks left, she was getting desperate.

The problem wasn’t the lack of eligible donors; it was rather that there were too many options. After the first half hour they all began to blend together: brown hair, blond hair, green eyes, blue eyes. Too many of them listed video games in their hobbies. Too few of them played an instrument, or danced. None of them listed snakes as their favorite animal, but she supposed that was too much to expect.

The baby pictures were all cute. All of them had two eyebrows, at least, and they were always smiling in the pictures. Some had hair, some were bald, some were holding toys and some were standing on chubby legs. After a while, she skipped the whole file and just looked at the baby pictures.

Finally, after what must have been days, one caught her eye. The baby in the photo wasn’t smiling, which was unusual. He did, however, have a mischievous look about him, as if he was up to no good and proud of it. Sylvie found herself smiling at him, despite herself. He was maybe one year old, with a shock of jet black hair on his head; narrow, symmetrical lips and huge, ocean green eyes that looked daringly at the camera.

It was the most beautiful baby she’d ever seen in her life.

Intrigued, Sylvie moved on to the donor details. Six feet two, black hair, blue eyes. Went to a fancy college, where his major was business and economics. Speaks four languages, plays the piano, likes poetry and theater plays.

She smirked.

There is no way this guy is real.

Still, she read on. Hobbies: fencing, running, wood carving and knife throwing.

Knife throwing?!

Favorite animal: snakes.

Sylvie stared at the file, open mouthed. Her heart was hammering in her chest. This was it. This was the guy. He had everything. Smart, accomplished, plays music, loves snakes. Not to mention tall, and definitely handsome (as much as she could extrapolate from his baby picture). What were the odds of ever coming across someone like that in real life?

None, that’s what.

None whatsoever.

At least, not in Sylvie’s life. Guys like that, with expensive hobbies and interesting interests, never seemed to frequent the local pub or the record store. If they came to Mobius’s, they must have kept their interest in music and poetry to themselves. At any rate, Sylvie had never come across anyone like that.

But here, before her on the computer screen, lay the perfect candidate to father her child. Well, via medical procedure, of course, but life wasn’t perfect, even if this guy was. It’s not like she could ever be with someone like that in real life. Someone who was a top student in college and probably had a cushy job in the city, with a fancy car and his own penthouse. A guy like that would never even notice a girl like her, who never even went to school; a girl who lived in a rented apartment, drove an old pickup truck and got all of her possessions from thrift stores.

Not that she would ever want to be with someone like that, anyway.

Ew. No. Not for me.

Still, however fancy he was, he clearly had prime genetic material. That was the crux of the point here: she wasn’t planning on building a life with this guy. Just have his baby, which he would never even know about.

Her fingers shaking, Sylvie led her mouse to the ‘purchase’ button.

There was only one vial left.

Lucky, she thought. He must have been popular in the anonymous donor market.

As she filled out the details and purchased the vial, she prayed to whichever deity that was out there that her first try would work. There won’t be any second chances with this one, after all, and she’d hate to have to spend any more time flipping through the endless donor catalogue.

*

“Breath,” Dr. Willis said gently.

“I’m trying,” Sylvie said, annoyed.

Easy for her to say, she thought, as she’s not the one lying here half naked with a torture device stuck between her legs.

“Relax your muscles,” Dr. Willis said. “I’m inserting the catheter now.”

Sylvie took a deep breath, forcing her tense thighs to calm down a little. It wasn’t easy. She hated lying here, being splayed like this with the painful speculum tearing apart her vagina. At least Dr. Willis was nice. She made Sylvie feel comfortable, which was more than welcome under the circumstances.

“This will only take a few minutes,” Dr. Willis said soothingly. “You’re doing great.”

“Do you do this often?” Sylvie asked, just to distract herself from the pain between her legs.

“Often enough,” Dr. Willis said. “I know what I’m doing, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The hint of a smile in her voice was the only indication that she wasn’t upset with the question.

“I know that,” Sylvie said, rolling her eyes playfully. “I’m sorry, just trying to distract myself. This fucking hurts.”

“Just a couple more minutes,” Dr. Willis said. “Do you want me to hold your hand?”

“Save it for the delivery,” Sylvie said, snorting, and this time Dr. Willis actually smiled.

“Will do,” she said. Then, checking the various torture instruments she was playing with on the small trey she had around Sylvie’s mid-section, she added “okay, all done. I’m taking the catheter out now.”

Sylvie sighed in relief.

“You need to lie down for about fifteen minutes now,” Dr. Willis said after she took out the mini iron maiden out of Sylvie’s vagina. “Pull your knees up, like this. I’ll come back when it’s time to get up, okay?”

She gently put a sheet over Sylvie’s exposed body, dimmed the light and left the room. Sylvie stayed lying there, hugging her knees and gently swaying from side to side.

“We’re gonna have so much fun,” she told her yet nonexistent baby. “I’ll take you out hiking, and fishing, and camping. I’ll make you s’mores. I make the best s’mores, just so you know. I’ll show you all the things you can eat in the forest.”

It suddenly occurred to her that the baby might not be that out-doorsy, at least not at first, so she hasted to add “we can go to the library, if that’s what you prefer. I’ll even take you to that squishy baby gym, if you want. I mean, if you’re nice to me. No knives until you’re at least three, though. Four? Three. No, it depends. If you’re responsible, you can cut the salad yourself when you’re three.”

She knew she was babbling. She hoped no one could hear her through the door, even though she was talking quietly. She closed her eyes and tried to reach within herself, to feel the baby that was most definitely not even there yet. Just darkness greeted her behind her closed eyelids. Darkness and silence.

“Just come, baby, please,” she whispered, suddenly about to cry. “Please come. We’ll have the best time, you and me. I’ll be the best mum. I promise.”

After that, she said no more. She just lay there quietly, staring at the exceptionally uninteresting ceiling, until Dr. Willis knocked softly on the door and told her it was time to get up.

“Get dressed and we’ll talk, ok?” The Dr. asked.

Sylvie nodded, and she was left alone again.

*

“So how long till we know?” Sylvie asked once she was finally dressed and sitting in the lit up doctor’s office as if nothing of note happened today.

“About two weeks,” Dr. Willis said. “If it’s positive, it’ll show by then on a regular pregnancy test.”

“That’s so long,” Sylvie said quietly.

Dr. Willis smiled.

“These things take time,” she told Sylvie gently. “But don’t worry, all your tests were really good. You’re in great shape for a woman your age.”

Again with the age, Sylvie thought sulkily.

Dr. Willis chuckled. Sylvie guessed she wasn’t as adept at controlling her facial expressions as she hoped she was.

“I mean, your hormone levels were good and your cycle is regular. You really have nothing to worry about,” Dr. Willis said.

“And if it doesn’t take?” Sylvie asked quietly, fighting the urge to put a hand on her belly to protect the baby that wasn’t even there yet.

Dr. Willis grew serious.

“In that case we’ll try again. That’s a worry for another day.”

Sylvie nodded.

“Okay,” Dr. Willis said. “Let’s schedule another appointment in six weeks. Take a test in two weeks and we’ll continue from there, okay?”

“Okay,” Sylvie said weakly.

“Now go, eat some chocolate,” Dr. Willis said, making Sylvie smile despite herself. “That always makes everything better.”

“Is that your medical advice?” Sylvie asked, amused.

Dr. Willis shook her head, smiling.

“That’s an old Willis family remedy,” she said. “Have a good rest of your day, ok? I’ll see you in six weeks.”

Chapter Text

With only a week left until Thor’s birthday, Loki decided against online shopping. There was too good a chance that whatever he ordered wouldn’t get there in time. He should have looked for a present earlier, but he’d been too busy with the acquisition and it slipped his mind. After some deliberation, he decided that getting a snake for Thor just for spite wouldn’t fly this time, and so he settled on something practical instead.

Not that snakes aren’t practical, but I only just got back on Jane’s good side after that alligator debacle. It’s not my fault she couldn’t appreciate how utterly adorable it was.

It was Tuesday afternoon, and Odin was out of town. Loki took a calculated guess that none of the other suits will notice if he went out early; but, just to be on the safe side, he scheduled lunch with a client on far side of town, so no one will see him wandering out and about when he should be back in the office.

Alright…what would Thor like?

He nearly stopped at a pet store that had a frog display in the window, but made himself keep walking. He had a sneaking suspicion that Jane wouldn’t appreciate amphibians either.

She’s lucky that my brother loves her, Loki thought sulkily.

Actually, he rather liked Jane. Sure, she was ridiculously too short for Thor and quite frankly too smart for him. Still, she was kind, funny, and was a good influence on Thor. After he met her he turned, seemingly overnight, from a playboy to a doting boyfriend. One day he was partying with his friends until three in the morning, and the next he was making scrambled eggs for his girlfriend and talking about settling down.

Loki was so shocked by this sudden change in his brother that he made fun of him relentlessly for weeks. Thor took it valiantly, eventually telling Loki that he can go find his own girlfriend if he was so jealous.

“What?” Loki asked, gaping like a fish. “Wh…jealous? Of…no! I just think love made you soft, brother, that’s all.”

Thor had smiled sheepishly, a strange glint in his eyes.

“It did,” he said, and they left it at that.

Deep in thought, Loki didn’t notice that he’d stopped in his tracks. When he raised his head, the first thing he saw was a shiny jet-ski on display in the store front ahead of him. It had a large poster behind it, of a clear ocean and an island with palm trees.

Tacky.

Next to it, however, was another display that gave Loki pause: it was a faux campsite, complete with a fake bonfire, a tent, a hammock, some shoes and other hiking paraphernalia, and a shiny axe.

Interesting.

The sign above the door said, in big, cheerful letters: “Mobius: Outdoor, adventure, extreme”.

That looks like a place Thor would love, Loki thought. With that in mind, he entered the store. A cheerful ‘ding’ announced his arrival, causing the man behind the counter to lift up his gaze and smile at him.

“Good morning,” he said cheerfully.

“Good morning,” Loki answered in kind. Then, noticing the man’s name tag he asked “Are you Mobius?”

“I am,” the man said. “Why do you look surprised?”

“I didn’t realize it was a name,” Loki admitted.

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” the man said without missing a beat.

“Is that your first name or your last name?” Loki asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

“Both, actually,” Mobius said, “and it’s my middle name too.”

Loki’s eyebrows rose.

“What, like Major Major Major?”

Mobius’s smile grew wide.

“Yes, exactly like that!” he said, delighted. “Except unfortunately, I’m not a major.”

“Well, that would ruin the whole effect I suppose,” Loki mused.

“I agree,” said Mobius. “What can I do for you today?” 

“I’m looking for a gift for my brother,” Loki said.

“Okay,” Mobius said, “what kind of gift?”

“I’m not sure,” Loki admitted. “All I got so far is ‘not a reptile’.”

“What?” Mobius gave him a perplexed smile.

“Sorry,” Loki said. “Something for camping. Maybe a knife or…an axe?” he added, remembering what he saw in the window.

“Yeah, we have those,” Mobius said, smiling. Loki found that he liked him, and for some reason that irritated him a little. No one had the right to be this likable. “Come with me.”

They went over to the axe display, where Mobius asked “do you have anything specific in mind?”

“I don’t know much about axes,” Loki confessed. “What are the differences?”

“Oh, there are a few,” Mobius said, and went on a tirade detailing the pros and cons of each axe. “It really depends what you need it for. If it’s just for wood splitting, the best for that is the Skofnung, for example, but it’s no good for hacking or anything else really. If you’re on a budget, the Angurvadal Hatchet is okay, but it’s not the best if you’re looking for prime performance."

“Budget is not an issue, actually,” Loki said, not missing the gleam in the older man’s eye.

“Well, in that case, my bet is on the Mjolnir Stormbreaker. You can use it for everything: splitting, chopping, hacking. Even wood carving!”

Loki had a split second image in his mind’s eye of Thor trying his hand at wood carving, and he smiled. Mobius, mistaking his amusement for enthusiasm, carried on eagerly.

“It has a versatile head shape, and it comes out of the factory mirror polished – perfectly sharp! The haft is treated Ash, nice and strong. It even comes with a sheath made of premium leather. You really couldn’t find a finer axe anywhere!”

“Okay,” Loki said, trying not to catch the man’s insufferable enthusiasm. “And does it have any downside, this wondrous axe?”

“It’s the best of the best,” Mobius said, “but, obviously, premium quality comes with a premium price tag.”

“That is to be expected,” Loki said. “Sounds excellent. I’ll take it!”

“You won’t regret it,” Mobius promised, moving to take one of the axes off the shelf. “Is there anything else I can interest you in? Premium leather gloves maybe?”

“I think he has those,” Loki said, and then, remembering an important detail, added:  “This axe is resilient, I hope. Thor tends to break things a lot.”

To his surprise, Mobius grew excited.

“Wait, your brother is Thor? Thor Odinson, from the rock climbing gym?” he asked.

“Yes,” Loki said, surprised. “Do you know him?”

“Oh yeah,” Mobius said. “He comes here a lot. Sold him a new chalk bag a while back. I haven’t seen him in a while, though. How is he doing these days?”

“Well, he’s getting married,” Loki said, “in June.”

“So, Thor and Jane are finally tying the knot, huh?” Mobius asked. “To tell you the truth, they were engaged for so long that I thought I’d never see the day.”

“You and me both,” Loki admitted.

“Why do you look worried?” Mobius asked.

“What?” Loki blinked, surprised.

“You’re worried,” Mobius repeated.

“Oh, it’s just…well, I have to organize the bachelor’s party,” Loki explained.

“That shouldn’t be too complicated, right?” Mobius said. “Thor seems like he’d be content with some friends and a lot of beer.”

“He would be,” Loki admitted. “But I would like it to be special. I was thinking of doing something more outdoorsy, actually.”

“Like what?” Mobius asked.

Loki frowned, thinking. “Like…like a camping trip, or…I don’t know, Thor always wanted to do a nature survival workshop, but I’m not sure where I could find something like that.”

Mobius’s eyebrows rose.

“Survival?” he asked. “I think I may have just the girl for you.”

“I beg your pardon?” Loki asked.

“Sylvie!” Mobius called towards the back of the store, and in reply to Loki’s confused look said “trust me, when it comes to survival, this one is the best. Sylvie, where are you?”

“Here!” a sweet voice called, and a woman Loki didn’t notice before appeared behind the display of colorful sleeping bags. “I’m sorry, I was out back.”

Loki eyed her doubtfully. Tall and slender, she didn’t look like someone who can survive the next winter, let alone the wilderness. She was wearing cargo pants, high quality but faded from use, and a pair of heavy looking, battered combat boots. Her hair was made in the most curious way, like the ‘business in the front, party in the back’ mullets of the 1980’s.

As she joined them, she gave Loki a curious look. Her eyes seemed to scan him from top to bottom momentarily. Loki had the strange feeling that he’d been appraised and found somehow lacking, but he kept the thought to himself.

“Sylvie, this is Loki,” Mobius said. “He’s interested in a nature survival workshop.”

The woman’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“I don’t do workshops,” she said bluntly.

Rude, Loki thought to himself.

“Oh, come on,” Mobius said. “You totally could lead a workshop. Nobody knows about nature more than you.”

She gave Loki another careful look.

She’s beautiful.

Loki wasn’t sure when and how he noticed this, but it was true. Even with her hair in that weird hairdo. She had dirty-blond hair, big blue eyes and a nose like a Greek statue’s. Her lips were full and, when she spoke, were slightly lopsided in the most enchanting way. There was something about her that could almost be fragile, if it wasn’t for the steely look in her sharp eyes.

“But, Mobius…”

“Come on,” Mobius said, smiling encouragingly. “You know you could do it.”

Her eyes softened, ever so slightly.

“I’ve never led a group out before,” she said, her voice much quieter now.

“I’m sorry,” Loki said, “I didn’t mean to impose…”

“It’s for Thor’s bachelor party,” Mobius carried on, undeterred.

That made her stop.

“Thor?” she asked, giving Loki an inquisitive look.

“He’s my brother,” Loki explained.

“You don’t look like him.”

“No…” Loki said, taken aback. “I suppose not. He takes after our mother.”

“Is she also built like a mountain?”

“No,” Loki said, chuckling despite himself. This woman was sharp. “But she is blond.”

Sylvie gave a tense little smile that disappeared immediately.

“He’s finally getting married then?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Loki said. “I assume you also thought the day would never come?”

“No, I knew it will,” she said. “They just waited for Jane to get tenure, that’s all.”

Loki blinked in surprise. The woman, Sylvie, shrugged.

“He didn’t mention it,” he said eventually.

Her face made it clear that she was a little sorry for him, but at least she didn’t say anything out loud. At that moment another costumer entered the shop, and Mobius excused himself to go help her. Loki was left alone with Sylvie, locked together in uncomfortable silence.

“So…you know all about nature?” he asked, quite stupidly.

“I know enough,” Sylvie said shortly.

“And do you…do you think leading a…nature expedition…for Thor’s bachelor’s party would be something you’d be interested in?” Loki asked. “Because I suspect he’d really enjoy that. I’ll compensate you accordingly, obviously.”

“Will you then?” she asked coldly.

“Yes, of course,” Loki repeated.

She stayed silent for a while. He could see the wheels in her brain turning. Eventually, she sighed.

“I’ll…think about it,” she said, half-heartedly.

“I mean, you don’t have to if it’s too much…”

“I said I’ll think about it,” she cut him off.

“Okay,” Loki said.

“But you should probably think of a few other options just in case,” she added hastily.

“Okay,” Loki said again. He found it hard to think for some reason. “And, ah…how long can I expect you to think about it?”

“As long as I need to,” she said sternly.

“And, um…do I get your number or…”

“What?” she asked, clearly taken aback.

“Oh, no, wait, sorry, I mean…” Loki tried to say, trailing off in embarrassment.

What is going on?!

“You can come find me here,” Sylvie said curtly. “I’m here every day, Monday through Saturday.”

“Okay,” Loki said, yet again, and then, just for a change, added “good.”

“Good,” Sylvie repeated. “Enjoy your axe.”

“My…oh!” said Loki, who completely forgot what he was doing before. “Thank you, but it’s a gift. For Thor.”

“It’s a really good axe,” she said, clearly trying and failing at casual conversation. “I’m sure Thor would love it.”

“I just hope Jane won’t hate it,” Loki said, and Sylvie actually sniggered.

“Yes, well,” she said. “She’s more of a Swiss army knife kind of girl.”

“Is she?”

Sylvie shook her head, amused.

“I’ll see you around, Thor’s brother,” she said.

“Loki,” he hastened to say.

“Loki,” she repeated, as if trying out the name. Then, she smiled briefly and disappeared back behind the sleeping bags. Loki blinked after her, surprised, before he shook himself from his stupor and went about paying for the axe.

Chapter Text

The two weeks after the insemination passed agonizingly slowly. Sylvie found herself losing concentration, staring into the distance when she was supposed to be doing something, and just generally distracted.

What if it didn’t take? She thought helplessly. The idea of going back to the endless catalogue of faceless attributes felt repulsive to her, now that she already did it once. She assumed that, out of so many possibilities, there were bound to be more options for a donor; but she could almost guarantee that none of them would be a knife-throwing snake lover (the fact that those were strange attributes to consider as deal-breakers did not escape her).

Then, after about ten days of worrying that she wasn’t in fact, pregnant at all, a new idea occurred to her. What if she was pregnant? What had she done? Who did she think she was, bringing a baby into the world all on her own, with no family or support system to think of? What was she thinking?!

What if it’s twins?

If the idea of caring for one baby was daunting, the idea of two was incomprehensible. What if both of them needed her at once? What if, say, the boy had to get to art class but the girl had soccer practice at the same time?

Then, she chided herself, because she knew full well that with her salary she won’t be able to afford neither art class nor soccer practice; not if she wanted her kids to be well fed and have a roof over their heads.

If all else fails, I’ll take them to the wilderness, she thought absently, determined to ignore the little voice in her mind that whispered that babies did not belong in the wilderness. Not if she wanted them to make it to toddlerhood, at least.

But how wonderful it will be, when they are bigger, to take them out to nature, she thought dreamily. To teach them how to light a fire, and how to stand so still that deer will not notice them; how to build shelter out of whatever they could find. Or her. Or him.

“It doesn’t matter what you are,” she told her belly out loud. “Just…please.”

And she didn’t add more, because it was clear what she was asking for.

In all that turmoil, the last thing she needed was some added stress; unfortunately for her, that was exactly when Thor’s brother came in with his axe and suit and stupid survival workshop idea.

Sure, it wasn’t technically his idea, as far as she could tell; and she couldn’t blame Mobius for suggesting it. After all, it was something she often talked about but, like all dreams of that sort, had never thought she’d actually get to do.

The man himself had been…unsettling, for lack of a better word. First of all, he looked extremely out of place in the store, with his perfectly tailored (and probably expensive) pitch black suit. He was all prim and proper, with perfectly manicured hands that didn’t exactly scream ‘axe wielder’. And the look in his eyes when he saw her…surprised, even doubting.

He doesn’t think I could do it, she thought bitterly. Ass.

His eyes were pretty, she had to admit to herself. Aqua-blue, with just a hint of green, and thick eyelashes that were as dark as the hair on his head. His pale skin suggested that he rarely saw the sun, and for a brief moment she wondered if he could be a vampire. He was certainly charming enough to be one.

It’s so strange that he is Thor’s brother.

Sylvie tried to picture the two of them together, side by side, and failed. Thor was…light, for lack of a better word. Funny, fun loving and easy to smile. Loki was quiet, polite and serious. The two brothers were like the sun and the moon, she thought idly. For a second she wanted to agree to the stupid workshop idea just so she could observe the two of them interact in the wild.

I bet they punch each other in the face all the time.

The thought was enough to make her laugh. Sure, the idea of actually making some money while using her unusual skill set was appealing, especially now that she was planning on starting a family, but she was certain that nothing would come out of it.

He’ll probably think of a better idea for a bachelor’s party, she thought to herself. Maybe a strip club. Or Vegas.

Wasn’t that what people did? Go to Vegas? Once again, Sylvie had to face the fact that her understanding of people relied way too much on TV and movies. To distract herself from this disturbing thought, she went out back and started organizing the storage again.

*

On the fourteenth day, she couldn’t sleep. Dr. Willis said that it was best to check first thing in the morning, so Sylvie left a pregnancy test on the counter in her bathroom, so she won’t forget by accident. She didn’t think she could take one more day of suspense. But now, circa three in the morning, she was getting antsy.

Was it enough time since she went to sleep? She thought so. Either way, she couldn’t take the uncertainty anymore. She had to know, if only so she could take a good cry and go to sleep (the tears would come, she assumed, regardless of the result). And so, Sylvie got out of bed, cold and anxious.

“Okay,” she said to the pregnancy test, grabbing the box with more strength than she had to. “Let’s see what you have to tell me.”

There were some more hiccups. For one, although in the movies women always peed straight on the test stick, the test Sylvie got at the dollar store required that she pee in a cup. Sylvie, swearing even more and already about to burst, found herself rummaging through the kitchen cupboards in search of a single use cup. When one was found she did her best attempt at peeing in it without getting her hands dirty (it wasn’t easy). But eventually all the hurdles were crossed and the test was done.

Now all she had to do was wait. And wait.

And wait.

Three whole minutes, which Sylvie spent wandering aimlessly around her bathroom and bedroom. She was close to tears already, and she didn’t even see the results yet. It was just so stressful, this stupid plastic stick with its stupid instructions and stupid plastic cup and…

Okay. Moment of truth.

Sylvie took a deep breath and, after a silent prayer, finally looked at the test.

It was positive.

“Fuck,” Sylvie said out loud, and then clamped her hands to her mouth to suppress a squeal.

Positive!

At the age of 35, against all odds and after only one try, she was pregnant!

“Oh, my god,” she whispered, collapsing helplessly on the (closed) toilet seat.

I’m pregnant.

For some reason, the tears would not come. There was no cry of despair nor of relief, just butterflies in her stomach and the strange feeling that something huge was happening to her, and yet she felt completely unchanged.

She put a hand on her belly, splaying her fingers and trying to feel the tiny life that was growing there. She felt nothing: her belly was as flat as always, of course, the being inside no bigger than a sesame seed, probably.

“Hi,” she said softly anyway, feeling slightly ridiculous. “Hi, baby. It’s me, your mum.”

And then the tears came, washing over her in an irresistible wave.

*

The list of instructions was ridiculous, Sylvie thought, annoyed.  Sure, some forbidden things made sense: no alcohol, no smoking (she didn’t smoke anyway), no drugs (duh); some, like sprouts, didn’t matter much to her anyway because she never bought them; but…no sunny-side-up? No cold cuts? No fish?!

“Moderate amount of caffeine,” she read out loud. “I’ll show you moderate,” she muttered.

The sun was about to shine, so Sylvie got up from the couch to make herself a moderately strong cup of coffee to help her survive this day. Even though everything had changed completely, it was still somehow exactly the same as always (except the new anxiety about what amount of coffee was considered ‘moderate’). With that in mind, Sylvie got dressed and got out for her morning run.

The fresh air did her good. After a few hundred yards she struck a rhythm, and kept running towards the hills just outside of town. The early morning was cool, with white mist sliding down from the peaks of the faraway mountains and into the valley. For a moment she felt like she could go right up through the air and towards them, so light she was.

I need to get baby books, she thought to herself, or at least start reading more online. I mean, I don’t even know what I’m supposed to eat, let alone how on earth I’m supposed to raise a baby.

A baby!

The thought made her stop in her tracks, her hand flying to her belly of its own accord.

She was going to have a baby.

How am I going to do this? She wondered, resuming her run, her head buzzing.

*

“Congrats!” Mobius said when she told him (she knew it was early, but she had to tell someone). He pulled her into a short, fatherly hug. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Thanks,” Sylvie said, suddenly anxious again. “I mean, it’s great, it’s what I wanted.”

“But…?” Mobius asked, sensing that she had more to say.

“But…what if I can’t do it, Mobius?” Sylvie asked. “What if I’m a bad mom?”

“You’ll be a great mom,” Mobius said. “There’s no doubt in my mind. Come on! You once faced down a bear with nothing but a vuvuzela! How hard can it be to raise a baby?”

“That’s different,” Sylvie said, sulking. “I understand bears. I don’t know the first thing about babies.”

“Nobody does, before they have babies,” Mobius said sensibly. “I mean, I sure didn’t, before my boys were born.”

“Your boys are great,” Sylvie grumbled.

“They are,” Mobius agreed, “but when Sean was born I was so lost that I went out to the shed and cried because he was so small and I feared that I wouldn’t be able to protect him.”

“From what?”

“From everything, I don’t know…from life. You know…it got better,” Mobius said gently.

“I mean, he’s still alive,” Sylvie pointed out.

“Oh, yeah,” Mobius chuckled. “You know, Emily always says that our job is to get them alive to eighteen. After that, they’re on their own.”

Sylvie sniggered. “Emily’s all talk,” she said.

Mobius smiled.

“You’ll do great,” he said. “You’ll see. I will have to get more help around here later on, I suspect, because I can’t have you heavy-lifting in your delicate condition.”

“I don’t heavy-lift anyway,” Sylvie said. “That’s what Casey’s for.”

“Well, yes,” Mobius agreed, “he is good for that at least.”

They sank into silence, Sylvie deep in thought.

“Mobius,” she said eventually, almost too quiet to hear, “I may need more money once I have a baby.”

Mobius grew serious.

“Sylvie, you know I’d like to help, but I’m already paying you the maximum I can afford…”

“Yes, I know,” Sylvie cut him off.

“I’m sorry,” Mobius said. “But I’ll help in any other way I can,” he promised.

“Will you be my emergency contact?” Sylvie asked sheepishly.

“Of course I will!” Mobius said, hugging her again. He sounded genuinely touched.

“Thank you.”

“You know, there is something you can do to get extra cash, and I don’t even think will be hard for you,” Mobius said. Sylvie raised an eyebrow.

“Like what?”

“What about that survival workshop?” Mobius asked.

“Not this again,” Sylvie rolled her eyes. Putting some distance between them, she went back to rearranging the display for the day.

“I mean it,” Mobius said, “you’d be great at it. We can market it through here, and I won’t even take commission.”

“Thanks,” she said curtly, not looking at him, “but I wouldn’t know where to even start with that.”

“Well, I thought that guy was interested, that emo businessman, what’s his name,” Mobius said. “You know, Thor’s brother.”

“Loki,” said Sylvie, who could never in her life forget such a name.

“Yes,” Mobius said. “Him. Didn’t he ask you?”

“He never came back,” Sylvie shrugged, turning to tidy up the counter. “I guess he must have changed his mind.”

Chapter Text

“Loki?” asked Odin, who appeared at Loki’s office door. “Do you have a moment?”

“Yes, father,” said Loki, startled. Odin hardly ever ventured out of his office, with the exception of the bi-weekly senior management meeting. “What is it?”

Odin entered the room but didn’t sit down, opting to stand awkwardly instead. “Just wanted to check how you’re doing with the acquisition. The board is breathing down my neck.”

Loki smiled, tense.

“So you came down here to breath down my neck?” he asked, only half joking, but Odin laughed anyway.

“Something like that,” he said. “Just want to make sure you’re on top of things.”

He never trusted me, Loki thought bitterly, but out loud he said “things are going great so far, thank you for asking. The negotiation team is working day and night to bring us the best results. If all goes well, I’ll go down there myself to finish things up as early as next week.”

Odin gave a little smile. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“Good,” he said, “glad to hear it.”

As he often did, Loki wondered what it will take for his father to genuinely warm up to him for once. After all, they were father and son; and yet Odin kept him at a distance, now as much as always. It was always strange to see him interact with other people, how easily the smiles and banter came to him; with Loki, he was hesitant, distant. Almost haunted.

When he failed to leave, Loki added “anything else on your mind?”

“Yes, actually,” Odin said.

Loki’s heart started hammering in his chest, anxiety beginning to rise.

What did I do? I must have messed up somehow. Is he about to fire me? Who has been talking about me? It must be Dan, damn him. I’ll make sure to put salt in his coffee at the first opportunity. The guy down at Starbucks has been flirting with me for ages, he’d probably do it for me if I flutter my eyelashes at him.

Odin, as usual, seemed completely impervious to Loki’s inner turmoil.

“Your mother has been asking about you,” he said. “She wants to know if you’ll come by this weekend.”

Oh, thought Loki, torn between relief and guilt. Between the acquisition and Thor’s various events, he’d completely neglected his mom lately.

“Yes, I’ll come by the house,” he said. “I promise,” he added.

Odin gave him a look that screamed we all know what your promises are worth, but out loud only said “make sure to call her, alright?”

“Yes, father,” Loki said.

With a final nod, Odin left the office.

Loki let out the breath he didn’t notice he was holding, and went back to the task he’d really been working on hard all morning: planning Thor’s bachelor’s party. Sure, it may not have been as crucial for the company, but it was very crucial that Thor will not be disappointed. His birthday present had been a hit, which gave Loki some ideas.

He initially thought about taking the gang axe throwing, but there wasn’t a decent place for that in miles (not to mention, the thought of being around Sif when she’s drunk and wielding an axe was alarming).

His ideas devolved from there: professional wrestling (Sif would hate it); clubbing (only Fendral would love it); an all-you-can-eat buffet (Volstagg will eat them out of business); Race cars (Hogun would love it); Vegas (they would all hate it); a relaxing spa weekend (okay, so that one was more for him).

Finally, he had to throw in the towel. In the last couple of weeks he’d heard only one idea that sounded special enough for Thor’s party, and the one he was likely to love the most: Sylvie’s nature survival workshop.

Sylvie’s nonexistent workshop, he reminded himself, recalling her initial reluctance to even entertain the idea. Thor and his friends would be the last to complain if he set them loose on a mountainside to chase down some rabbits (they really were a pack of slobbering dogs). Jane wouldn’t object either. Sure, it wasn’t necessarily Loki’s thing, but he can always schedule that relaxing spa holiday for himself later.

With all that in mind, he made his way to Mobius’s store on Saturday morning.  When he entered the store, his heart was hammering.

I must be out of shape.

“Hello again!” Mobius said, from his usual perch behind the counter. “Back for more camping equipment?”

“Actually, I’m looking for Sylvie,” Loki said, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Is she here?”

“Yeah,” Mobius said, his head tilted with curiosity. “She went to get something from storage. If you wait a few minutes, she’ll be back.”

“Okay, great,” Loki said, awkwardly shifting weight from foot to foot. He wasn’t sure what to do in the meantime. Also, he’s been feeling strange all week, a sort of rollercoaster-like nausea. Perhaps he was coming down with something.

“Is this about the survival workshop?” Mobius asked.

“Yes, it is,” Loki said.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Mobius said. “I’m sure Thor would love it.”

“He will, I hope. Is she really that good?” Loki asked, intrigued.

“Oh, yeah,” Mobius said, “no one knows more about the wilderness than Sylvie.”

“How come she knows so much about it?”

“Her parents were prepper types,” Mobius said airily. “She practically grew up out there.”

Loki was about to ask him to elaborate when the subject of their conversation came walking in, half hidden behind a tower of shoe boxes. Loki couldn’t help but smile at the sight: the only visible part of her was two weedy legs.

“Oh, look,” he said, “it’s the shoe box monster.”

“Sylvie!” Mobius called, rushing to take the boxes off her hands. “What are you doing?!”

“The shelves need restocking,” Sylvie said, giving him a perplexed look.

“I could have done that. You shouldn’t be carrying!” Mobius chided, putting the boxes in a pile on the counter.

“They’re not heavy,” Sylvie said. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Mobius insisted, fretting for some reason. “Next time have Casey do it.”

“Please,” Sylvie huffed, rolling her eyes. “Casey wouldn’t know where to put them even if I drew him a map.”

Mobius put his hands on his hips, seemingly gearing for a fight. Sylvie raised her eyebrows at him in challenge, her eyes growing icy and irritated.

“Hello,” said Loki, just to stop the bickering.

Remembering himself, Mobius sighed and started arranging the shoe boxes in place.

Sylvie turned at the sound of Loki’s voice, surprised.

“You’re back,” she said.

“I am,” Loki said. “Listen –“

“You’re dressed different,” Sylvie said.

“Er…what?” Loki asked, losing his train of thought.

“Last time you were wearing a suit,” Sylvie explained.

Loki looked down at himself, confused. He was wearing navy blue chinos and his favorite cerulean sweater. There was nothing strange about it, he thought to himself.  True, when he dressed that morning he chose these clothes because they accentuated his eyes, but that was just to make a good impression. This was strictly business.

“I work during the week,” he said, as if it wasn’t obvious.

“Do you?” Sylvie asked. “I thought you escaped from a vampire convention.”

“Hey!” Loki said, not really mad. “For your information, that suit was Armani.”

“Was it?” Sylvie asked. “Wow.”

“It’s a good suit,” Loki insisted.

“I’m sure it is,” Sylvie said innocently.

“I happen to appreciate the finer things in life,” Loki added. “Don’t you?”

“I do, if I find them at Goodwill,” Sylvie said.

Loki blinked, speechless for once.

“How can I help you today?” Sylvie asked, clearly enjoying her triumph.

“Oh, Yeah,” Loki said, trying to pull himself together. “It’s about the survival workshop.”

“What about it?” Sylvie asked.

“Did you consider doing it?” Loki asked and, before she could refuse, added quickly “because I’ve been through about a thousand ideas for Thor’s party and this is by far the best one.”

To his surprise, she softened. The steel left her eyes, leaving behind a kind of endearing vulnerability. His stomach did a strange little flip, and he absently wondered if he ate something bad today.

“I’ve never done it before,” she said quietly.

“Okay, but do you think you could do it?” Loki asked. “In theory?”

“Of course,” she answered immediately. “In theory. I can handle myself just fine out there. It’s other people I’m worried about.”

“Oh, Thor and his friends will do fine,” Loki said, trying to reassure her. “They go out camping all the time.”

“They’re not the ones I’m worried about,” Sylvie said, smirking.

“Excuse me?” Loki asked, putting his hands on his hips. “What are you implying?”

Instead of a reply, Sylvie gave him a once-over, scanning him from top to bottom and punctuating with a pointed look.

“Me?!” Loki asked. “I can survive just fine in nature.”

She sniggered.

“Sure you can.”

“For your information, I was regional track and field champion in high-school,” Loki said.

“Impressive,” Sylvie replied with faux enthusiasm. “I’m sure that would come in handy when you need to outrun a bear.”

“Why would I need to…” Loki started, lost his train of thought and trailed off.

Sylvie:2, Loki:0.

Then, inspiration hit.

“In fact, I’m not sure I want your services anymore,” he said haughtily, “actually, I don’t even trust you can do it.”

“How dare…” she began, scandalized.

“You clearly don’t believe you’re competent enough to make sure everyone survives your survival workshop,” Loki said innocently.

“Of course I’m competent!” Sylvie said, indignant. “It’s just that I’m not usually hindered by normies.”

“Normies?!” Loki asked. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You know,” Sylvie said, gesturing wildly towards his entire body, “people who probably think of going to Whole Foods as a day in nature!”

“Wh-“ Loki was speechless again. For a moment they stood there at a silent standstill, staring at each other’s face. Eventually he said, much more quietly, “Whole Foods? Really?”

She crossed her arms, looking away from him.

“I don’t know, it just came out,” she said.

Loki sighed deeply, lowering his face to the ground.

“Look,” he said, pleading now, “I assure you I can handle myself out there.”

“And you won’t be eaten by a bear?” she asked, half smiling now.

“I’ll outrun it, remember?” he replied, feeling that they were finally approaching common ground.

“I have an idea,” said Mobius, who had long ago finished arranging the shoes and had been listening intently to their conversation. They both turned to him, startled. He was all but chewing on popcorn.

“How about you do a test run?” he asked.

“A test run?” Sylvie asked, her eyebrows raised.

“Yeah,” Mobius said. “Go out there on a weekend, just the two of you. You,” he turned to Sylvie, “will demonstrate your wilderness knowledge and you,” he turned to Loki, “will demonstrate your ability to stay alive.”

They gave him matching, skeptical looks.

“That way you both know what you’re getting into, and if that works you can go into the details of the bachelor party,” Mobius added.

Loki and Sylvie exchanged looks.

“I suppose we could…” Sylvie said weakly.

“Yes, of course,” Loki agreed, wondering why his rollercoaster-sickness suddenly got worse. “Um…how about two weeks from now? I’m out of town next weekend.”

Sylvie turned to look at Mobius.

“I’ll need two days for that,” she said.

“No problem!” Mobius said. “You have some vacation days saved up.”

“You give vacation days?” Loki asked, surprised.

“It helps that she never takes them,” Mobius admitted.

“So…what do you say?” Loki asked Sylvie. “Weekend after the next?”

“Okay,” she said, suddenly serious. “I’ll pick you up here Saturday after next, on 6am. Don’t be late.”

“I won’t,” Loki said. “Should I bring something or…”

“Just what you would normally take for a camping trip,” Sylvie said.

“Sure, okay,” said Loki, who hadn’t gone on a camping trip in fifteen years.

“Great,” Sylvie said. “See you then.”

“Okay,” Loki nodded, offering up his hand.

They shook on it awkwardly. His stomach really doing summersaults now, he mumbled something to excuse himself and left. No sooner was he outside that he began to feel better.

What was that?, he wondered and then, because he wasn’t sure that he would like the answer, shook himself up and went back to his car as quickly as his legs would take him.

Chapter Text

“There we are,” Dr. Willis said, adjusting the ultrasound a bit in an effort to see the little flutter on the screen. Sylvie squirmed uncomfortably. She wished she could concentrate more on the screen, with its amorphous blobs of black and grey; it was kind of hard, with the ultrasound stick being turned to and fro inside her vagina.

This isn’t like they show in the movies.

“Here,” Dr. Willis said, pointing at a point on the screen that was pulsating quick flashes of bright white.

“What am I looking at?” Sylvie asked.

“That’s the fetus,” Dr. Willis said, “and this is the heartbeat.”

“So it has a heart already?” Sylvie asked, trying not to get all choked up and embarrassing.

“Not yet,” Dr. Willis said, smiling. “It’s just the first cardiac activity. The actual heart comes later.”

Sylvie nodded, eyes glued to the rapid pulsing on the screen.

“Would you like to hear?” Dr. Willis asked.

“Yes, please.”

Dr. Willis nodded, pushed some buttons, and a fluttering sound filled the room, fast as the heart of a hummingbird: boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom.

“That’s your baby,” Dr. Willis said.

“My baby,” Sylvie repeated in slight disbelief.

I’m going to have a baby.

A strong need to protect the little thing filled her, along with a terrible feeling that she never really could. Life was hard, full of unexpected turns. What if she fails? Her eyes filled with tears and she blinked a few times, forcing them to recede. If the doctor noticed, she kept it to herself.

“Everything looks great,” she said eventually, thankfully pulling the ultrasound stick out of Sylvie’s body.

I hate that thing.

“I will see you again in one month,” the doctor said. “In the meantime, take it easy, okay?”

Sylvie nodded, wondering if going into the mountains for a weekend with an idiot city-boy and equipment on her back counted as ‘taking it easy’.

She waited until she was back in her truck, door safely closed behind her, to put her hand on her still very flat belly. She closed her eyes, picturing the little thing with its quick, fluttering heartbeat.

“I promise I will do my best,” she told it, feeling kind of silly.

Her belly said nothing. That was probably for the best, she concluded after some contemplation.

*

When Sylvie parked her truck in front of Mobius’s, she found Loki already waiting for her. He was leaning casually against the wall of the store, looking like a men’s model in some fancy outdoor brand catalogue. Everything he was wearing, from his jacket down to his shoes, was clearly brand new. In his hands, he was holding two large cups of coffee.

When he saw her, he gave a dazzling smile.

“There you are,” he said, handing her one of the cups. “I thought you decided not to show up after all.”

She had considered it, but her need to prove herself to him won out. He was such an arrogant little prick, after all, and she couldn’t wait to see how a few hours without city-comforts wipe that cocky smile off his lips.

She took the coffee and thanked him, smiling innocently, and checked her watch.

“It’s only 6:05,” she said. “How long have you been here?”

He shrugged.

“Only a few minutes,” he admitted. “I was afraid that if I wasn’t here when you came by, you’d give up on me.”

“I probably would have, yes,” Sylvie said truthfully, “but seeing as we’re both here now, we might as well get on with it.”

“Yes, I suppose,” Loki said.

“Do you have your things?” Sylvie asked.

“In my car.”

He was driving a Lexus. Obviously, Sylvie thought, amused; but when he opened the trunk, she gasped.

“What is all this?” she asked, incredulous.

“What?” Loki asked, confused. “You said to bring what I would normally take on a camping trip.”

“This is what you take on a camping trip?”

The trunk was full to the brim with things. Some of them made sense, like a sleeping bag and a decent backpack, but the huge gas operated stove, the inflatable mattress and the four people tent were a bit much. Not to mention, the big pile of firewood that filled up half the trunk.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, worried now.

“You’re not taking all of this, it’s insane,” Sylvie said.

“This is what I would normally…”

“We’ll be carrying everything on our backs, Loki,” Sylvie cut him off. “That means we only take what is absolutely necessary with us. You’ll need water, a change of socks, your sleeping bag, mosquito repellent…”

They ended up emptying the contents of his backpack into the trunk, and Sylvie only packed the absolute necessities into it. The only indulgence she let him was one book, but only because it was paperback and he would be carrying it himself anyway. He went along with most of her instructions without complaint, but tried to put up a fight when it came to the tent.

“You are not bringing that thing,” Sylvie said. “It’s way too big and will just weigh you down.”

“But where am I supposed to sleep?!” he asked, indignant.

Sylvie sighed.

“We can share my tent,” she said, after some contemplation. “It’s much lighter. It’s small, but the both of us can squeeze in there if necessary. I’m warning you, though…if you try anything, I always have a knife on me.”

“So do I,” he said cheekily, but when she growled at him put his palms up in the air and promised to behave himself.

Eventually, with the added time of repacking all of his things and then moving them to the truck, they headed out an hour late.

“So,” she asked when they were headed out of town, “I see you bought a bunch of new clothes.”

She tried to hide the amusement in her voice, to no avail. Loki only gave her a half smile.

“As it turns out, none of my old camping clothes survived my parents’ last renovation, and it’s not like I could ask Thor to borrow some of his.”

“Would Thor’s clothes even fit you?” she teased, and he gave her a delightful glare.

“That’s beside the point,” he said.

She kept her eyes on the road.

“When did you buy all this?” she asked.

“I went by the store on Tuesday,” he explained. “You weren’t there.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sylvie said, “I had a doctor’s appointment.”

“Everything alright?” he asked, sounding concerned.

“It was just routine,” she said. As if she would tell him otherwise. She barely knew the guy.

And yet I’m going out into the wilderness with him.

They spent some time in silence, punctuated by some small-talk. At some point, Sylvie instructed him to play some music. He fidgeted with the radio for a while, landing on a country station that thankfully played more of the classics.

“Where are we going?” Loki asked after a while, as their drive took them deeper and deeper into the mountains.

“You’ll see,” she said curtly.

“I feel like I should have left some instructions,” he said, “you know, in case we got stuck out there.”

“We won’t get stuck,” she said shortly. Then, giving him a pointed look, added “as long as you do what I tell you, when I tell you.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, part in surprise and part as a challenge. She fought an unruly smile that was trying to curve her lips.

This guy was infuriating.

She turned into a dirt road, the truck bouncing in a cloud of dust. Loki gave her a slightly alarmed look that she decided to ignore. “Here we are,” she said eventually, pulling into a small parking area at the trailhead.

“Thank god,” he mumbled, rushing to leave the truck. She climbed out after him, jumping on the dirt and taking a deep breath. This early in the season, they were all alone here. The air was cool, crisp and fresh. The trees were covered in new foliage, green so bright that it almost seemed unreal. The twittering of birds sounded in the trees and, a little further away, the singing of the stream.

“Come on,” she said, “we best head out. We still have a few hours to walk before we reach the campsite.”

They unpacked the trunk quickly, Sylvie carrying her small backpack and Loki his slightly bigger one. She explained that they would collect firewood at the campsite, so there was no use carrying some up with them.

“Is that where the survival part comes in?” Loki asked.

“Not quite,” she said, smiling cheekily. “We’re also going to collect our dinner.”

And so they began the trek. The mountains were full of edible plants, if you knew where to look. Under her guidance, they collected Wintercress, Chickweed and Violets for salads; Dandelions and other leaves for tea; wild garlic, nettles, Lamb’s Quarters and Fiddlehead Ferns.

On a slope with a beautiful view of the valley, they stopped and had some lunch: dried fruit and jerky. Sylvie could tell this wasn’t exactly Loki’s cup of tea, but he didn’t complain, which earned him some points. They ate quickly, drank some water and carried on walking.

They collected some early mushrooms Sylvie knew to be safe, and wild ginger. All in all, by the time they reached the campsite, they had a decent collection of edibles with them.

They spent some time setting up camp, pitching the tent and preparing the hearth.

“Now,” Sylvie said, “We need to get on with the fishing or we’d have only greens for dinner.”

“Fishing?” Loki asked. “I figured we’d be hunting.”

“Normally I would,” Sylvie admitted. “We can try for some rabbit or grouse if you’d like, but you said Thor’s wedding is in June.”

“It is,” Loki said, clearly not following. “And?”

“That’s outside of hunting season,” Sylvie explained. “So since we won’t be able to hunt anything at the bachelor’s party, I figured it was best to just show you how to fish.”

He frowned.

“I’ve never went fishing before,” he said. “We didn’t even bring any gear with us.”

She snorted.

“That’s where the ‘survival’ part comes in. Now, I’ve got some old rabbit bones with me. Have you ever heard of a gorge hook?”

As it turns out, he hadn’t, but at least he had a decent knife with him. Sylvie showed him how to split the rabbit bone lengthwise, leaving him with a long, narrow piece.

“Now, you need to carve each end into a point,” she explained. “You do it like so…”

“I know how,” he cut her off, flipping the sharp knife in the air and catching it expertly by the handle. She tried not to gape. Loki smiled cheekily and began carving. A few minutes of watching were enough for Sylvie to begrudgingly admit he was right. He did know how to carve.

Well, life is full of surprises.

After they made several hooks, pointed in the ends and notched in the middle (where the line will be tied) Sylvie showed Loki how to peel tree bark to make the fishing thread.

Again, his proficiency with the knife surprised her. He cut through the layers of wood easily, holding the knife with clearly experienced hands. After peeling a few thin and straight pieces of bark, Sylvie couldn’t help but be impressed.

“So you’re fully a woodcarver then?” she asked.

He smiled.

“I dabble,” he said. “It’s sort of a thing in our family.”

“You can handle your knives?” Sylvie asked, eyebrows raised.

He laughed.

“Something like that.”

After they had enough bark, they separated the layers, using the inner bark to weave a strong, thin rope. Sylvie secured it to the center of the fishing hook on one side and to a large branch in the other.

“Now we just add the bait,” she said, “throw it in the stream and wait.”

“Impressive,” Loki said. “What if we don’t catch anything?”

She smirked at him. Of course they were going to catch something.

“Come on,” she told him, “time to search for firewood.”

They each went to look at different sides of the clearing. Sylvie felt like she needed a break; not because she was tired, but because she wasn’t used to being around anyone else for so long. Also, she was slightly more restless than usual, what with her pregnancy on her mind. True, she didn’t feel anything much yet, except a mild pain in her breasts that for some reason stretched all the way to her armpits.

Still, it could be worse, she thought to herself. I could be throwing up all over the place.

It was too early for morning sickness, luckily. She hoped that by the bachelor’s party, that part will already be behind her.

“How’s this one?” Loki called out from the other end of the clearing, holding a large branch to show her.

“Great if you want to breathe fungus!” she called back and, sighing, went up to help him pick a better one.

Chapter Text

After dinner, Loki sat down by the fire, a piece of wood in hand. He started carving mindlessly, letting his hands take over from his brain.

“The wood would show you what it wants to be,” his mother had once told him, and he found that she was right about that too.

Sylvie added a new log to the fire and came to sit next to him. She handed him a cup of tea she made with some of the plants they picked earlier that day.

“Thank you,” he said, putting the cup beside him to cool down. He carried on carving silently, as she watched with interest, punctuated with an occasional sip of her tea.

“What are you making?” she asked eventually.

“I don’t know yet,” Loki said, removing another thin strip of wood with the sharp edge of his knife. “This piece hasn’t decided yet.”

“Do you do that often?” Sylvie asked, and he stopped working momentarily to smile at her.

“Not as often as I’d like,” he admitted. “When I was little, I used to do this with my mother,” he continued.

“Your mother?” she asked, her interest piqued.

“She’s a sculptor,” he explained. “She mostly does large pieces, though. She made that statue up in Green Lane Park, do you know that one?”

“The mother and baby?” Sylvie asked, surprised.

“That’s the one.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “I love that statue,” she admitted. “I pass by it every morning on my run.”

He smiled.

“So she taught you how to do that?” Sylvie asked, gesturing at the piece of wood in his hand. It was beginning to take shape now: a bear, albeit rough around the edges.

He nodded. “When I was little, she used to make these quick pieces for me. A wolf, or a horse running. She’d do them so quickly, it seemed like magic. I thought I’d never be able to do it, but she said that if I put my mind to it, I could do anything.”

Sylvie’s smile turned sad, her eyes getting a faraway look.

“She sounds lovely,” she said.

“She is,” Loki admitted. “Could do with a little less nagging about how thin I’ve become, but still.”

Sylvie snorted. “Well, you really are gaunt,” she teased.

“Please,” he huffed, mock-offended. “This is all pure muscle.”

Sylvie raised a skeptical eyebrow.

They sat like that for a while more, sipping their tea and staring into the flames. Loki sank into refining his bear, and when he was done he noticed that Sylvie was drifting off.

“Come on,” he said, not knowing where the affection in his voice came from. “You need to go to sleep.”

“Can’t,” she yawned. “We still need to pack up everything…there might be bears in these mountains at night.”

“Isn’t it too early in the season?” Loki asked. “I thought bears still hibernate this time of year.”

“You never know…” she said, yawning again, “with climate change and all…”

“Tell you what,” said Loki, who could see she was practically falling off her feet, “you tell me exactly what to do and I’ll do it, okay?”

“Are you sure?” she asked, clearly worried.

Her eyes looked sunken. She seemed exhausted, her cute nose scrunch notwithstanding. He nodded gravely.

“I’m sure,” he said. “Just tell me.”

Sylvie nodded, giving up. She quickly explained to him exactly how to pack and secure all the food, and when he assured her he understood she went to quickly brush her teeth and then crawled into the tent.

Loki spent some time cleaning the dishes and packing up all of their food in two large bags Sylvie brought for this purpose. Then, he secured everything with a rope, pulling the bags until they were dangling high above the ground. He tied the rope to the trunk, securing it best he could and then stood for a while, admiring his handiwork.

All in all, he concluded, this had been a good day.

He put out the last flames in the hearth, brushed his teeth and changed his clothes outside where she couldn’t see him (at least he hoped she wouldn’t choose just this moment to peek outside. He was standing in the middle of the campsite in his boxers, and it was cold, after all). Then he took one last look at everything and, satisfied, crawled into the small tent, next to Sylvie.

Snug inside his sleeping bag, he did his best not to let any part of him touch any part of her. She’d put her trust in him, after all, and he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable in any way. But it was no use; the tent was too small and Sylvie, maybe drawn to the point of heat, snuggled closer to him in her sleep. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. All it got him was a lungful of her scent: fresh pine needles and flowers, with a hint of smoke from the bonfire. She smelled really good actually.

We’re strangers, he scolded himself. It’s late.

He sighed and closed his eyes, letting her quiet breaths lull him to sleep.

*

“Loki!!!”

Loki sat up in his sleeping bag, startled.

“Wha-“

“Get out here!” Sylvie shouted again, clearly furious. Eyes still half closed and heavy with sleep, Loki crawled out of the tent.

And into a war zone.

Sylvie was standing in the middle of their small campsite, practically shaking with fury. Around her, everything was scattered: all the food they had spent yesterday collecting and preparing, and all the dry supplies she had brought with her from the city, were strewn about, chewed and devoured.

“It’s all ruined,” she told him, accusingly.

“How?” Loki asked, appalled. “What happened?”

“Someone,” she said, her pointed glare leaving no room for doubt as to who that someone was, “didn’t secure our food last night.”

“I did!” Loki said. “I put everything in the bags and hung them on a branch, just like you told me!”

“Well, I guess you didn’t tie the knot properly,” Sylvie said. “It fell in the night.”

“And a bear got it?” Loki asked, rhetorically.

“A bear got it!” Sylvie shouted. “And it took everything. The fish, the greens, the beef jerky…it even got into the coffee!”

“At least it’ll have energy,” Loki said, without thinking.

Sylvie growled.

“I mean, it could be worse,” he said.

“How?” she asked.

“It could have been cocaine,” Loki pointed out, at which point Sylvie turned away from him and let out a mighty scream into the chilly morning air. A few birds flew away, startled by the noise. Loki stood back, not knowing what to do. Luckily for him, Sylvie deflated immediately. She turned back and sat down with a flop on a rock by the fire.

Loki debated with himself, and eventually came over and sat down next to her.

“Better?” he asked gingerly.

She gave him a sideways glance.

“Yes,” she said begrudgingly. “But we’re still out of fucking coffee.”

“Technically we’re out of everything,” Loki pointed out. She rolled her eyes. “However, since you’re an expert on this…” he gestured generally all around them: at the trees, the creek and the mountain, “then I’m sure we’ll be able to figure something out.”

“Well, yes,” Sylvie said. “But we’ll have to leave before noon today if we want to make it back to town at a decent hour, and that gives us no time for anything but some plant gathering.”

“Okay,” he said, not quite following.

“Which means that until the end of this day, we’ll only eat greens,” Sylvie pointed out.

Loki grimaced.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She shook her head, impatient.

“I really wanted coffee,” she sulked.

“Isn’t there some coffee equivalent here in these luscious woods?” Loki asked.

“Dandelion,” Sylvie said. “We can roast the roots to make a coffee substitute.”

“Is it any good?” Loki asked.

“Does it matter?” Sylvie replied. “We’re out of actual coffee.”

“Point taken,” Loki said. “Shall I start the fire?”

“It will take you forever,” Sylvie said. “You’re not proficient with the bow-drill.”

“I have a matchbox in my jacket pocket,” Loki said.

Sylvie snorted.

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay?” Loki asked, surprised.

“Okay,” Sylvie said. “You start the fire, I’ll get some dandelions. But that doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

Loki smiled, a weird fuzzy feeling spreading in his chest.

“Noted,” he said.

After they drank their not-coffee and ate some plants Sylvie gathered around the camp, they packed everything up and set out back towards the car. This time Sylvie took them via a different way; ‘the scenic route’, she called it. Loki wasn’t sure exactly how this one was more scenic than the one they took yesterday, but after a few hours of walking with nothing but leaves to munch on he was starting to suspect that she took the longer path just to punish him.

“How close are we to the car?” he asked when they stopped for their second snack.

“Tired, are you?” she asked, smug.

“No,” he denied, too fast. “Just interested.”

“A couple hours maybe,” she said.

“A couple hours?!” Loki asked, horrified, and Sylvie laughed.

“Relax, princess. It’s a half-hour tops.”

“I knew that,” he said.

“Sure you did.”

He picked up a small pebble and threw it at her. She snorted, picked up her own little stone and did the same. They carried on like this for a few minutes, until Loki raised his palms in defeat and called for a truce.

By the time they got to the car, they were both tired and grumpy. Sylvie drove for the first half of the trip, until Loki noticed she was falling asleep at the wheel and made her pull over so they could switch.

“I don’t let untrustworthy people drive my truck,” she mumbled.

“Well, I prefer my drivers awake,” he pointed out, and she surrendered without too much muttering. As they got back on the road, she quickly fell asleep in the passenger seat. She looked smaller when she was sleeping; Loki noticed it yesterday. He wondered what made her so tired; she was clearly much more accustomed to hiking than he was.

At a small rest stop he got them both cups of real coffee and some decent looking cinnamon rolls. Sylvie, awakened from her slumber by the smell of the coffee, blinked at him in surprise.

“Here you go,” he said, waving the cup under her nose. “Get it while it’s hot.”

“You didn’t have to,” she muttered, taking a small sip and closing her eyes in relief.

Loki shook his head, amused.

“Come on,” he said, “We’ll be home in an hour.”

When they finally reached his car, she helped him unload his belonging into his trunk. She seemed to feel better, now that she had some sugar and caffeine flowing through her veins.

“So,” she said, “how did you find your first survival workshop?”

“I survived,” he quipped.

“Ha, ha,” she rolled her eyes.

“It was fun,” Loki said. “I think Thor would love something like that for his party. Although, I must warn you, he and the gang will probably insist on bringing meat and alcohol with them.”

“I don’t mind, as long as they carry it all themselves,” Sylvie said. “Also, I’m bear-proofing the food next time.”

“Probably smart,” Loki said. “Thank you,” he added.

“You’re welcome,” she smiled, and for the first time, Loki noticed she had dimples. “So you’ll call to schedule the party, or…”

“I will need your number,” he pointed out, carefully.

“Oh,” she said, blushing slightly. “Of course. Let’s exchange numbers.”

They did, and just before they parted ways Loki pulled the small wooden bear out of his jacket pocket.

“Here,” he said, handing her the figurine.

“What’s that for?” she asked, turning the small bear around in her hands.

“Thank you for a lovely time,” Loki said, and made a quick retreat before the confused look even left her eyes.

Chapter Text

April came along, with intermittent warm showers punctuated by longer, warmer days. Sylvie, though still putting up the same indifferent face as always, was beginning to feel her pregnancy in earnest. She wasn’t showing yet, not even a little, although her breasts were definitely getting bigger, earning her some new and not entirely welcome attention of the male sex.

It’s not that she was scared of them, because even though most men were bigger and stronger than her, she did have a knife on her at all times; it’s that they made her uncomfortable. There was a safety that came with being unnoticed, after all. Besides, she wasn’t available for their interest, and maybe that was the crux of the problem: it’s not like starting a relationship was even an option, right now.

No, these days she was focused on one other person entirely: the yet unnamed baby she had growing in her body. It was trippy, to be sure, to think there was a whole other person in there, even if she still couldn’t feel or see their presence.

Regardless of the baby itself, she did feel her pregnancy by now. First of all, there was a whole new level of tiredness involved. It was not just that she lacked her normal amount of energy: it was this bone-deep exhaustion that she simply couldn’t ignore or fight. Every night she’d collapse into bed at the ungodly hour of 5pm. She learned to eat a late lunch/early dinner, just so she wouldn’t be starving come morning.

There was no fighting it, and she didn’t even really try. There was no one else to fight it for, nobody that needed her attention beyond herself, the neighbor’s cat that liked to visit, and the tiny human growing in her belly.

The nausea also hit, not long after her first, not-really-heartbeat detecting ultrasound. That, too, was nothing like they advertised in movies and TV shows. Sylvie was starting to suspect that the people who wrote those shows had absolutely no idea what they were talking about. Either way, she didn’t just wake up one morning and throw up without preamble. In fact, she didn’t throw up in the mornings at all. It was more that she felt unwell all the time, her stomach constantly churning and threatening to overthrow anything she deigned to put in it.

Emily, Mobius’s wife, came by the store one morning, obviously having heard the good news from Mobius. She gave Sylvie encouragement and asked that she come to her with any questions she might have about pregnancy and childbirth. She also brought Sylvie a pack of plain crackers.

“Eat one of these whenever the nausea hits,” she advised Sylvie. “Plain cheese might also help. Just make sure never to be on an empty stomach, okay? That would be the worst.”

The crackers did help, and so did the cheese. Sylvie thanked the god she didn’t believe in for Mobius and Emily.

*

Her first ‘real’ ultrasound, where they were checking for something in the baby’s neck (she wasn’t sure exactly what, just that you didn’t need too much of it), took place one warm April afternoon. This time, to her utter relief, the ultrasound was performed from the outside, like in the movies. The baby was already looking a lot more like an actual baby, too. It had a head, and arms and legs that went kicking a few times during the exam. Sylvie again had to blink a few tears away, but luckily the doctor wasn’t looking.

She did ask whether it was a boy or a girl, but the doctor said it was too early to tell. Sylvie filed the disappointment away for later. It didn’t really matter, after all, as long as it was one or the other, she presumed. It had one of everything there should just be one of, after all, so she assumed one piece of genitalia was to be expected.

After the exam, already nauseous again and vaguely thinking about hunting for lunch, she spotted a familiar figure on the street just outside the medical building. He was dressed in vampire chic again: a completely black suit, to complement his black hair and pale skin. It looked ridiculously good on his tall, lean figure, and she bit the inside of her cheek to banish the thought.

Inappropriate.

At that moment he turned, as if sensing her gaze, his light blue eyes locking with hers.

“Sylvie,” he said, clearly surprised. “What are you doing here?”

She hadn’t seen him in a few weeks. After their disastrous yet somehow successful weekend outing, he paid for her guide services via Venmo, and promised to contact her about the bachelor’s party. However, she hadn’t heard from him since.

“Had an appointment,” she said shortly. He didn’t need to know everything.

“So did I,” Loki said. “Well, meeting with a client.”

“Do you work around here?” she asked, to make small talk if nothing else.

“Not far,” he said.

“Oh.”

They stood for a moment in awkward silence, and Sylvie was wondering how rude he will consider it if she took out a cracker and started nibbling in front of him. She was starting to feel really bad. She best get out of this situation.

“Anyway…” she began to say.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” he cut her off. “I’ve been meaning to. It’s just that there is something massive I’m dealing with at work at the moment and…well, I just didn’t have the time.”

“That’s okay,” Sylvie said. “There’s still some time left until the wedding.”

“I know,” Loki said, “but still. I don’t want you to think I’d forgotten you.”

She smiled, despite herself.

“I am quite unforgettable, that’s true.”

Where did that come from?!

He smiled sheepishly, nonetheless. Sylvie, giving in to her hunger, took out a cracker anyway.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, noticing her hand.

“What?” she asked, cracker stopping midway to her mouth.

“I was just about to get lunch,” Loki explained. “Would you like to join me? My treat,” he added, probably in response to her expression. “Well, the company’s treat really.”

“Well, if it’s the company’s treat…” Sylvie said, smiling. Eating lunch on corporate money was considered ‘sticking it to the man’, wasn’t it? She wasn’t sure. Either way, her hunger won out.

“Sure,” she said eventually. “Why not?”

There was some debate about what to eat, though. Loki suggested sushi, which Sylvie obviously refused. He wasn’t very happy with her suggestion of McDonald’s. Eventually, though, Loki remembered a small Italian restaurant he knew that was nearby.

“It’s really quaint,” he promised. “You’d love it.”

She had to admit he was right. True, the cacophony of scents as they entered momentarily threatened to knock her over; heightened sensitivity to smell was another new pregnancy phenomenon. Still, it seemed lovely. Sylvie couldn’t even remember the last time she visited someplace so nice.

“What would you like?” Loki asked.

She opted for a simple soup, unsure of how her body would respond to anything more sophisticated. Loki, true to his vampire vibe, went for a steak. The smell of the meat was almost enough to knock her over, and not in a good way, but watching him eat it was satisfying enough.

He really is too handsome for his own good.

Another thought she wasn’t sure why she had. That Sunday morning of their camping trip, when she woke up to see him next to her in her tent, she couldn’t help but lie there for a few minutes and just…look at him. He looked vulnerable asleep, his features softened, his red mouth hanging slightly open. His black curls were messy, falling on his forehead, and it was all she could do not to brush them away with her fingers. Once she was completely awake, though, she remembered where she was and that they were strangers, and she scrambled out of the sleeping bag and out of the tent as fast as she could.

It was inappropriate, to say the least, she thought to herself furiously. Not to mention, staring at him while he was sleeping was creepy as fuck. She decided to blame the pregnancy hormones for going weird and crazy on her. Yes, that seemed like a safe bet. Maybe her body was making her crave a man to take care of her, now that she was vulnerable or something.

Yuck.

No, it must have been the hormones. Nothing to see here. Once outside the tent, when she saw the state of the campsite, she forgot all about it anyway.

Until now.

Because even in full daylight, in a crowded restaurant in the middle of the city, Loki Odinson was still beautiful. And she was still very much pregnant with someone else’s child, so this line of thought was not useful, to say the least.

“How have you been?” He asked once their food arrived, handing her the roll of bread she had been eying as means to not be eyeing him (and also because she was hungry).

“Same old,” she said. “Mobius had his monthly meltdown when he wanted to give up the shop and just move to Florida and jet-ski all day, but he got over it.”

“Did he?” Loki asked, grinning.

“Yeah,” Sylvie said, “He even suggested taking Casey, his warehouse guy, out fishing, but Casey can’t tell a Catfish from a Trout so he refused.” She took a bite from the bread, which was delicious. “Sometimes I suspect he wouldn’t even recognize a fish if it jumped out of the water and bit him in the…face.”

Loki laughed.

“He sounds like quite the character,” he said.

“Oh, yeah,” Sylvie said. “I mean, he’s a good kid. Good technical sense. But otherwise he’s as dumb as a brick.”

“Sounds just like Thor,” Loki said in jest.

“Oh, Thor’s not that bad,” Sylvie protested. “I think he’s not half as dumb as he seems sometimes.”

Loki gave her a surprised look, eyebrows raised all the way to his hairline.

“I mean, Jane is with him and she’s really smart,” Sylvie pointed out. “They must have something to talk about, don’t they?”

“I mean, yeah,” Loki said thoughtfully. “Thor isn’t really that dumb…”

They both laughed.

“Change of subject,” Loki said, clearly uncomfortable talking about his brother. “How do you like the food?”

“It’s great,” Sylvie said, after downing a gulp of soup. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he said softly, clearly genuine.

Her heart gave a strange little flutter. She furiously told it to shut up.

“You know,” Loki started, looking sheepish all of a sudden, “I’ve been collecting some of the plants you showed me over our weekend.”

“Have you?” she asked, surprised.

“Yes,” he said. “Well, some of the greens. I don’t really trust myself with the mushrooms.”

“Probably smart,” she said.

“Anyway, they taste lovely,” Loki continued, “and it really adds something to the salad, knowing you collected the food on your own.”

Sylvie couldn’t help but smile at him.

“So anyway,” he said, “thank you. For showing them to me. I really learned something from that, so…”

“It is what you paid for,” Sylvie reminded him gently.

“I know,” he admitted. “It was well worth it.”

His eyes were genuine, and so very beautiful, she found herself staring at them for a moment that seemed to stretch on forever. Her heart felt almost too big for her body, somehow. Her cheeks felt warm, and she hoped against hope that it was because of the crowded restaurant.

“Well, as long as you learned your lesson about bears,” she quipped, just to break the tension.

“Yes,” he said quickly. “Yes, I did. Bears. Always secure your food properly. Yes.”

“Are you alright?” she asked, because it seemed like the heat was getting to him to.

“Yes,” he said. “It’s just…it’s stuffy in here, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she rushed to agree.

So it was the heat, you see? Nothing to see here.

“I better get going,” she added, checking her wrist watch for emphasis. “Mobius is expecting me at the store for the afternoon shift.”

“Of course,” Loki said, standing up when she did.

“Um…thanks for lunch,” Sylvie said, “or thank the company, I guess.”

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“I’ll put it down as ‘lunch with a VIP client,” he joked.

“You wish,” she said, smirking.

“I’ll call about the bachelor’s party, okay?” Loki promised, looking earnest all of a sudden. “Don’t give up on me.”

“I won’t,” she promised.

On the train on her way to the store, she found herself smiling for no reason, until a ‘ping’ on her phone shook her from her stupor. It was pictures from today’s ultrasound, uploaded to the cloud. Sylvie looked at the little blurry, perfect baby profile in shades of brown and black. She traced her fingers on its forehead and its perfect, tiny nose.

Her baby.

She got butterflies in her stomach again; this time, she was almost entirely sure that this was the only reason they were there.

Chapter Text

Loki liked his job for the most part. It helped if he thought of it not as a way to make the company more money, but as a conquest: a war, where his meticulous planning, wit and grit got him the desired prize. Currently, the prize was the acquisition, nearly finalized now. Not a minute too soon, as well; it was high time he had seriously started planning Thor’s party.

He thanked god Thor didn’t need his services for much else. True, there was still the best man speech to write for the wedding, and he needed to get a suit, but those were two things he could do easily. The party required a bit more planning, a bit more finesse.

Also, it required that he contact Sylvie, something which he was more than willing to do. In fact, they had been exchanging texts all week, for some reason. It started when she sent a picture of the warehouse at the store, looking like it’s been hit by a hurricane.

I think Casey forgot his bear safety too, she wrote.

Maybe if you take him on a workshop he’ll learn the error of his ways, he suggested.

Doubt it, she wrote. I know I survived you, but that guy is on another level.

And it went on from there. He sent her fish memes. She sent pictures of her cat sleeping in various tiny containers.

That’s Bruce, she wrote. He’s not so good at volume management.

He sent her a picture of his Hognose, curled in a ball in her little hideout.

That’s Natasha, he replied. She likes to pretend she’s a ball.

Is that your girlfriend? She asked.

No, Loki said, but she is the only woman in my life right now.

That’s a shame, she wrote, don’t they have girl-vampires at your coven?

Covens are for witches, he replied. What about you? Any nature enthusiasts vying for your attention?

Sure, she wrote, and he could hear the dry tone even through the text. They’re climbing all over each-other fighting for my graces.

He then sent a meme featuring all of the ugliest fish in existence, with the caption “there’s plenty of fish in the sea”.

She sent a meme of a vampire, with the caption “I suck at life”.

It made him laugh, he had to give her that. In fact, her texts brightened his days considerably; the strange thing was, he hadn’t even realized they were dark until then. True, he was less focused on his work and his rollercoaster stomach situation was really getting out of hand, but he decided not to give it too much thought, for now.

So maybe he was starting to like her a little. So what? He had it under control. He could stop any time he wanted to.

What are you doing on Sunday? He asked her. I think it’s time we go over the details for Thor’s party.

On Sundays I go hiking, she replied and then, after a few minutes, added you can join me if you like.

Sure, he wrote, sounds great.

Great, she replied. Lamentis State Park, 8 am. Bring water and snacks, and don’t be late.

Same to you, he wrote, and she replied with an angry emoji. It was the yellow one, not the deep orange one, so he concluded that she wasn’t really mad. At least he hoped she wasn’t.

*

“Good morning,” Loki said, meeting up with Sylvie at 8am sharp. He was dressed in his finest hiking gear, which was his normal training clothes. Sylvie, for her part, was wearing the same cargo pants she was always wearing, accompanied by the same heavy boots. Her hair was in twin, low buns today, as if Loki needed another reminder for how attractive she managed to make any hairstyle. “Where are we going today?”

“Up that hill,” she said, pointing at what, in his opinion, was a mountain. “There’s a beautiful lookout out there. Once we get there, we can sit and plan Thor’s party.”

“After you,” he said, and she rolled her eyes at him but didn’t bother hiding the indulgent smile.

The first half of the hike passed quickly, with a light conversation that was interrupted every once in a while by Sylvie darting off to the side of the trail to collect one plant or another. She’d  often share them with Loki, and was delighted when he was able to identify some of them from their earlier foray into the mountains.

“I see you did learn something after all,” she said, her smirk failing to hide her pride.

“Not a lost cause after all, am I?” Loki said, and she huffed. “Wait until I take you foraging through Whole Foods.”

“Can’t wait,” she said, rolling her eyes.

He grinned. “Come on,” he said. “You said there was a lookout you wanted to show me.”

“Yes,” she said. “We better keep walking if we want to make it back in time for lunch.”

As it was already May, the trees were full of green, lush leaves. The wind was dancing between them, making a sound like a waterfall. Loki closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. Different scents mixed in with the air: fresh flowers, rotting leaves, dust from the trail, and Sylvie.

“Enjoying yourself?” she asked, making him open his eyes.

“Yes,” he admitted. “I forgot how much fun hiking was.”

“Do you not leave the city often?” she asked, curious.

“Not so much anymore,” Loki admitted. “I go out to my parent’s house every couple of weeks, though. That’s on your side of town. But I don’t actually get out into nature all that much. I used to, when I was young, but…”

“Life got in the way?” she suggested.

“Yes,” he said. “Life. Work. I don’t know.”

“Before I got my truck, I was going crazy in the city,” Sylvie said. “Well, my side of town, as you so aptly put it.” (she was imitating his accent for that part, which made him laugh). “I felt like if I didn’t get out in the wild, I would myself go wild and start to…I don’t know, run around town biting people, or something.”

Loki laughed harder, mostly because he felt like Sylvie running amuck biting people wasn’t an entirely implausible scenario.

“Anyway…” she said, angling him a warning look, “I managed to find this old beat-up truck eventually. Cost me something like fifty bucks. It was barely running, poor thing. I spent forever fixing it.”

“So you fix cars too?” Loki asked, wondering if someone could get brain damage from being overly impressed.

She gave him a sideways look.

“I cleaned an auto repair shop for a while. The guys there paid me by working on my car,” she explained.

“But I bet you could fix it, if you wanted to,” he suggested.

“Maybe,” she shrugged, “but I didn’t have the tools or that cool car elevator they had over there. I still get a discount every time I need some work done. Good deal, really.”

At last, they arrived at the lookout, and sat down on a piece of dry grass overlooking the view. It was beautiful, with vibrant green trees as far as the eye can see. The sky was blue, with small feather clouds floating here and there. There was some insect buzzing nearby, and the wind ruffling the treetops, but other than that it was completely quiet. The world contained just the two of them, and Loki’s inexplicably loud heartbeat. Sylvie’s eyes were closed, her face turned towards the sun as if she was a sunflower.

“You do this every Sunday?” Loki asked, just to make her look at him.

 “Whenever I can,” she said. “I don’t always go this far, sometimes I just take my usual running route, but I love going out here this time of year.”

“Why here?” he asked.

She grew serious, looking away from him. An air of melancholy seemed to descend on her, taking the light in her eyes away.

“My parents used to take me here,” she said, “when I was little.”

“What happened to them?” he asked, when it became clear she wasn’t going to add any more.

“Cancer,” she said shortly.

“Both of them?” he asked, surprised.

“It happens,” was all she said.

“How old were you?” he asked.

“Young,” Sylvie said. “I was fifteen when my dad died. Seventeen for my mom.” She looked up at him again, carefully this time, gauging his reaction.

“That’s awful,” he said.

She shrugged, looking away again.

“That’s life.”

“Who raised you?” Loki asked. “After your parents, I mean.”

“No one,” she replied, not quite managing nonchalance. “I raised myself.”

“You did?” Loki asked, quietly now. No wonder she carried herself with such confidence, he thought absently. She’d been taking care of herself for decades by now. “How?”

She shrugged again.

“I worked some odd jobs,” she said. “Babysitting, house cleaning, McDonalds…but mostly, I lived off the land.”

“What?” Loki asked, surprised.

“Well, I was homeless a lot of the time,” she explained, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “So I stayed in the woods. It became easier once I was old enough to get a hunting license, for sure, but I managed before that too. Gathering herbs, mushrooms, berries…depending on the season. I had a few books of botany with me, and I was very careful to identify my plants properly, so I got by.”

“Wait,” he said, suddenly understanding. “Are you telling me that all that survival stuff…you taught yourself?”

“Yeah,” she said offhandedly. “Well, I had some basics from my parents. They were both naturalists, and we’d go out trekking all the time. It’s not that I didn’t have any knowledge to help me in the beginning but…yeah, I did learn much of it myself.”

“But that’s…” he started, realized he was at a loss for words, and stopped.

“What?” she asked, on guard again. “Weird?”

“Amazing,” he corrected, turning to look at her with an admiration he could no longer hide. “That’s amazing, Sylvie.”

She blinked, her cheeks instantly turning pink, and sent her hand to rest on his forearm, as if on impulse. As he looked at her face, all sound dropped: the wind, the buzzing, the singing of the birds. All he could hear was his heartbeat. He was staring into her eyes, cerulean blue and full of emotion. He slid his arm down and took her small hand in his. He was searching for a thing to say when, all of a sudden, she seemed to remember herself; she pulled her hand from his grip, looking down at the ground.

“I did what I had to do,” she said, her voice slightly muffled. “I had to survive, Loki.”

“I know,” he said. “Still.”

She nodded, still not looking at him. He understood. He also knew there wasn’t much else he could say.

“So, um…” he began, suppressing a giggle (Don’t be embarrassing, man. Pull yourself together). “Thor’s party?”

“Oh,” Sylvie said, seemingly as surprised as he was. “Yes. Let’s plan that.”

“Okay…” Loki said. “So the wedding is in mid-June…”

They scheduled the party to the weekend before the wedding. Loki, obviously, took it upon himself to inform all of Thor’s friends where to be and what to expect. Sylvie suggested a few locations, and eventually they settled on a place close to where they had their first outing. Sylvie explained that the trail up there was not too hard or too crowded, and that they were bound to find things to forage along the way.

“I know a hidden little lake,” she said, “with a nice, flat pebble beach that’ll be great for the bonfire. There’s also a stream to put the fish traps, and cattails for the fishing lines.”

“So no peeling tree bark this time?” Loki asked, slightly disappointed.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure we can still find some use for your knife,” Sylvie said, amused.

“You should prepare yourself for a second day where everyone’s hungover,” Loki warned. “It is Thor’s last weekend as a free man, after all.”

Sylvie huffed. “I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” she said. “Either way, since we’re going to be a bunch of people, I’ll make sure to carry eggs for breakfast.”

“You mean…chicken eggs?” Loki inquired, surprised.

“Yeah,” Sylvie said, “I have one of those metal egg carriers they sell at the store,” she explained.

“Isn’t it cheating?” Loki asked, suspicious.

“I mean, if you want to be a purist we can always go looking for some finch eggs…” Sylvie suggested. “They usually lay them around June.”

“Finch eggs?” Loki asked, perplexed.

“Well, turkeys’ eggs will have already hatched by now, so that doesn’t leave us with many good options,” Sylvie pointed out, “and if you lot are all hung over, you’re going to want some scrambled eggs.”

“You’re the boss,” Loki said, accepting defeat.

Sylvie scrunched her nose at him, pleased, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

Chapter Text

In the early morning, Sylvie finished up her run and stopped to stretch in her usual spot, in front of the statue of mother and baby in the park. As she stretched, she was aware of the statue all the time; the mother cradling her baby, whose chubby legs were frozen mid-kick. The mother’s hair was tied in a ponytail, blown as if by a sudden gust of wind.

Now that she knew Loki’s mom had made the statue, she was surprised to realize that it was made of bronze. He’d said his mother mostly worked in wood, but maybe she diversified here and there.

Thinking about Loki brought heat to her cheeks, and she furiously hoped the chilly morning wind will cool them down. This was an infuriating new development, brought on by the memory of their conversation in the lookout.

It didn’t mean anything, she told herself sternly. He spent his entire life stuck behind a desk. Of course he would think some plant knowledge is amazing.

But that annoying inner voice she had, the one that sounded suspiciously like her mother, wasn’t convinced.

You shouldn’t have done that, it said. You can’t lead him on like this.

I didn’t do anything wrong, she insisted, arguing with her inner voice as if she was Gollum.

You touched him, the voice said, sounding suspiciously judgmental.

So? she asked, feigning innocence. It’s not like I kissed him.

But you wanted to, the voice pointed out.

Sylvie thought back on that moment in the lookout. His eyes were open and full of admiration, and they were so blue in the morning light. When she touched him, a jolt of electricity shot through her. His skin was smooth and hot under her fingers. She could feel the muscles twitching underneath as he slid his hand down to grab hold of hers. It took her far too long to manage to avert her gaze.

She did want to kiss him, at that moment. She wanted to desperately, but she wasn’t going to do it. Because she was having a baby. Because it wasn’t fair to him. Besides, he didn’t like her like that anyway. He was probably into sophisticated city girls, who wore high heels and had slick hair and a degree in finance. He wasn’t into feral women who never even went to school, especially not one that was about to become a mother in a few short months.

He just gave her a simple compliment. There was no need to get all worked up about it. Why was she even having this internal conversation?

“There’s a difference between wanting and doing,” she said out loud.

“Excuse me?” someone asked.

Sylvie jumped, alarmed. An older woman she hadn’t noticed before was standing nearby, looking at the statue.

“Did I startle you?” she asked, noticing Sylvie’s distress.

“I’m sorry,” Sylvie said, laying a hand on her heart. “I was thinking out loud. I didn’t notice you were there.”

The woman smiled indulgently.

“It happens,” she said.

Sylvie smiled back, uncertain. The woman seemed kind; motherly. She had long, blond curls, flowing from her head in waves of molten honey, and sky blue eyes that seemed to see far too much. At about an inch taller than Sylvie, she gave a noble impression somehow. As if she was royal.

Nonsense, Sylvie thought to herself. Still, she realized the woman seemed familiar, and gingerly asked “have we met?”

“No,” the woman said, “but I have seen you occasionally. I take walks here,” she explained. “I see you now and then on your morning run. There’s a cat that accompanies you sometimes, isn’t there?”

“Oh,” Sylvie said. “Yeah. That’s Bruce, my neighbors’ cat. He acts like a dog sometimes. Um…” she trailed off, suddenly unsure of herself.

“He’s adorable, nonetheless,” the woman said. “I’m Frigga.”

“Sylvie,” she said, offering another smile.

“Nice to meet you, Sylvie,” Frigga said.  “Do you like this statue?” she asked, making conversation.

“Oh, yeah,” Sylvie said. “I love her. I stop by here every morning just to look at her.”

“Really?” the woman asked. She seemed pleased, for some reason. “What about her do you love?”

Sylvie looked back at the statue, frowning. “I guess…she just looks so happy, I suppose. With the baby. Complete. I don’t know,” she admitted, somewhat apologetically.

The woman nodded in agreement.

“I like her too,” she said, as if sharing a secret. “She’s an old friend of mine.”

“The statue?” Sylvie asked, amused.

“Well, in a manner of speaking, anyway. It’s not as if we have riveting conversations,” the woman said, rolling her eyes, and Sylvie laughed.

“I guess not,” she said.

“Well, I better go,” the woman said, “My husband cannot function if I don’t make him his morning coffee. He really is helpless. It was nice meeting you, Sylvie.”

“Same,” Sylvie said, and the woman left. Sylvie finished up her stretching, gave the mother and baby statue one last look, and headed home for coffee and a shower.

*

At this stage of her pregnancy she wasn’t queasy anymore, but she was still tired all the time, which in turn made her cranky and impatient. Casey, who hasn’t been let in on the pregnancy news yet, started giving her a wide berth whenever he recognized the irritated expression on her face. She felt bad for him, because her sour mood wasn’t his fault. The fact that her boobs were killing her wasn’t his fault either, and he did get points for never mentioning how big they’ve gotten.

At fourteen weeks, she still wasn’t showing at all. All that was changed was that her lower belly was getting hard, the small human inside growing every day. Closing the top button of her pants became a bit more challenging, as well, so she assumed some growing was happening, even if slowly. She didn’t mind. She wasn’t ready for the news to get out yet, anyway. Not until she was sure that the baby was okay.

Because of her advanced age, her doctor sent her to get a blood test that would check for abnormalities in the baby’s DNA. Sylvie didn’t even know they did those. When the doctor told her they would also know the baby’s sex, she was flabbergasted.

“From a blood test?!” she asked, incredulous.

“Yes,” Dr. Willis gave her a genuine smile. “The baby’s DNA is flowing through your body. If they find a Y chromosome, they know that it’s a boy. If not, then it’s a girl. Simple, right?”

“Crazy,” Sylvie corrected.

“How did you think they did it?” Dr. Willis asked, amused.

“I don’t know,” Sylvie admitted. “Look between the baby’s legs when it was born?”

Dr. Willis sniggered.

“This isn’t the 1950s, miss Lushton.”

Sylvie made a face.

Dr. Willis softened. “It’s about time you stopped relying on Hollywood for pregnancy education,” she said, not unkindly.

She really was starting to behave above her station, Sylvie supposed, but she liked her doctor so she let it slide. Besides, she was right. Hollywood sucked as an information source. Sylvie started to suspect that the delivery wouldn’t necessarily start with a gush of amniotic fluid followed by a mad scramble to the hospital.

Crazy.

Either way, she was antsy with anticipation for the test results, when she was startled by an incoming message sound on her phone. She hurried to get it out of her pocket, thinking it might be the test results.

It was Loki.

She realized she was smiling, and scowled immediately, annoyed at herself.

Pull yourself together, woman. You’re having a baby.

He sent her a picture of an evening suit, complete with a bow tie and a shirt filled with enough raffles to suffocate a few Chihuahuas.

Charming, she wrote. Is that what you’re wearing for the wedding?

I don’t know, he replied. What do you think?

I think that you’re pulling my leg and that you already had your personal tailor alter your new Armani.

How dare you, he wrote back, angry emoji and all. It’s Dolce and Gabbana.

I think you’d look great in this, she wrote, sending him the pinkest, frilliest dress she could find on Google.

You would look great in this, actually, he wrote. Especially if you pair it with your combat boots.

These boots were made for walking, she answered, not elaborating further, and he sent a laughing emoji in reply.

You’re right, by the way, he wrote after a while. It is Armani.

He sent a picture of himself in a black tuxedo that sat on his figure like a second skin. Everything about it was perfect; the way it complemented his wide shoulders, fit around his narrow waist, accentuated his height.

The man was genetically engineered to wear suits.

Not bad, she wrote, ignoring the rush of heat to her core. She wasn’t going to say it, but she sincerely hoped he wouldn’t overshadow Thor at the guy’s own wedding. Thor would probably wear a fitted suit too, she presumed, and like his brother, he was also ridiculously handsome.

He’ll probably be fine, she thought, even though the small voice in her head whispered that if she was there, she probably wouldn’t have noticed Thor at all.

“What are you smiling at in the middle of the workday?” Mobius asked from behind the counter. He was in a good mood, despite it being a slow day for business. Maybe because of it.

“Nothing,” Sylvie said, pocketing her phone quickly. “A friend sent me a funny meme, that’s all.”

“Are you going to share with the rest of the class?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “It’s really inappropriate.”

Mobius rolled his eyes with good humor. She was 80% sure he knew that she was lying.

*

That evening, she finally got an email from the clinic. It led her to a website for the blood test results and she scrolled through them with shaking fingers.

Negative for Down Syndrome, Trisomy-18 and a bunch of other thing.

Sylvie let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

‘Would you like to know the sex?’ the next line read.

Ha. I knew some people waited for the delivery.

She was not going to be one of those people.

Her heart beating loudly, Sylvie clicked on ‘yes’.

‘Male’, the next line read, and she couldn’t help but smile.

She didn’t care if she was having a boy or a girl. She truly didn’t, but knowing the sex made the whole thing more real somehow. She was having a boy. A little boy. With any luck, he would look even a little bit like the baby picture that she hadn’t looked at since the day of the insemination.

Now, for the first time since, Sylvie opened the donor file and took the picture out. The lovely baby looked at her again, his blue eyes huge in his serious face. He was still beautiful, and Sylvie smiled.

“You’re about to have a baby, baby,” she told the picture, and immediately felt incredibly silly.

He’s not having anything, she thought to herself, putting the picture back and placing the file on a high shelf, to collect dust and be forgotten. His work here is done, anyway. He’ll never even know my baby.

My son, she thought, and had to wipe away some tears that were falling down her cheeks.

She’d already decided not to name the baby before it was born, fearing doing so would jinx it somehow. But, she mused now, there was probably no harm in giving him a temporary name. Just something to call him by until he’s born.

In her pocket, she found the bear figurine Loki had given her. Its surface was already smooth and shiny, because she’s taken to fiddling with it whenever she was nervous. It really was a lovely thing, she thought. Small and beautiful and strong.

“Bear,” she said out loud, and her heart soared. “I’ll call you Bear for now.”

The baby didn’t answer. She didn’t think he will.

Chapter Text

“Why won’t you guys let me know where we’re going?” Thor complained when they all got together at his and Jane’s house that morning.

“If we tell you, it’ll ruin the surprise,” Loki told him. “Now put on your blindfold and get in the car. The clock is ticking.”

Thor’s friends, who everyone called by their last names, were already waiting when Loki got there. There was Fendral, “the pretty one”: he was handsome, witty and generally full of himself; Hogun, “the serious one”; as his nickname indicated, he was the one who took care of business when needed, and was generally the designated driver in every group outing; Volstagg, “the food critic”, so called because of his habit to eat too much when he was stressed, and Sif, “the girl”. There were other nicknames that better suited her, Loki thought, like ‘the warrior’ or ‘the sharp one’, but she was the only girl in the group and thus was now and forever stuck with the part.

When Loki arrived, she was sitting on the hood of Hogun’s car, watching the boys as they had one of their usual arguments. Loki didn’t even bother to listen, they were always about sports or cars or something.

“Why did we have to start so early in the day anyway?” Thor asked, all but pouting. “The sun is barely out, for heavens’ sake.”

“Stop whining,” Jane said, standing on tiptoe to give him a goodbye kiss (he still had to lean over so she could reach his lips). “It will be fun. I promise.”

“You had veto right over Loki’s ideas, right?” Thor asked, obviously stalling for time before he had to cover his eyes.

“It was a good idea,” Jane reassured him. “Now get in the car. I want to get a few hours of sleep in before I go out to my bachelorette party tonight.”

“Who organized that?” Loki asked.

“My maid of honor,” Jane said.

“Who’s she?”

“She was my old college roommate,” Jane explained.

“Ah, Madisynn,” Thor said, smiling. “That means you’ll have a lot to drink.”

“I suspect she’ll do most of the drinking,” Jane said. “Between her and Darcy, I hope there will be some left for me.”

“Boohoo,” Thor said. “At least you know where you’re going.”

“Stop whining!” Jane ordered and practically pushed him into the car with her tiny yet strong hands (he let her). She gave him one last kiss, tied the blindfold around his eyes and then handed his backpack to Hogun, who put it in the trunk. As he got into the driver’s seat, Sif, Fendral and Volstagg sat in the back.

“See you there,” Loki said as they were about to depart.

“Wait, brother, you’re not driving with us?” Thor asked, confused.

“No room in the car,” Loki explained. “I’ll see you there.”

They drove off, leaving him and Jane standing in the driveway.

“So, where’s your ride?” Jane asked.

“Anxious to get rid of me, I see,” Loki said, teasing.

“Why are you and your brother both so dramatic?” she asked accusingly.

“We get it from our dad,” he shrugged. “You should meet Hela sometime. Now that’s a drama queen.”

“Thor invited her to the wedding, you know,” Jane told him.

“And?” Loki asked. “Is she coming?”

“She wrote back that she won’t be able to make it, but she’ll send us a 20%-off coupon for Bed Bath & Beyond.”

Loki sniggered.

“Did she?” he asked. “Send it?”

“No,” Jane said, and they both burst out laughing.

“At least she has style, you have to give her that,” he said eventually.

“No she doesn’t,” Jane protested. “Thor’s right. She is the worst.”

At that moment, Sylvie’s truck appeared down the street, pulling up to a stop next to the house. She hopped down, looking tiny next to the large, green vehicle.

“Good morning!” she called.

“Hi, Sylvie,” Jane said warmly, walking down to the street to give Sylvie a hug. “It’s good to see you. It’s been a while,” she said.

“You haven’t been by the store lately,” Sylvie said.

“Yes, I know,” Jane said. “I’ve been working on a major grant, and busy with the wedding. Didn’t have time to even think of traveling.”

Sylvie nodded.

“Thanks for doing this,” Jane said. “Loki told me you needed some convincing.”

Sylvie looked up at him, giving him a careful look.

“Well, he was quite persistent,” she admitted.

“I’m sure Thor would love it,” Jane said.

“He better, after what this one put me through,” Sylvie said, giving Loki a mock-annoyed look. He rolled his eyes, glaring at her fondly. Jane moved her eyes from one to the other, her eyebrows raised.

“We best get going,” Loki said, mostly to get away from Jane’s questioning eyes. “Thor and his friends already left.”

“Come on then,” Sylvie said, climbing back up into the truck. “See you, Jane.”

“Bring him back in one piece, okay?” Jane asked them both.

“Don’t worry,” Sylvie reassured her. “I got Loki back intact after last time, didn’t I? And he was playing chicken with a bear!”

“Ha, ha,” Loki said, rolling his eyes again. Jane musical laughter accompanied them all the way down the street.

*

When they arrived at the parking spot, Thor and his friends were already waiting. They had all their equipment safely on their backs, and Thor was already sans blindfold. All their bags, except Sif’s, looked suspiciously bulky. Loki knew it was because they were all carrying drinks with them, as well as snacks and treats for tonight’s party.

“Surviving off the land is good and all,” Volstagg had explained, “but it won’t be a party without beer and some chips.”

By the looks of his backpack, he was carrying way more than beer and chips, but Loki wasn’t going to comment on it. He himself was carrying only the essentials, plus a two-people tent he will be sharing with Thor. He didn’t think asking Sylvie to share hers again would be appropriate, after all. The woman deserved her privacy, especially after a full day of herding the pack of puppies that Thor called his friends.

When Sylvie’s truck approached, they all looked up. They all smiled and waved, except Thor, who at the sight of Sylvie raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Sylvie?” he asked, surprised but clearly happy to see her. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ll be your guide today,” she said shyly. “Didn’t Loki tell you?”

“Our guide?” Thor asked, giving Loki a questioning look.

“We’re doing a survival workshop, brother,” Loki told him with a bright grin, spreading his arms wide in triumph. “Happy bachelor’s party.”

Thor smiled too, hugging him and patting him on the back.

“Let’s go, then,” Sif said shortly. She was always curt like that. Loki used to like that about her, back when he liked anything about her. Over the years, she went from openly contemptuous to barely civil towards him, and he supposed it was better this way.

“Come on, through here,” Sylvie said, and led the group through a narrow gate and into the wide, meadowy mountainside. The group walked easily, laughing and constantly teasing one another. Sylvie was in the lead, followed by Loki and Thor. Volstagg, the least interested in gathering edibles, hung about the rear.

Hogun and Fendral were in the middle, arguing about an incident that did or did not happen in college (the thing is, they were too drunk at the time to remember for sure. All they knew was that when they woke up, Hogun was in his underwear, the rest of his clothes never to be found. They weren’t sure what the goat was doing in Volastagg’s car, either).

Sif was a group to herself, trailing just behind Loki and Thor, her sharp, grey eyes missing nothing. To Loki’s unspoken relief, she seemed to hit it off with Sylvie, at least, and soon the two were walking side by side as Sylvie showed them all where to find food.

At this time of year the greens from early spring were gone: now it was all about berries. Blackberries, Mulberries, even wild strawberries. There were also flowers: sweet honeysuckle and Elderflower, sour Wood Sorrel, and Clover. There were some summer greens to be collected, such as Plantain, Wild Mustard and Purslane. As Sylvie showed the plants, Thor and his friends picked them enthusiastically, until Sylvie had to rein them in.

“You need to leave some for the animals,” she reminded them. “Better they have some food in the wild than they come searching for it in our camp.”

“They’ll come anyway,” Loki said, earning a magnificent eye roll. The grin fell off his face when he noticed Sif’s piercing glare.

“What?” he asked, defensive.

“Nothing,” Sif said, giving him a pointed look, and turning back to chat with Thor.

Sylvie frowned. She sent a questioning look after Sif, but didn’t say anything. For a while she was quiet, seemingly deep in thought. An inexplicable sense of dread started creeping up on Loki. He didn’t want Sylvie to witness his tense interactions with Sif; there was no need for her to get in the crossfire.

She was the only one there who didn’t know about their history (mostly because there had been no reason to tell her), and he preferred she would stay innocent to it, for now. There was nothing between him and Sif anymore, hadn’t been for years. She was just Thor’s annoying, stuck up friend. That he used to sleep with. Ten years ago.

“I think it would be best to herd the cats before they’ll eat all the wild berries on the mountain,” Loki suggested, mostly to distract her. They had opened a gap from the group, and were huddling close together for some privacy.

He noticed Sif giving them suspicious looks, but he ignored her, focusing on Sylvie instead.

“Okay,” she told him quietly. She looked around the group, found Sif, frowned again and looked back at Loki. “But what was…”

“Hey, what are you two old ladies gossiping about?” Thor called, making them jump apart.

“Your ugly face,” Loki said. “I was telling Sylvie how I pity Jane that she has to wake up to that every morning.”

“Hey, still better than waking up to yours,” Fendral said.

“You would know, wouldn’t you, Fendral?” Loki asked sweetly, reminding him of the night, in college, the two of them went a little too far. That made Fendral shut up. Unfortunately, it made Sylvie’s frown deepen.

She looked from him, to Sif, to Fendral, then back to him again. Loki struggled not to squirm. Sylvie said nothing, turning away from him abruptly.

“Come on, everyone!” she called to the group at large. “There’s still a way to go until the campsite. I want to get some fishing done in time for dinner!”

Loki stayed where he was, staring at her back as she hurried away in the direction of the group. For the rest of the way, Sylvie walked besides Thor and his friends, not looking back at Loki even once. His heart sank, and he found himself lagging behind.

Thor looked back in his direction a few times, and every time Loki made sure to smile and wave at him, feigning cheerfulness. He didn’t want his sudden gloom to ruin his brother’s day.

“What’s eating you?” Sif asked, startling him. He hadn’t even noticed her walking beside him. To make a point, he took a few steps to the left, enlarging the distance between them.

“I’m just a bit tired,” he lied easily.

“Really?” Sif said. “It’s not that your new girl is upset with you?”

Loki shook his head tiredly.

“She’s not my girl.”

“Could have fooled me,” Sif said.

“Sif, please,” Loki said. “Drop it.”

“Fine,” she said curtly and walked away from him again. By the time they reached camp, she was with the group again, all talking over each other about what they want to eat for dinner. Loki caught Sylvie sneaking a look at him, and smiled. She smiled back, briefly, before turning away again.

Chapter Text

After they reached Sylvie’s promised little lake, they spent some time making the fishing traps. They made gorge hooks with various rates of success. Loki’s was the best, although Hogun gave him a fair fight. Sif and Fendral weren’t that bad. Thor was a disaster, mostly because his grip was too strong and he kept breaking the delicate hooks.

He fared better when building the shelter, though; it was just a small one, intended to demonstrate rather than actually sleeping in. Sylvie showed them how to pile large branches together to make a primitive hut, and then insulate it with leaves and small sticks. The end result wasn’t so bad, Loki thought; about enough to snugly sit two people for protection from the wind and rain.

The only member in the group to not participate in any survival activities was Volstagg, who much preferred the comforts of modern technology. While they were all making fishing lines and playing cavemen, he worked setting up the camp complete with tents, sitting area (a mat), kitchen and a large stone circle for the central bonfire. He placed the beer cans inside the little stream, to make sure they were nice and cool in time for the festivities. He even carried a small barbeque with him, for the fish.

By the time Sylvie showed them all how to light the fire without matches, the shadows were already getting longer and the day was nearing its end. While Loki helped Sylvie clean the fish for grilling, the gang was already sitting by the fire, drinking cold beer and eating chips and berries.

Cleaning the fish was a wet, smelly job and, try as he might, Loki couldn’t hide the disgusted scowl. In return, Sylvie couldn’t help but laugh, splashing him playfully with water from the stream.

“Please stop,” he hissed, doing his best to get all the blood and guts out of the fish without damaging it too much.

“Sorry, princess,” she said, chortling, “your face is just…”

And she was off again.

“Yeah, laugh while you can,” Loki said, but he couldn’t control the smile himself. “My revenge will come.”

“I’m scared,” Sylvie said, sounding anything but, and stuck her tongue out at Loki as he glowered at her.

Eventually, though, the fish were clean. Loki and Sylvie handed them to Volstagg, who Sylvie helped with seasoning while Loki furiously washed the fish smell off of him in the small stream.

The fish, Loki felt, were the best he’d ever had in his life. Perhaps it was because they caught and cleaned them themselves, or perhaps it was because Sylvie was sitting next to him, laughing and talking easily, her body radiating heat in the growing chill of the night.

After dinner, when everyone was fed and already slightly drunk, the party part of the bachelor weekend truly began. They all raised a toast to Thor and Jane, played drinking games and in general made fools of themselves. Sylvie was the only one who refused to drink alcohol.

“I can’t,” she said, “someone needs to stay sober to bear-proof everything after you all pass out.”

“Oh, Sylvie, come on!” Loki said, bemused. “You’ve been working hard all day! It’s a party! You can let go for a little while.”

A strange expression flickered on her face, but it was gone before Loki could figure it out. Instead, she gave him a tense smile.

“Really, Loki, it’s fine,” she said. “Go have fun with your brother.”

“If you insist,” Loki said, giving up. He soon forgot his disappointment, though. Sylvie was fun even sober, and the conversation around the fire was funny, with wilder and wilder stories from their youth making everyone laugh. Loki drank his fair share, not too much in his opinion, only enough to make the world turn wobbly and his heart turn light, making everything better.

“I’d like to thank everyone who organized this wonderful outing!” Thor said, in the magnanimous way he sometimes adopted. “This has been the best bachelor party I could ask for. Thank you, brother!”

“It wasn’t me,” Loki protested, his speech only slightly slurred. “It was all Sylvie.”

“Sylvie!” Thor said. “You are awesome. Really…awesome. You must come to my wedding! I won’t take no for an answer!”

“Um…okay?” Sylvie said, seemingly torn between laughing and being taken aback. Loki fought the urge to put an arm around her shoulder and pull her into him. A little voice in the back of his head whispered that it’s not a good idea, so instead he decided to raise a toast.

“To Sylvie, everybody!” Loki called, raising his beer, and they all drunk in her honor. Sylvie blushed, looking a bit like a deer in the headlights.

She’s so great, Loki thought to himself dreamily. Look at that face. So modest, too. She doesn’t even know whether to accept the praise or threaten us all with a knife.

He smiled at her in admiration, and she gave him an exasperated glare, rolling her eyes. Loki grinned.

“Hey, Loki!” Fendral called. “Your eyes are about to fall out.”

“Yeah,” Hogun said. “Stop staring at Sylvie and go get more beer.”

“Get your own beer,” Loki said, noting how Sylvie’s cheeks turned red. She snuck a careful look in his direction.

“Leave him alone, guys,” Thor said, “we all know Sylvie is too good for him.”

“Not a high bar to pass,” Sif said dryly, “everyone is too good for him.”

“Ouch,” Loki said, throwing a small pebble at her.

Sif stuck her tongue out at him. She had too much to drink too.

But Sylvie said nothing, opting to sit quietly until the group’s attention wandered somewhere else. Loki went into the woods to relieve himself, and by the time he got back she had moved to sit somewhere else.

*

Eventually, everyone went off to sleep. Sif, as expected, was the first to leave, crawling into the tent she would be sharing with Sylvie. Fendral, Hogun and Volstagg, also sharing a tent, were next. Thor, although very drunk, was last. He thanked Loki and Sylvie again for the ‘wonderful party, you’ve outdone yourself you two’, and a few ‘I love you guys!’ before he staggered into the tent he was sharing with Loki and probably collapsed immediately.

Loki, who already sobered up significantly, stayed up with Sylvie, who wordlessly accepted his offer to help tidy up camp. After everything was packed and secured to her complete satisfaction, she looked up at him and said “tea?”

“Yes, thank you,” Loki accepted.

They skipped lighting the fire again, opting instead to use Volstagg’s portable stove. After the tea was ready, they wandered along the beach with their cups, until they came across the small shelter the group had built earlier that day. They wordlessly sat themselves inside it, shoulder to shoulder, drawing heat from each other to warm the chilly night.

“This was fun,” Sylvie said.

“It was,” Loki agreed. “It was a fun day. Thanks for doing this.”

She nodded, a small smile pulling at her lips. “You’re paying me,” she reminded him.

“Money well spent,” he said.

Her hair was blowing in a gust of wind and he wanted to tuck it behind her ear; he wanted to trace his finger along her cheek, her eyebrows, her lips…

She nodded again, took a sip from her tea, looked down at his lips and then away again. It was too dark to be sure, but he thought he caught a hint of blush.

“Sylvie…” he began.

“I used to live up here,” she said, cutting him off.

“Sorry?”

“I lived up here for a while, after my parents died,” Sylvie said. “I was hiding out until I turned eighteen, because I didn’t want to be put into foster care,” she explained. Loki didn’t know what to say, so he stayed silent.

“I built myself a little hut like this,” Sylvie continued. “It wasn’t as good as this one, though. The rain got in, the first few nights. But eventually, I figured it out.”

“You’re amazing,” he said again, because she was.

She gave him a little smile and looked away again.

“So, um…” she began hesitantly, “I couldn’t help but notice…some, uh, weird vibes between you and Sif.”

“Don’t worry about her,” Loki shrugged it off. “She just hates my guts.”

“Why?” Sylvie asked.

“I played a prank on her once,” Loki said. “It ended badly.”

“Did you guys…” Sylvie asked, seemingly upset for some reason.

“Years ago,” Loki said. “When we were both young and foolish. We haven’t even talked in years.”

Sylvie nodded, although a slight frown remained on her face.

“Sylvie…” he began.

“What about Fendral?” she cut him off again.

“That was just one time,” Loki confessed immediately. “Back in college. We got drunk and, well…”

“Yeah,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I figured out as much. So you are into both, are you?”

“Fendral and Sif?” Loki asked, confused. “I’m not into either, actually.”

“Both men and women,” she explained, rather fondly.

“Oh,” he said. “Yes, I am. Does that…bother you?”

“No,” she answered immediately. Then after a moment’s hesitation, added “in fact, I’m the same.”

“I see,” he said, relieved. She was smiling now. He found himself leaning closer, with the desired endpoint being her lips, but she turned away from him again.

Get a grip, Loki. She’s not interested.

Except every sense told him that she was, in fact, interested, just wary for some reason.

“Just how foolish were you, in your youth?” she asked.

He shrugged, suddenly embarrassed. “Foolish enough. I don’t…I’m not…” he took a deep breath.

I need to be honest.

“I was lonely,” he began, “and Thor’s friends were the only people who would even talk to me. I may have craved their attention a little too much, at one point.”

“They’re kind of assholes to you,” Sylvie pointed out.

“Yes, well,” Loki said. “I guess they’ll never stop seeing me as Thor’s annoying little brother.”

“You’re not annoying,” Sylvie said softly. Her face was closer now, the heat radiating off her impossible to ignore.

Beautiful.

He didn’t know which one of them moved first. Maybe they moved together. There was a hesitation, momentary pauses, but eventually they both caved in at the same time, giving in to the pull between them.

Sylvie’s lips locked in with his, causing heat and cold and all kinds of sensations to run through him. It was electrifying. He wanted more. They leaned in even closer, bodies now flush together, as much as the little space could afford them. Loki put his hand on the back of Sylvie’s neck, her soft hair tickling his fingers, her smoky flower scent filling up his lungs.

“Sylvie,” he whispered into her mouth. “You’re beautiful.”

For some reason, that made her pause. She pulled back from him, putting a hand on his chest to keep him from reaching for her lips again.

“You’re drunk,” she said.

“No,” he protested. “I was, but I’m not anymore.”

Still, she didn’t relent. Instead, she scrambled out of the small shelter, standing up abruptly. Loki followed her as quickly as he could.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I shouldn’t have done this.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Loki protested, “I wanted to kiss you, I’ve been…”

“Loki,” she cut him off, quiet but stern. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” he asked, “You’re not married, are you?”

“Sure,” she rolled her eyes, “I’m married in four states.”

He made a half-hearted attempt to pull her back in, but she made him stop with just a shake of her head. Her eyes were full of sadness, but also a warning for him not to try and do anything to make it go away.

This is all wrong, Loki thought desperately.

“Sylvie…” he began, pleading now.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. He could tell it was genuine. “You need some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning,” she said, and retreated back into the camp quickly, leaving him alone on the beach with his thoughts.

Chapter Text

The morning after the bachelor’s party was subdued. Most of the group was hung over, if their grunts and groans were anything to go by. She made them scrambled eggs, which they ate happily, and strong black coffee cooked on the fire. After a late breakfast and a refreshing dip in the pond, they packed up camp and headed down the mountain, tired but happy.

At least, most of them were happy.

Sylvie didn’t feel happy at all. In fact, she felt cold; detached. Loki, too, seemed to be rather miserable, if the beaten puppy looks he was giving her were any indication. At any rate, he didn’t say anything. She supposed after last night, there wasn’t much left to say.

When she and Loki kissed, her heart soared. It felt so right. She didn’t ever want to let him go. For a small moment she gave into the need to feel him, forgetting all of her promises to herself never to do so. She wanted, and so she gave herself, but eventually the treacherous thoughts snuck up on her anyway.

They hardly knew each other. So what if talking to him felt like flying, what if she was thinking about kissing him from the moment she first saw him at Mobius’s store? That was just because he was so handsome. This was because he was smart, and sweet, and really too charming for his own good.

Kissing him felt right, and so when she remembered that she really had no right to do that, at this point in her life, it was like a plunge into a bathtub of ice water. It left her hurt and confused, and him too; but she had to do it. There really wasn’t any other choice.

When the group reached the cars, they split the way they have the day before. Sylvie wasn’t looking forward to a strained ride, alone in the car with Loki, but she wasn’t about to say anything. Loki, it seemed, felt the same way. She stood by as he was saying goodbye to his brother and the others.

“Sylvie, get over here!” Thor called, and she approached them gingerly. She threw a quick glance at Loki, who lowered his eyes.

“Thank you again for a wonderful party,” Thor said.

“It was all Loki’s idea,” Sylvie said modestly.

“Actually, it was Mobius’s idea,” Loki pointed out, and she gave him a tense smile.

Thor looked from one of them to the other, a slight frown on his face.

“Either way,” he said, uncharacteristically serious, “thank you. It was fun.”

“You’re welcome,” Sylvie said, awkward.

“Okay then,” Thor said. “Have a safe trip, guys.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Loki said, and the brothers hugged.

As Thor and his friends drove away, Sylvie and Loki stood back, waving and smiling until they disappeared from sight.

“Well then,” Loki said, once they were gone. “We best get going.”

“Listen, Loki…” she began to say, in a vain attempt to make it better.

“Don’t,” Loki said shortly, not looking at her. “You made yourself perfectly clear last night. I am sorry for overstepping my bounds.”

Who talks like that?

She said nothing. Loki got into the passenger seat without another word. Sylvie followed him into the car, trying to ignore the sadness that was threatening to drown her.

*

She had all but forgotten that Thor invited her to his wedding. That is, she remembered it happened, but assumed it was just something he said while drunk, and he didn’t actually mean it. That is, until Jane appeared at the store that Tuesday and handed her an envelope.

“What’s this?” Sylvie asked, confused. “Loki already paid me for the bachelor’s party.”

Jane smiled.

“That’s your wedding invitation,” she explained. “Thor told me he invited you.”

“I didn’t think he was serious,” Sylvie confessed, accepting the envelope with an almost steady hand.

“The wedding is this weekend,” Jane said, “which I know is short notice, but Thor and I would love for you to come.”

Sylvie just looked at her, at a loss for words.

“Come on,” Jane said. “You can’t say no to the bride, can you?”

“That’s a cheap shot,” Sylvie said, but couldn’t help the smile. She’d always liked Jane, even if she was into Swiss army knives.

“I know,” Jane said, laughing. “Is it working?”

Sylvie rolled her eyes.

“Okay, okay, I’ll come to your wedding,” she said, feigning exasperation.

“Great!” Jane said. “I’ll see you there then. Don’t be late!”

And she left. Sylvie just nodded, opening the envelope. She was reading the invitation when Mobius came over, looking over her shoulder.

“You’re going to a wedding?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Sylvie said. “I guess I am.”

“I see it’s cocktail,” Mobius added. “I hope you don’t intend on wearing cargo pants.”

“Oh,” Sylvie said. “You’re right. No, don’t worry. I have a dress.”

She didn’t, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. Instead, after her shift had ended she headed off to Goodwill. Rummaging through the long aisles of used clothes, some half decent dress was bound to be found.

She wasn’t disappointed. The dress she discovered was simple yet beautiful: the top was form fitting, covered all over with dark green sequins, with a narrow waistline. Beneath that, the skirt was made of layers of shimmering black fabric, covered entirely with tiny gold sparkles. It was full and voluminous enough to cover up her tiny baby bump, but not so full that she would look like some deranged ballerina.

It was perfect.

Sylvie was lucky enough to find a pair of medium heeled, black velvet evening shoes. When she tried the whole ensemble on, she felt like a princess. It was silly, because she was most definitely not a princess, but she guessed the feeling didn’t hurt.

On the days leading up to the wedding, she didn’t think of Loki at all, except for every hour of the day and night. She even dreamed about him, about his lips on hers and their bodies flush together. She woke up a few times, sweaty and confused, her heart hammering in her ears.

On the night of the wedding, she put on her new dress and shoes. She broke out the makeup that she hardly ever used, opting for dark eyeshadow to complement her shimmery dress. She didn’t have a curling iron, so she made her hair the old fashioned way: by tying her locks together with tissue paper overnight. The result wasn’t half bad, actually, and she hoped that all the fancy women at the wedding will not scorn her.

Because, from the little she saw of the Odinsons, she had no doubt that the wedding will be fancy, and she only hoped not to stand out like a sore thumb among the well-endowed people who were bound to be there.

Still, when she arrived at the venue she wasn’t ready. She sat for a moment in her truck, trying to gather up courage to face him. She much preferred facing a bear, really, but that was probably because she had more experience with bears than with men. Either way, she eventually took a deep breath and stepped into the lion’s den.

The ceremony was beautiful. Thor came to life at the sight of Jane walking down the aisle, as if he was lit from within. Dressed in a flowy, lacy white dress, Jane looked like an ethereal fairy more than a normal human bride. She only had eyes for Thor, and they were sparkling.

Sylvie, in contrast, barely noticed Thor or Jane. Her eyes were elsewhere, on the best man in his form-fitting, too-flattering-to-be-real Armani. When she saw him, the background music faded away and her field of vision narrowed, until all she could see was Loki. It hurt to look at him, knowing she would never have him, but she couldn’t not look at him. Because he was beautiful. Because this evening might be the last chance she’d ever get.

He must have sensed her looking, because his head turned and his eyes locked with hers. His jaw dropped, taking her in in her sparkly dress. She was immensely glad she spent so much time arranging her newly grown hair, which was falling in soft waves unto her shoulders. As Thor and Jane exchanged their vows, Loki looked straight into her eyes and tilted his head, as if in question; and she didn’t know what the answer was, and so she looked away.

*

“You came!” Jane said when she entered the reception, rushing to give her a half hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You look great!”

“You look better,” Sylvie said truthfully. After all, no one can overshadow a bride on her wedding day (even if they worked for hours on their makeup and their hair). Thor appeared beside Jane, greeting Sylvie with a handshake.

“Good to see you, Sylvie,” he said.

“Congratulations,” she replied. They both smiled at her, sheepish like awkward schoolchildren.

“I told him it was a bit much,” Jane confessed, “but Thor loves the splendor.”

“My mother wouldn’t have it otherwise,” Thor said, grinning. “It’s not every day her firstborn is getting married.”

“Are you gossiping about me?” said a woman who appeared beside the happy couple.

“No, mother, we would never,” Thor said, but Sylvie was not paying attention to him. Her eyes locked with those of the older woman, his mother it seemed, and they were familiar.

“Oh,” the woman said. “You’re the girl from the park. Although, I might say, I’ve never seen you look this fancy. It suits you.”

Despite her efforts, Sylvie blushed.

“Sylvie, wasn’t it?” Frigga asked.

“Yes,” Sylvie said. “You’re Thor’s mother?”

“Guilty as charged,” Frigga said, “I didn’t know you two know each other.”

“She led my bachelor’s party,” Thor explained, “and it was so much fun that I just had to invite her to the wedding!”

His expression was peculiar, and Sylvie had an inkling he wasn’t telling the whole truth, but she didn’t have time to mull it over when Frigga spoke again.

“You’re the survival guide?” She asked, giving Sylvie an appraising look.

“Sort of,” Sylvie said, and then, eager to turn the conversation away from herself, added “Congratulations,” because it surely was acceptable to congratulate the mother of the groom. Whatever Frigga said in return, Sylvie didn’t hear; her eyes were drawn as if by themselves to the tall figure of Loki, strutting towards them casually with the grace of a panther.

“Hi,” he said, rather tense.

“Hi,” Sylvie replied, because she didn’t know what else to say.

“You, um. You look great,” Loki said, stuck his hands in his pockets, took them out again.

“You too,” Sylvie said. “Love the Armani.”

He grinned. “You can’t miss with Armani.”

She smiled at him, nervous.

“Thor didn’t tell me you were coming,” Loki said.

“He invited me, remember?” she asked.

He frowned. “I must have forgotten.”

She had quite forgotten Frigga, Thor and Jane, who were all watching this interaction and exchanging curious looks. Frigga, especially, seemed to realize something Sylvie really didn’t want her to realize, things being what they were.

She was saved from further scrutiny by an old man, who was obviously Thor and Loki’s father. There was no way to mistake him. He stood tall, proud and regal – rather stuck up, actually – and said “I was looking for all of you. It’s time for pictures.”

He didn’t introduce himself to Sylvie, nor did anyone else introduce him. Instead, the group retreated, all giving Sylvie apologetic looks, and disappeared towards the back of the venue, presumably where a photographer was waiting for them. Sylvie, for lack of a better thing to do, went to find her seat.

Much later, she was chatting with Darcy and Howard, when the dancing started. First Thor and Jane danced, then Jane and her father, and before long more couples joined the floor. Pretty soon, Darcy and Howard joined them, leaving Sylvie on her own. She was considering slipping out unnoticed, when Loki appeared between the tables, walking over to her unhurriedly.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked her quietly. She knew she ought to refuse. She was about to.

“Yes,” her mouth said on its own, and her hand reached out to grab Loki’s without any input from her.

He led her to a quiet corner of the floor. With one of her arms on his shoulder, his on her waist, she hasn’t been this close to him since their kiss. Even in heels, she still had to look up at him; he was so much taller than her.

“How have you been?” he asked quietly, his voice reverberating through her. They had somehow gotten closer, his chest nearly touching hers.

“Okay,” she lied. “You?”

“I’ve…been thinking,” he said.

“About?” she asked quietly.

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

She wanted to lay her head on his shoulder. She wanted to put her ear to his chest and listen to his steady heartbeat. She wanted his strong arms to hold her, and for him to tell her that it was all going to be okay and that he won’t leave her alone with this.

And she couldn’t do any of that.

Against her will, her eyes filled with tears. Her heart contracted painfully in her chest. This was all wrong. She shouldn’t be wanting any of these things. He was a free man, and she was very nearly a mother; those two things were inherently incompatible, no matter how much she wished that they would be.

“Sylvie?” he asked, noticing her tears. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head.

“Can we not talk about it?” she asked, choking up. “Not like this. Not tonight.”

“Later?” he asked, and the trace of hope in his voice broke her heart all over again.

“Yes,” she said. “Later.”

And she laid her head on his shoulder anyway, just for fear that if she doesn’t do it now, she’ll never get another chance.

Chapter Text

After their dance (and the two or three dances after that), Sylvie disappeared. Loki was only distracted for a few minutes, called over by Sif to help calm down an over inebriated Volstagg; but when he was back, Sylvie was nowhere to be found.

“Did Cinderella ditch you?” Sif asked, rather scathingly.

“Drop it, Sif,” Loki said, impatient. He had long ego grew tired of her constant, mean-spirited teasing, and had even less patience for it tonight.

“Maybe she was afraid you will turn into a pumpkin,” Sif said.

He only gave her a look, his brow arched.

Really? He thought to himself. Is this the best you can do?

Sif rolled her eyes at him and skulked away. For the first time, Loki found himself wondering what it would take for her to finally forgive him. It had all been so long ago; her hair had grown almost all the way down to her elbows, there was no need to hold a grudge for so many years.

He supposed it wasn’t really about the hair at all. He also realized that he didn’t really care. Gone were the days when Sif’s words held any power over him. Instead of looking for her in the crowd, he went outside to see if he could find Sylvie.

As it turned out, he didn’t have to go very far. He found her in the parking lot, sitting on the hood of her car, her head resting against the windshield and the legs straight in front of her. There was music playing on her car radio, one of the old Janice Joplin tapes she had there probably. She looked deep in thought.

“There you are,” he said. “I was looking for you.”

“Oh,” she said, sitting up. “I’m sorry. I was going to make my mysterious escape, but as it turns out, my truck won’t start.”

“What?” Loki asked.

“My truck won’t start,” Sylvie said. “Don’t worry, it does that sometimes. I’ll get my old auto-shop guys to pick it up in the morning.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” said Loki, who really wasn’t the least bit interested in Sylvie’s truck right now.

Sylvie looked at her feet, avoiding his gaze.

“Sylvie…” Loki began, and she looked up at him. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears, like they did on the dance floor. She looked small, sad and tired. His heart went out to her.

“Don’t,” she said again, like she did the night they kissed.

Loki paused. Eventually he said “would you like a ride home?”

She was quiet for a moment, considering. Eventually, though, she slid off the car hood and approached him. She was holding her shoes in her hand, making her look tiny next to him.

“Yes, please,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Turn your radio off,” he said gently, and waited patiently as she did so and picked up her small purse from the front seat. They walked to his car in silence, side by side. Every once in a while he snuck a look at the top of her head; her blond locks had grown considerably since he last saw her, the brown roots much more pronounced now.

Still beautiful, he thought absently.

“Won’t your family be mad that you left your brother’s wedding so early?” Sylvie asked.

“It’s not early,” Loki said. “I’ve been together with Thor since 8am. But they don’t even have to know,” he added. “I can drop you off at home and come right back without anyone the wiser.”

“I live 25 minutes away,” Sylvie pointed out, and Loki chuckled.

“Well, then, maybe I’ll have to fib and say I had too much to drink and passed out in the men’s room.”

“I’m sure your mom would love that,” Sylvie said dryly.

“She’s highly used to disappointment by now, I assure you,” Loki said, opening his car door for her, like she deserved. Hell, he would wait on her hand and foot if she only just let him.

“What do you mean?” Sylvie asked, curious. “I thought you were a successful businessman. Why would she be disappointed?”

“Oh, it’s not about success in business, unfortunately,” he said, driving out of the parking lot and unto the road. “It’s more of the personal life she’s worried about.”

“What do you mean?” Sylvie asked, her voice tense for some reason.

“Well, Thor is 36 and I’m 35,” Loki explained. “I guess she assumed she would have grandkids by now.”

“Why aren’t there, if I may ask?” Sylvie asked gingerly.

He gave her a brief look. She seemed nervous, unsure.

Strange.

“I just…never had the chance, I guess,” he confessed. “I was too busy with work, and…the right person never came along, I suppose.”

He said it in a humorous, teasing tone. But Sylvie just answered with a tense “I see.”

They drove in silence for a few minutes. Sylvie was looking outside, wistful, seemingly deep in thought.

“Sylvie…” he started, and she turned to look at him.

“Mm?”

“Would you like to talk? About what happened?”

About the fact we kissed and then you pushed me away?

“Would you?” she asked, hesitantly.

“Yes, I would,” he said truthfully, “if you let me.”

“Okay,” she said quietly. “My apartment is right around the corner. Would you like to come up for a cup of tea?”

“It depends what tea you have,” he joked, and she rolled her eyes.

“I have some herb plants,” she said, as if it was obvious. Truthfully, it was.

He followed her upstairs in silence. She opened the door with some difficulty, having to kick it a few times before it complied.

“It does that,” she said apologetically.

“A sign of character,” he suggested, and she smiled.

God, he loved her smile. She looked so different when she smiled, with dimples near her chin and a sparkle in her eyes. She looked so put together normally, always in control. It occurred to him then that maybe she was just wearing a mask, like he so often was. Maybe, underneath her confident exterior, she was just as unsure as he was.

“I’ll go boil some water,” she said. “You can sit down.”

He joined her in the kitchen, sitting down at the small table. Sylvie took an old fashioned kettle, filled it with water and put it on the stove. In the meantime, Loki looked around the apartment. It was small but cozy, filled to the brim with potted plants, throw pillows and books. There was a small shelf with some family photos, all of her and her parents. He wandered absently if she had no other family.

“Would you like mint or sage?” Sylvie asked.

“Whatever you’re having,” he said.

She busied herself for a few more minutes with picking leaves from various plants and steeping them in a small tea-kettle. She then put two mugs on the table, each of them different. In fact, she didn’t seem to have two of anything, each one of her dishes unique.

Loki fought a smile. Everything about this woman was utterly lovely. He thought absently of his own apartment, with its matching set he bought at Ikea, the books all tidy on their shelves and his one surviving cactus shriveling patiently in its ancient pot. The difference was staggering.

As they were sitting, a feint ‘meow’ came from the balcony. Rolling her eyes, Sylvie went to open the sliding door, letting in the large tomcat Loki knew from her pictures.

“Hi, Bruce,” he greeted the cat. Bruce gave him a withering glare, and turned away as if he wasn’t there. “Charming,” Loki commented dryly.

“He’s just a snob,” Sylvie said, bending down to scratch the cat behind the ears. It gave itself over to her ministration, purring contentedly. “Are you hungry, Brucie?”

“Do you let him roam?” Loki asked.

“Oh, he’s not mine,” Sylvie said, while filling up a bowl of cat food. “He technically belongs to my neighbors.”

Loki looked skeptically of the cat, which approached the food bowl with the demeanor of a landlord. The food bowl had a cat on it, and it had a matching water bowl.

So the cat dishes are matching, at least.

“Are you sure?” Loki asked. “He seems pretty settled in to me.”

“Well, it’s up in the air really,” Sylvie said. “I’m not sure my neighbors know he’s cheating on them.”

“Do they even call him Bruce?” Loki asked.

“No idea,” Sylvie admitted. “But he’s such a Bruce, come on.”

“I suppose,” Loki said, squinting at the cat. ‘Bruce’ probably fit him as well as anything.

Finally, Sylvie couldn’t divert anymore. She sat in front of him, holding her tea mug with both palms. The contrast of the homey atmosphere and their eveningwear finally got to him, and he started laughing.

“What?” Sylvie asked, smiling suspiciously.

He shook his hand.

“We’re just a little fancy, that’s all,” he explained.

“Oh,” she said, looking down at her beautiful dress. God, she was gorgeous in that dress, and yet all Loki wanted to do was to peel it off of her. “I guess we are.”

“So…” he began, because there was really no putting it off anymore.

“So,” Sylvie said, nodding. She was looking into her tea mug.

“About that night,” Loki said. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean to disrespect you, or…”

“Oh, no, it’s nothing like that,” Sylvie said, and put a hand on his, as if to steady him.

A rush of heat ran through him, and he lost his train of thought. Instead, he flipped his palm over to grab her hand in his. She let him hold her hand, squeezing back faintly.

“I have to tell you something,” she said quietly.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s going to sound strange,” she said.

“Okay,” he said, apprehension building in his chest.

Is she seeing someone else?

“This…is not something I planned,” Sylvie began. “You, this…whatever it is. I’m kind of in a strange point in my life.”

“Are you on the run from the law?” he joked, and she gave him an exasperated glare.

“I’m being serious,” she said.

He nodded. She held on to his hand, at least.

“I’m 35,” she said, “like you, and it’s been a really long time since I was in any sort of relationship. In fact, I got so used to the idea that I’ll always be alone, that I…”

“Are you scared?” he asked.

“Yes,” she admitted, “but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Than…what are you talking about?”

She took a deep breath, looked him straight in the eye and said “I’m pregnant.”

He blinked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m pregnant,” she repeated, holding tighter to his hand, which went limp in her grip. “I didn’t plan on…meeting you. I didn’t plan on…liking you. I don’t know how to do this. In fact, I don’t expect anything from you and that’s why…”

“You’re pregnant,” he cut her off.

She nodded.

“Do you have a…”

“No,” she said immediately. “Nothing like that. I used a sperm donor.”

“A…sperm donor?” Loki asked weakly.

“Yes,” Sylvie said. “I wanted a baby, and I didn’t have anyone to do it with, so I just decided to do it myself.”

“Oh,” Loki said, frowning.

Sylvie’s face fell.

“I don’t expect anything from you,” she repeated softly. “I like you a lot, but I also understand this complicates things, and that’s why I…that’s why I stopped you. The night we kissed.”

At the mention of the kiss, Loki’s body filled with heat. The memory of her lips on his, of her warmth and her scent, filled his senses. He’d never felt anything like that before, with anyone. Kissing Sylvie had felt so right.

It didn’t matter that she was having a baby. That was such a foreign prospect, anyway. She wasn’t even showing yet. He was sure, if things came to it, that he could get used to the idea of her having a baby. It wasn’t such a big deal, was it? People go out with single mothers all the time.

“I don’t mind,” he said, mostly truthfully. “You’re still you, pregnant or not. I…” he lowered his eyes to where their hands were still clasped together. Her hand was warm; an anchor point in a world of chaos. “I like you too, Sylvie.”

“You do?” she asked, and the elation in her voice was almost too much for him to handle.

Instead of an answer, he slid from his seat and crouched on the floor next to her. She looked at him with wide eyes, her lips slightly parted in surprise.

“I do,” he whispered, his face close to hers.

And then he kissed her, because that was really the only thing there was to do.

Chapter Text

“I do,” he said, and leaned in to kiss her, gently at first, and then hot and demanding. She gave in without a fight, her body surrendering to the pull she has been trying to battle for weeks.

There was no stopping it, and she didn’t really want to. She’d told him the truth, and now she felt light and free. Electricity shot through her, from the anchor point of his lips unto everywhere their bodies were touching. Before long, he pulled her off the chair; she found herself sitting in his lap on the floor, her thighs bracketing his hips, grinding against his hardening cock.

“Sylvie,” he whispered and leaned down to kiss her neck, leaving a trail of little bites from her earlobe to her shoulder. She shuddered and gasped, giving in to the sensation.

“Bedroom,” she whispered in response, and he nodded and helped her up. He was wearing far too many clothes, she decided, and peeled off his fancy suit jacket, throwing it unceremoniously wherever it might fall.

He only grunted in response, making a move to unzip her dress, sending a shiver down her now exposed back. She pulled on his tie, setting the garment loose while giggling into his mouth. He slid her dress-top down her shoulders, swearing silently when she was revealed in her leopard patterned bra.

With quick precision, she opened the buttons of his silky shirt, revealing mouth-watering abs.

Oh, my god.

“You’re gawking,” he pointed out; his grin was far too self-satisfied, so she wriggled out of her dress just to make him shut up about it. His eyes darkened, gliding hungrily along her body, pausing for a second on her panties, which matched the bra.

She gave him a triumphant look, one eyebrow raised cockily. His eyes finished traveling over her entire body, from face to breasts to legs, and with a confident arm around her waist he pulled her flush against him again. They both moaned as their chests touched, the heat from his body radiating throughout her own until it focused in her core.

Not wanting to be defeated, she then reached for his belt, unbuckling it and pulling forcefully until it came loose. He growled and bit her lip as his clever hands easily worked the clasp of her bra, leaving the garment to the mercy of gravity and releasing an aroused gasp out of her.

“Like that, do you?” he asked, trailing one finger down the side of her breast, laying hot kisses on her mouth and chin, neck, shoulder, until he came across a nipple and attacked it hungrily, flicking the hard nub with his tongue. Sylvie moaned out loud.

Still playing their little game, her hands managed to remain steady enough to unbutton his pants, which he stepped out of casually, all the while making her walk backwards in the direction of her bedroom. When they finally arrived at their destination they fell on the bed. He was on top of her, still working on her nipple with the air of a man on a mission.

The orgasm was building now, impossibly quickly. Sylvie wasn’t sure if it was because it’s been so long since she’s been with anyone or because it was him that was doing these things to her; but all conscious thought was soon gone as he took her other nipple between clever, clever fingers; and with a loud moan that she could no longer suppress, Sylvie reached the peak.

She came down in lazy waves, already slick and ready, sensation slowly returning to her fingers and her toes. But Loki was not yet satisfied. With a devilish grin, he crouched between her legs, removing her underwear and throwing them carelessly behind his back.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, the momentary softness in his eyes quickly replaced by mounting lust. She raised her eyebrows at him, challenging, and he gave an amused little laugh and dove in, caressing her hot, wet cunt with the flat of his tongue, up and over her clit.

She moaned again, probably louder than was necessary, but she just couldn’t help herself. Encouraged, he did it again and again, taking his time, building her orgasm slowly, bursts of hot pleasure divided by moments of long agony, until eventually she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Please,” she whispered, not even ashamed of herself, her whole being invested in her desired target. “Please, Loki…”

He smiled, she could feel it on her cunt, but did nothing to hurry up the torturous pace.

“Please,” she gasped, “I want to…come…”

“Do you now?” he hummed into her cunt, sending warm vibrations through her that made her all but scream. She was nearly crying now, anxious and frustrated, wholly invested in the climax he was withholding.

“Yes,” she whispered, “please.”

And in an act of benevolent mercy, the next time his tongue reached her clit it stayed there, moving it quickly with his tongue; and Sylvie came all at once, climbing and flying and screaming with abandon. Afterwards, she smiled at him lazily.

“Don’t spoil me too much,” she warned him, “or there will be nothing left for the main event.”

“You deserve spoiling,” he said, hoarse, and climbed on top of her again. He removed his boxers, finally, and placed his hard cock between her legs; but instead of penetrating he slid it along her swollen lips, gliding in her slick until the head of his cock nudged her clit.  Fireworks exploded in her brain, and she wailed.

 “Again,” she said, as she had lost the ability to form coherent sentences, and Loki complied. This time, he didn’t torture her, but instead struck a steady rhythm against het clit until she came again; and only then aligned himself, and she was so wet he slid his full length inside in one fluid motion.

They both gasped in unison, their full attention on the point of their connection; and Sylvie, who was already blissed to the point of insanity, just closed her eyes and felt as he struck a rhythm again. He gave her one final climax before coming inside her, shaking and kissing her through it, as she held onto his back for dear life.

After it was over their kisses grew soft and affectionate. Sylvie’s body was buzzing pleasantly, content. Her hand moved on his back in lazy circles. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, taking a deep breath.

“You’re amazing,” he said quietly, just like he did in the lookout.

“You did all the work,” she pointed out, smiling.

“Well,” he said, raising his head to meet her eyes with amusement, “I’m sure you’ll make it up to me in the near future.”

The future, Sylvie thought in wonder. Earlier this evening, she was sure she would never see him again; now he was in her bed, their bodies still joined together after the best sex she’d ever had.

Talk about a twist.

Eventually he pulled out with a sigh. She went to the bathroom to clean herself, and when she returned she found Loki sitting on the bed in his boxers. He gave her a lazy smile.

“So, are you still planning to go back to the wedding?” she asked, only half joking.

He looked taken aback. “Um…I wasn’t planning on it,” he admitted. “Do you…want me to leave?”

“No,” she said immediately. “That is…you can stay tonight. If you like.”

He nodded, giving her a shy smile. The contrast between this lost man and the wizard who gave her a thousand orgasms not ten minutes ago made her want to laugh for some reason. Instead, she bended down to look for her own underwear, eventually giving up and just taking a new pair from the drawer.

When they finally settled down to sleep (While Sylvie put on an old t-shirt, Loki remained in his boxers, as she had nothing fit for him to wear; luckily, it was a warm summer night, and he joked that the cold never bothered him anyway), he folded his body around hers, pulling her back flush against his chest. He nuzzled her neck sleepily.

“Good night,” he whispered.

“Good night,” she said in return.

She must have fallen asleep immediately; she couldn’t remember the last time she felt so relaxed.

*

She woke up early to an unfamiliar ringtone. She groaned, burying her face in the pillow, as someone beside her stirred and climbed out of bed, stumbling towards the source of the sound. She opened her eyes just in time to see a truly magnificent boxer-clad backside disappearing out her bedroom door.

Loki.

Memories of last night came rushing in, making her face turn hot, and she buried them in the pillow again so as not to squeal or embarrass herself otherwise.

In the meantime, Loki must have found his phone somewhere in the pile of discarded clothes leading from the kitchen to the bedroom, and answered with a muffled “hello? Yes. Good morning, mother. Um…yes, I’m sorry. I came across some unexpected developments.”

Sylvie sniggered.

“No, I’m okay. Is, um, is Thor alright? Oh. Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like Thor. Okay. Yes, I’ll drop by later. Okay. Alright. Bye.”

He came back into the bedroom and smiled when he saw she was awake.

“Good morning,” he said, crossing the room to lay a kiss on her lips.

“Mm,” she said in way of greeting, marveling in the heat radiating off him.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and evidently looking for his pants.

“Yes,” she said truthfully. “You?”

He smiled again, sheepishly. “Quite,” he said.

He went about pulling on his pants and, maybe, looking for the rest of his clothes. She hoped he won’t find them so soon. His torso was indeed a work of art, she would hate to see it covered up so fast.

“Is there anywhere in the neighborhood where I can get you something for breakfast?” he asked while fishing his belt from the corner of the room.

“There’s a bakery at the end of the block,” Sylvie said. “Wanda’s Magical Delights. They have good croissants.”

“Great,” Loki said. “I’ll go get us something to eat, then.”

“Okay,” Sylvie said. “I’ll get dressed in the meantime.”

“I kind of like what you’re wearing now,” Loki said, letting his eyes glide over her body. “Very sexy.”

“You’re into giant t-shirts, then?” Sylvie asked, amused.

“It depends who is in them,” he said. “Ok. I’ll just brush my teeth and head downstairs. I’ll be back soon, okay?”

Sylvie nodded. After he left, no doubt doing the walk of shame in his form-fitting evening wear, she got up and went to get ready. In the bathroom mirror, she smiled at herself. Her face was glowing, her cheeks a healthy pink color. Her lips, thoroughly kissed, were red and swollen, and her hair…well, apparently some things could defy gravity after all.

By the time she got out of the shower, got dressed and emerged into the kitchen, Loki was already back. They had breakfast, and then he asked “do you have anything planned for today?”

“Not really,” she said, “the store is closed on Sundays and I was expecting to wake up late after the wedding. I usually go for a run but I can skip it today.”

“Good,” he said. “I have to go visit my parents in the afternoon, but I was thinking we could spend the morning together? If that’s okay with you.”

So bashful. As if he didn’t fuck my brains out last night.

“Sure,” she said, utterly failing at nonchalance. “I’d love to, yes.”

They ended up going to the park anyway, Sylvie in cargo pants and a t-shirt and Loki in his wrinkled Armani. His chin length hair was loose and curly this morning, and Sylvie fought the urge to comb her fingers through it. Impossibly, and in contrast to his vampiric air, he looked even better in the daylight than he did at night, and again Sylvie marveled at how things turned out.

As she did every day, she stopped at the mother and baby statue. For a long moment, they just stood quietly and looked at it, until a memory stirred within Sylvie.

“I met your mother here,” she told Loki, who raised an eyebrow in surprise. “She told me the statue is an old friend of hers.”

“I suppose it is,” Loki said, “she made it. Remember?”

Sylvie smacked her forehead.

“That explains it,” she said. Loki didn’t reply. He was looking at the statue thoughtfully, from the mother to the baby, and then back to Sylvie. She bit her lip, waiting.

“So…” he said, “a baby.”

She spread her arms wide and shrugged.

“It’s…a bit much,” he admitted, and her heart fell.

“You seemed fine with it last night,” she said coolly.

“I am,” Loki said, “I meant what I said, I just…I don’t want to disappoint you, that’s all.”

“Loki,” she said softly, feeling guilty all of a sudden. “I don’t expect anything from you. We hardly know each other.”

He nodded.

“Why don’t we just…take it one day at a time,” she suggested. He took her hand in his and drew it to his lips, giving it a little kiss.

“Okay,” he said, and pulled her flush against his side. “One day at a time.”

Chapter Text

The next few weeks passed in a blur of activity. At work, Loki had success closing off the acquisition, earning himself a hefty bonus and, more importantly, praise from his father.

Well, sort of. He guessed a tepid “well done” and a pat on the shoulder was as much of a praise he was going to get from Odin. As always, celebrating his success fell to Thor, who took his broody brother out for drinks. With enough alcohol in his blood Loki lost his usual gloom, and instead began gushing about his favorite new subject; that is, Sylvie.

“Here we go again,” Thor said, rolling his eyes good-humoredly and signaling the barmen to pour them two more drinks. “You really did fall hard, didn’t you, brother?” He took a swig from his beer, winced and said “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“But you don’t understand, Thor,” Loki said, only slightly slurring his words, “she’s amazing. Amazing.”

“So I heard,” Thor said, laughing. “What did she do now? Chase a bear off with a plastic bottle?”

“It was a mountain lion,” Loki said haughtily, “and the bottle was metal.”

“Of course it was,” Thor said, grinning. “Wouldn’t expect any less of her.”

“But,” Loki said, growing serious again. As was becoming habit these days, a pit of dread opened at the bottom of his belly, “what if I’m not good enough?”

Thor blew a raspberry.

“Of course you’re not,” he said, teasing, “but it’s fine as long as she doesn’t realize that.”

“You don’t understand,” Loki said with renewed urgency. “She’s going to have a baby.”

“I know,” Thor said, growing serious too. He was the only one in the family Loki told so far, although he suspected Frigga knew there was something amiss in his new relationship. “I thought you said she’s not going to hold you responsible for any of that, though. She made the decision before she even met you.”

Loki nodded. That was the problem though, wasn’t it? If Sylvie had a baby, and it wasn’t his baby, then what room would he have in her life after that? He didn’t want to leave her stranded, but he also didn’t know if he was going to have any role at all in the baby’s life. Will they just…ignore this new complication? It was a lot to think about.

Every time he saw Sylvie, though, the doubts disappeared. She would give him a smile full of dimples, a spark in her cerulean eyes. Her hair, fully grown out of her old 80s hairdo, was often tied in low, twin buns that made him want nothing but to untie them (and then take off the rest of her clothes).

During the week, they didn’t have time to meet every day. They’d constantly talk and text, sending memes and funny cat videos to each other. He’d spend the night at her place on the weekends, and she’d go up to his during the week.

He knew she didn’t like his apartment much, it being in the city (although she did appreciate his espresso machine, at least). She also liked Natasha, who would slither in her tank and hiss at her, staring through non-blinking eyes. She was a rare sable superconda Hognose, fully black. Sylvie took to her from the first time they met, taking her out of the tank and allowing her to slither and rest on her arm.

“Aren’t you so cute with your smooshed little nose,” she purred at the snake, who promptly flattened her neck, pretending to be a Cobra. “Oh, now. Don’t be scared,” Sylvie said. “I won’t hurt you.”

To Loki’s surprise, the snake calmed down. He gave Sylvie a dazzling smile, which she returned.

“I think she likes me,” she said, proud of herself, and gently returned Natasha to her tank. Loki, who couldn’t hold back any longer, pulled Sylvie in for her kiss, picked her up and carried her to bed.

*

Whatever doctor’s appointments and scans she had for her pregnancy, she kept him out of. She would joke about how the doctor held a ‘freaking measuring tape’ to her belly every appointment, to check on the baby’s growth. The scans, she supplied at his inquiries, showed that everything was normal. All the fingers and toes were in place, at least.

She showed him a picture, and he laughed at the unmistakable bump between the baby’s legs.

“Ugh,” Sylvie said, scrunching her nose, “can you believe I have a penis inside me right now?”

“We can always add another one,” Loki said suggestively, which earned him a well-aimed smack to his chest.

“Ew, Loki!” she called, making cute little puking noises. “Don’t be disgusting.”

He was already making dad jokes, it seemed. It made him worried more than anything else.

She was finally starting to show, now, her previously flat belly now round, and growing every day. She was forced to exchange her beloved cargo pants with maternity jeans she found at Goodwill (she flat out refused his offer to buy her new clothes). They were flared, and one day Darcy borrowed them and added some colorful needlework daisies.

“There,” she said when she brought them by the store (so Sylvie told him), “now your boho-chic is complete.”

Sylvie was a bit mad at this, until he convinced her it was actually a good look. Which it was, what with her button-down shirts and twin pigtails. Whenever he dropped in for a visit, chatting with Mobius until Sylvie was ready to leave, he could see heads turning after her slender form. Pregnancy made her even more beautiful than she already was, which should have been impossible; at any rate, it ironically made her more noticeable to other man.

Loki was torn between jealousy and chest-popping pride. Either way, he assured Sylvie he liked her new 60s chic very much.

“All you need is a crochet cardigan and you have the full look,” he suggested, and she scrunched her nose at him and went to her record player haughtily. They then danced to the sound of the Bee-Gees, Sylvie’s hair falling loose from is ties, floating around her head as she twirled in her living room.

One day, when they were standing together looking at his mother’s statue, Sylvie jerked in surprise, her hand flying to her stomach.

“Something wrong?” he asked, worried. She gave him a look full of wonder, her lips slightly parted.

“No,” she said, “no, it’s…”

She trailed off. Instead of continuing, she took his hand, gently placing it on her stomach. They both waited with bated breath. At first, nothing happened, and then he felt it: something moved under his hand, pushing against the pressure and disappearing again. For some reason all sound fell away, like it did that day in the lookout. Loki looked at Sylvie, whose eyes were shining with unshed tears.

He had a strange urge to lean down in front of her belly and say something to the being inside it, but he held himself back. It wasn’t his place, after all. This baby was entirely hers; he had no right to tell it anything.

*

Sunday afternoon, as he did most weekends, he went to visit his mother. When he entered the old barn she now used as her studio, she was up on a ladder, working on her latest creation: a large tree, seemingly made out of countless tangled ropes. It was a complex thing, incredibly delicate for such a large object.

“Be right with you, dear,” Frigga said, going back to attack the piece of wood with a Dremel.

“Interesting choice,” he told her, “making a tree out of wood.”

“I know,” Frigga said, rolling her eyes, “but in this case it was the right medium.”

“Got a buyer for it yet?” Loki asked, as they walked together back to the house.

“The city wants it, actually,” Frigga said, “to put in the lobby of the new city hall.”

“Wow,” Loki said, “that’s great, mom.”

Frigga shrugged.

“All in a day’s work,” she said.

“Sylvie likes your mother and baby statue,” Loki mentioned, and Frigga immediately grew serious.

“I saw her running the other day,” she said. “She didn’t see me, before you ask.”

“And?” Loki asked, already suspicious of where this was going. This time of year, Sylvie’s running clothes were pretty revealing, after all.

“I couldn’t help but notice she’s growing thick around the middle,” Frigga said. When he didn’t question or deny her claim, she sighed. “So it’s true then? You got the girl pregnant?”

“No, actually,” Loki said, impatient.

“I know what I saw, Loki,” Frigga said.

“Well, yes, okay,” Loki said, annoyed. “She is pregnant, but it isn’t mine.”

“I’m sorry?” Frigga asked, surprised.

“She’s further along than she looks,” Loki explained. “She was already pregnant when I first met her.”

Frigga frowned.

“Did she just come out of another relationship, or…”

“No,” he cut her off, and explained about Sylvie situation. Frigga nodded, first surprised and then serious. “She didn’t plan any of this. Us, I mean. The pregnancy was a done deal when we started dating. And before you ask then yes, she did tell me about it in advance.”

“Okay,” Frigga said, lifting her palms up in surrender. “I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into.”

Loki nodded.

“I know you’re worried,” he said, “but that’s between me and Sylvie.”

Frigga nodded.

“Of course it is,” she agreed, more to placate him than anything else, “but if you ever need to talk about it, I’m here, ok?”

“Yes,” Loki said shortly. “Thank you.”

*

He didn’t plan on going back to Sylvie’s after his visit with his mom, but he was overcome with a sudden need to see her, to hold her in his arms. So, instead of driving straight to his apartment in the city, he made a detour and dropped by Sylvie’s instead.

“Hey!” she said when she opened the door, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just had to see you, I guess.”

She obviously wasn’t expecting anyone tonight; her hair was a tangled mess, and she was wearing one of her faded t-shirts that had holes in them. Her ever inquisitive eyes grew worried as they scanned his face. He pulled her into a tight hug, which she took without word for a few minutes.

“What’s wrong?” Sylvie asked eventually. “Did your mom say anything to upset you?”

“No,” he lied, shaking his head.

“Loki…” she said in warning. Her eyebrows grew closer together and she was giving one of her icy ‘I see through your bullshit’ looks.

He sighed and rubbed his face with his hand, then ran his hand through his hair.

“She saw you run the other day,” Loki explained, “and she had a few questions about your…new figure.”

“Oh,” Sylvie said quietly. “I see.”

Loki gave a short, humorless laugh.

“She thought I got you pregnant.”

“Do I need to go over there and set things straight?” she asked. He wasn’t sure if she was amused, mortified, or mad.

“No, I explained everything,” Loki said. He pulled her in tighter, her round, hard bump squeezed between their bodies. Something moved inside it, pushing against him, and they both laughed.

“You’re smooshing Bear,” Sylvie said, using the nickname she had for the baby.

“I’m sorry, Bear,” Loki told the bump, which pushed him again.

Sylvie laughed and pulled back.

“Come on,” she said. “I was just about to have dinner. You can stay for that, but I’m afraid that afterwards I’ll have to kick you out so you’ll make it to work on time tomorrow. I don’t want you on Odin’s bad side first thing on Monday morning.”

“You and Bear both,” Loki said with reluctant acceptance, “always pushing me around.”

“Like mother, like son, I guess,” Sylvie said lightly, and Loki’s heart gave a painful squeeze that almost stopped him in his tracks; Almost, because he had to pretend to feel nothing at the statement. For Sylvie’s sake, and for his own.

Chapter Text

As the third trimester of her pregnancy approached, Sylvie was struck with an irrepressible urge to clean and tidy everything in her apartment. And in Loki’s. Sometimes at the store, too. The men in her life took it with a range of reactions, from bemusement (Casey) to adoration (Loki). Mobius only reacted with good humor, as was his way. When he caught her polishing all the new water bottles, only just unboxed and without a speck of dust on them, he just laughed.

“Easy with the nesting, there, champ,” he told her. “It’s not like you’re going to raise the baby in the store.”

She stopped what she was doing and looked at him, baffled.

“Nesting?” she asked, unsure. “What’s that?”

“Oh, boy,” Mobius said. “I feel like I should call Emily for this conversation.”

Emily, always reliable, stopped by the store after her work day, offering to take Sylvie out for some afternoon coffee and cake. Sylvie, who had been sold on ‘coffee’, brightened up even more at the mention of cake. It seemed that her taste for sugar only grew exponentially since she’d gotten pregnant. She ate every sweet thing she could put her hands on, and still had a feeling she was losing weight instead of gaining it. Her arms and face grew thinner, at any rate, even as her belly and boobs grew larger.

Over hot drinks (Sylvie had hot cocoa), Emily patiently explained to Sylvie what was going on with her strange new domestic urges.

“Your body is making you prepare for the baby,” she told Sylvie. “When I was pregnant with Sean, I spent a whole month sanitizing every hand-me-down toy I came across. I made small blankets. I did laundry by the tons.”

“Oh,” Sylvie said, frowning.

“What?” Emily asked.

“Nothing,” Sylvie said. “I don’t actually have any hand-me-downs or anything yet.”

“That’s easily fixed,” Emily said. “I still have a ton of things left from Kevin in our garage. Are you having a boy or a girl?”

“Boy,” Sylvie said, relieved. Not that she would have refused any boy clothes even if she was having a girl, but this definitely made things easier.

“Great,” Emily said. “Then I have a ton of baby clothes too.”

“Thank you,” Sylvie said, truly grateful.

“What about some new things, though?” Emily asked. “Are you having a baby shower?”

Sylvie thought about this. She wasn’t, in fact, planning on having one, simply because she had no close friends to invite to one. She figured that if she asked, Jane would come, and probably Darcy too. Both of them have been frequenting the store a lot more since she began seeing Loki, and she liked Darcy even if she did turn her sensible jeans into something out of 1969. Emily would of course be invited too, but…

“No, I don’t think so,” Sylvie said with finality. “I think I’ll just buy whatever I need.”

“Okay,” Emily said. She had a slight frown on her face, no doubt following Sylvie’s unspoken line of thought; but unlike her husband, she kept her psychological evaluations to herself.

“Let me know if I can help you with anything, okay?” Emily implored. “And for god’s sake, read a pregnancy book. Watch some videos maybe. You need to have at least some idea of what you’re getting yourself into.”

*

Loki, at least, was as sweet as always. He accompanied her to Mobius and Emily’s house and dutifully carried everything that Emily unloaded on him. Bags upon bags of baby clothes, toys, towels, activity mats, a bouncer, a crib and more.

“Babies need a lot of things,” he remarked, and Sylvie nodded.

“I hope I have room for all this in my apartment,” she admitted, once they were alone. “It’s going to get really crowded once Bear is born, I suspect.”

“Well, if you need extra space you can always move in with me,” he said. She assumed he was joking, so she only scrunched her nose at him in return.

“I just hope you don’t run for the hills on the first week,” she said, and Loki got a peculiar expression on his face. She didn’t understand what it meant, and he lowered his eyes quickly so as not to meet hers.

He’s probably going to flake on me eventually, she reminded herself. Sure, having him around turned out to be a lot more fun than she expected, but she couldn’t just expect him to stay and care for her and her baby. It wasn’t his job; not one that he signed up for, anyway.

Loki, who noticed she was looking at him, took the opportunity to pull her closer and kiss her cheek. She laughed and wiggled out of his hold, setting her attention on the piles of stuff she had to organize.

Now, at least, her nesting instincts had a purpose, and she spent a few evenings happily cleaning and organizing all her new things. She waited until Loki left before unpacking the clothes for the first time, marveling at every tiny outfit. Not bothering to wait for Loki, she carried everything to the washing machines downstairs. She had to be self-reliant, she knew. Loki wasn’t her personal porter, after all.

*

“I’m going to be busy this Sunday,” she told Loki later that week.

“With what?” he asked, curious and disappointed.

“I need to shop for some things for the baby,” she explained. “I want to get it over with before I’m too big to move.”

“Probably smart,” he agreed, making a funny face. “I could come with you, maybe? If you want. I mean. I could help you carry. Not that you need help, it’s just…”

“Loki,” she cut him off, putting him out of his misery. “Would you like to go baby shopping with me?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’d like to, yes.”

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay.”

“I will need help carrying, after all.”

“I’m happy to help,” he said quickly, earnestly. “Really. Let’s go baby shopping.”

“I have no idea what to buy,” she admitted than.

“What do you need?” he asked, frowning thoughtfully.

“A Stroller,” she said, “and a car seat. Probably some sort of thermometer. Diapers maybe?”

“And you don’t know what kind?” Loki asked, understanding without her having to explain.

“Yeah,” she said. “No idea.”

“I can help with that,” Loki suggested. “If you like. I bet it’s possible to find recommendations online and whatnot.”

“Aren’t you busy all day with your fancy job?” she asked, perplexed by his offer.

“Not so much now that the acquisition came through,” Loki said. “It’s kind of a slow period. It’s no bother, really.”

She looked at him suspiciously, but he seemed so earnest, hopeful even, that she gave in and let him loose on the internet.

“Don’t go overboard, though,” she warned him. “It needs to be something I can afford.”

“If you want, I can…” he started, but she cut him off immediately.

“No,” she said, finite and resolute. “I mean, I appreciate the thought, but…”

She trailed off.

“But you need to this yourself?” he asked softly.

She nodded. He smiled sadly, reaching down to take her hand in his. “I understand,” he said. “You need to be self-reliant.” He kissed her hand. “I love that about you,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

He didn’t tell her he loved her, yet, but declarations such as this were becoming more frequent. Sylvie didn’t reply, letting the moment pass. His feelings for her and, more importantly, her feelings for him, were too much to process on top of everything else. So she pushed them aside and ignored them, preferring to enjoy his company in the time they had left.

*

The summer was at its peak now, and Sylvie was sweating a little. She opted for a loose fit tank-top to accompany her new pair of (thankfully flower free) maternity jeans. She missed her cargo pants, but for some reason, those were impossible to find in maternity (at least at Goodwill).

Pregnancy, she found, had pluses and minuses. One big plus was her hair, which was thicker and shinier than it ever was. It was longer than it was in years, too, falling on her shoulders in lush waves. The only downside was that she couldn’t dye it right now, fearing that it wasn’t safe for the baby, and so it was brown all the way down to her chin.

A big minus of being pregnant, though, was that standing up for any period of time made her vaj feel like it was about to explode. She wasn’t exactly sure why that was, only something about pressure from her big belly; but often, after she’d been walking for too long, she found herself sitting on a bag of frozen peas just to ease the pressure a little bit.

She didn’t tell Loki this. Some weirdness was best kept a mystery, she decided. If he ever noticed her sitting on peas, at any rate, he was kind enough not to ask.

Anyway, it was a glorious day indeed. Loki, whose solution for the heat was to tie his hair in a man-bun, was walking besides her in the crowded mall. As promised, he’d prepared a list of all the best baby products, with pros and cons of each.  Sylvie didn’t know if she should be grateful or exasperated, and so eventually settled on both.

“Okay,” Loki said, leading her towards a big name baby store, “they will have everything you need. Also, I saw on their website that they’re having a sale…”

Shopping went smoothly, after that. Loki had apparently taken his research seriously, and he found her everything she needed, at a decent budget. Well, it was a small fortune really, but she had set money aside for this purpose when she found out she was pregnant, so did not panic too much at the final sum.

After they had everything, Loki insisted on getting some fro-yo, and while she was busy enjoying the cold treat, he disappeared. She waited patiently for him to come back, wondering idly if he somehow managed to get cold feet in the two minute walk from the baby store to the yogurt place.

She was about to give up on him and leave, when he finally returned.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean for this to take this long.”

“Where have you been?” she asked, surprised and a little angry. “I thought you left me.”

“What, now?” Loki asked, actually laughing. “You didn’t even have the baby yet. Please give me more credit than that.”

He meant it as a joke, but it stung anyway.

“Well?” she asked coolly.

“I know you didn’t want me to get any of the baby things,” Loki said, speaking very quickly, “but you didn’t say anything about not getting the baby a present and since you’re not having a baby shower and I did want to get you something…”

“Get to the point,” she cut him off, the quick flow of words causing her heartbeat to pick up.

“I went to that fancy baby boutique down the street,” he explained, handing her a pale blue paper bag. “This is for you. For the baby.”

“What is it?” she asked as she took the bag from him.

“A present,” he said simply.

Sylvie peered inside the bag, where she found a beautiful mobile; it had a few forest animals, a wolf and a fox, a hare and a bear, with some different leaves and flowers, all in soft natural colors.

“It’s hand-crafted,” Loki explained, visibly nervous now.

Sylvie had to blink a few times to chase the tears away. Eventually, when she felt like she was strong enough, she raised her eyes to meet his.

“It’s perfect,” she said honestly. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he smiled sheepishly. He pulled her into a hug, laying a kiss on her forehead. Sylvie closed her eyes and, just for a moment, allowed herself to feel completely safe and loved in his arms.

Chapter Text

By the time they returned from their shopping, their hands full of packages, the sun was starting to set. Loki helped Sylvie carry all the heavier things upstairs, adding them to the growing pile of baby things in the corner of the living room.

The sunset lit the apartment a soft golden light, bouncing off Sylvie’s hair and dancing on the walls. Loki followed the movement, mesmerized. Sylvie, who went in after him, laughed when she noticed.

“You’re just like Bruce,” she said, amused.

He turned and walked towards her, enjoying the pink blush that spread on her cheeks and up her neck.

“A more handsome version, I hope,” he said, his voice low.

She put a finger to her mouth, pretending to be deep in thought.

“Hmm,” she said, tapping her lower lip, “let’s see…”

Whatever she was trying to say died under his kiss. It was true that he just couldn’t keep his hands off of her these days. One would’ve thought that her growing figure, a constant reminder that she was carrying someone else’s child, would deter him; but it somehow made her even more desirable. He would never tell her that, but she reminded him of those ancient Venus figurines, those lush fertility goddesses from a time long gone.

“Slightly…more…handsome…” she breathed out between kisses, and as punishment, he gently bit her lower lip.

“Just slightly?” he asked.

“Y…yes…” she breathed again, her breath catching in her throat when he leaned in to kiss her neck. She shuddered, pulled into him until their bodies were flush together.

“Mm,” Loki said, leaving a trail of wet kisses up her neck. “Bed?”

“Yes please,” she answered, urgent.

She squealed in protest as he leaned down and picked her up, carrying her bridal style to the bedroom. She was getting heavier now, but he could still lift her easily. He laid her on the bed gently, befitting how precious she was to him; but the gentleness didn’t last long. Sylvie, her eyes full of mischief, sat up on her knees and pulled him down on the bed, pushing until he was splayed on his back, looking up at her in awe.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, and she smirked.

“I know,” she answered lazily. “Now, take your clothes off.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, obeying instantly. There was no refusing that tone. Sylvie sat up and watched him take his shirt off, then his pants, biting her lower lip lazily and letting her eyes roam freely all over his body.

“Now,” she said when he was down to his underwear, “on your back.”

Loki did as she said, though he longed to touch her. Sylvie, her eyes gleaming, laid down on top of him, kissing him languidly. When he was sure she wouldn’t object, he began pulling her tank top over her head. She helped him take the garment off, and wriggled impatiently out of her pants, so that now they were on more equal grounds.

“May I take you braids off?” he asked, and she hummed. She had her hair in two long braids today, and he’d wanted to take them apart and brush his fingers through her hair for the whole damn day.

“I thought you like my hair in braids,” Sylvie said between kisses.

“I like your hair in every form,” Loki said. “I even liked the mullet you had when we first met.”

“Hey!” she said, smacking him lightly. “That wasn’t a mullet. It was a wolf cut!”

“What’s the difference?” he wondered as he opened the clasp of her bra, burying his face between her inviting breasts.

“No idea,” she breathed, arching her back as he took a pert nipple into his mouth.

“I love your boobs,” he informed her and she laughed, shuddering again as he moved the nipple quickly with his tongue.

“Well…they’re…so…much…bigger…now…” she said, her breath rushing to a crescendo as she was overtaken by the first orgasm of the day.

Another great thing about Sylvie: she came quickly and easily and as a result of anything at all. Not that he didn’t work hard at making her come; on the contrary, over their time together he had tried everything that came to mind just to see what worked. The list was mind blowing: so far, Sylvie had come from kissing, neck kissing, nipple play, back kisses, licking the inside of her elbow and going down on him.

“Is it because you’re pregnant?” he’d asked her once, after another bout of mind blowing sex.

“No idea,” she said thoughtfully, “it was rarely like that, before.”

“Rarely?” he asked, intrigued.

“Well, I have never been with someone so dedicated to the task,” she admitted, a lovely blush coloring her cheeks.

“And here I thought you were just the Mary Sue of orgasms,” Loki said, trying (and failing) not to swell with pride.

“Maybe I am,” she teased. “Maybe I’m just lucky.”

“I think I’m lucky,” he answered, pulling her down to bury his face between her legs just to get her to come yet again. The more he had of her, the more he wanted; the more he felt like he’d die if he couldn’t have her again.

Her growing belly did change the logistics of the act a little, though. Sylvie did no longer feel comfortable on her back (although he loved her on her back, especially with her legs spread wide and her hands holding unto the headboard for dear life as he railed her). These days, she was usually on top of him, giving him a magnificent view of her lush, lovely curves.

Now, she took the opportunity to wiggle down and settle between his legs, a devilish smile on her face. He looked on in awe as she started licking his cock, hissing loudly as she finally took him into her mouth. He was too big for her to take fully in (and she wasn’t into shoving things down her throat, as she resolutely informed him), so instead she took his bottom half in her palms, working her hands and her tongue in tandem, making him moan as he grew harder and harder in her mouth.

“Oh, Sylvie,” he said, and he didn’t know if he was complimenting or begging, but Sylvie just squeezed under his balls with one hand, working him with the other, and he swore loudly. Eventually, just before it all became too much, she took him out of her mouth, raised one leg over his hips and took him into her wet, hot cunt.

They both moaned loudly as he slid inside. She was so wet and ready for him, so good; pregnancy had made her cunt tighter somehow, and he closed his eyes as he felt every nook and cranny, gliding in and out and rapidly approaching heaven.

It wasn’t enough. He needed to feel more of her.

Rising up to a sitting position, still inside her, he pulled her into a hug, covering her face with kisses until their lips locked. They moved together, sliding him in and out of her, kissing, her full breasts tickling his chest and her round belly between them, until Sylvie came with a sharp cry, immediately followed by Loki. Their orgasms worked in a feedback loop, lengthening each other, so that by the time they came down from the high and the aftershocks they collapsed, spent, back on the bed.

Loki laid down on his back, pulling Sylvie on top of him like a blanket. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply and curling up like a sleepy cat.

“You smell good,” she said, sounding content and happy.

“I love you,” tumbled out of his mouth before he could think it over. The truth is, he didn’t want to think it over; the declaration had been on the tip of his tongue for a while now, maybe all the way back to the lookout.

Sylvie stiffened on top of him.

“Loki…” she began, careful.

“It’s okay,” he said and wrapped his arms around her, scared that she might try to pull away. “I don’t expect you to say anything back. It’s just how I feel, that’s all.”

Sylvie was quiet for a long time, the tension slowly draining from her body as she settled back down on top of him. He had already started drifting off when she spoke again, her voice almost too quiet to hear.

“I love you too,” she said. “I do. Feelings are just hard for me, that’s all.”

“I know,” he said, kissing her temple. “I’m the same.”

She nodded into his neck. He pulled her into a tight hug and drifted off to sleep again, with her body heat keeping him warm.

*

Loki woke up soaked in sweat. For a moment he blinked, confused, not sure where he was, and then heard Sylvie’s soft breaths and remembered.

We must have fallen asleep after sex, he thought to himself, wondering what woke him up. He sat up, looking back at Sylvie who was curled up, sound asleep, in a patch of pale moonlight. She was still naked, her body almost shining in the pale light. Though it was probably pointless to do so, Loki leaned down and covered her with the cool bedsheet. She mumbled something incomprehensible, burrowing deeper into the pillow.

Loki smiled.

Beautiful.

Unbidden, memories of the dream he had floated into his consciousness; it was something about a baby, Sylvie with a baby, and him being pushed aside as if she never knew him at all. It was ridiculous, he told himself sternly. He wasn’t in competition with the damn baby. It was just…well…

With a quiet sigh, Loki stood up and started hunting for his clothes. A peek at his phone showed that it was nearly 5am. Soon he would have to get up anyway. While he got dressed, he debated whether to tell Sylvie anything, but she looked so peaceful in sleep that he couldn’t bring himself to wake her up.

There was something weird about the dream; the baby kept changing shape, his face grew dark and light again and…even blue, at some point? Loki laughed silently at the thought of Sylvie having a Muppet baby. In the dream, Sylvie put the baby down in a crib that looked like a furry brown bear, and while she went off somewhere Loki was left to his own devices, alone and forgotten.

Well, not alone, because the baby was there, the ever changing freakish amorphous baby; Loki went on tiptoe, closing in on the crib, and for a moment the baby’s features suddenly stabilized: he had pale skin, with a mop of pitch-black hair on his head. His eyes were big and blue, and he was looking up at Loki with a toothless smile.

Shivering in spite of the warm night, Loki told himself to get a grip. What was happening to him? This whole situation was messing with his mind. There was no reason for the baby to look like him, anyway, nor was there a reason for him to want the baby to look like him.

It wasn’t his baby, after all. Only hers.

Sylvie mumbled something in her sleep and shifted from her curled position to lying flat on her back. Loki, who remembered she told him she was supposed to only sleep on her left side, debated with himself whether to wake her up.

Eventually, he decided against it. If she shifted in her sleep, it must be fine, he concluded, again fighting the illogical urge to fend for her and her baby.

Where do I fit in here? He asked himself, but no answer came.

Instead, he washed his face and brushed his teeth; then, with one last loving look at Sylvie, went out of her apartment and on to his own, in time to get ready for a new workday.

Chapter Text

Sleep was hit or miss, these days. For starters, she was only supposed to lie down on her left side, or risk hurting the baby. Also, she was often awakened in the middle of the night by sudden, painful leg cramps; those, she learned after digging online, were most easily solved by banging the aching leg as hard as she could on the floor. This habit, it turned out, did not endear her to her downstairs neighbors.

Worst of all, of course, was the baby’s habit of breaking into dance just as she was down in bed, ready to fall asleep. Dr. Willis explained that during the day, the movements of Sylvie’s body made the baby sleepy, because it was basically rocking as if in a crib; at night, when she stopped moving, that’s unfortunately when the baby woke up.

Then there were the dreams. They were the strangest, most vivid dreams Sylvie has ever had. Many of them had a theme of her giving birth to various animals: a snake, a wolf and, memorably, a horse with eight legs. Loki, who found all this fascinating, took to asking her each morning “what animal did you give birth to last night?” (The answer “Chernobyl horse” was definitely the most memorable).

She also had other, more realistic dreams, in which she got to meet her baby. It was a beautiful, human baby. Mostly, his features were fuzzy, but once or twice she saw him clear as day, with a tuft of black hair on his head an eyes as blue as glaciers. It wasn’t lost on her that he looked just like Loki, in those dreams, or at least a baby version of him. At any rate, those particular dreams were the ones she didn’t tell him about.

“Oh, the weird pregnancy dreams!” Darcy said one day, when they got around to talking about it. It was a lazy mid-week afternoon, and she was allegedly there looking for a birthday gift for Howard. Eventually, after turning down every single thing Mobius offered, she ended up confessing she was just trying to avoid Jane.

“We’re writing a grant, you see,” she said, “and it’s really boring and taking forever, not to mention Jane always turns into a nerve-wreck when the deadline is approaching, so I figured I best make a run for it before she bites my head off.”

“You’re a reliable intern, aren’t you?” Mobius asked sarcastically.

“I’m not an intern, I’m a PhD candidate,” Darcy informed him cheerfully.

“I see great things in your future,” Mobius said.

“Do you see coffee in my future?” Darcy asked, not missing a beat. “Because I’d kill for coffee right about now.”

“Oh, alright, I’ll make coffee,” Mobius said with a defeated sigh. “But I don’t have any of that fancy espresso stuff here.”

“That’s alright,” Darcy said. “I take cream and two sugars please!”

“Anything for you?” Mobius asked Sylvie, who was stationed behind the counter.

“Black and bitter, like my soul,” Sylvie answered with a saccharine smile. “Thanks, Mobius!”

“Don’t mention it,” Mobius said, disappearing into the back room.

“Where were we?” Darcy asked.

“Dreams,” Sylvie said.

“Oh, yeah! I had so many strange dreams when I was pregnant. Like, in one of them Howard was a duck.”

“What?” Sylvie asked, amused.

“Yeah, they used to call him ‘Howard the duck’ in school, don’t ask me why,” Darcy said, “except in this dream he was literally a duck, you know, with a beak and all.”

“That’s weird,” Sylvie said.

“Tell me about it,” Darcy continued. “Even stranger was that we were running throughout the whole galaxy trying to defend our kid, which was just an unhatched egg.”

“That’s wild,” Sylvie said.

Mobius came back, and both women gratefully accepted their coffees.

“Hence the name ‘Birdie’,” Darcy explained. “It’s not her real name, you know.”

“What is her real name?” Sylvie asked.

“Gene,” Darcy said. “After Gene Simmons.”

“Classy,” Mobius said, looking genuinely impressed.

“What about Emily?” Sylvie asked him. “Did she have weird pregnancy dreams?”

“Oh, yeah,” Mobius said, chuckling. “For example, when she was pregnant with Kevin she had a dream that she had two boys, and one of them was constantly trying to stab the other with a dagger while laughing maniacally.”

“That’s dark,” Darcy said.

“I had strange dreams too, when she was pregnant, now that I think of it,” Mobius added.

“Like what?” Sylvie asked.

“Like…once I dreamed that she gave birth to a clock,” Mobius said.

“A clock?” Sylvie asked, incredulous.

“Yeah,” Mobius said, “but not just any ol’ clock. This one was alive. It was big, and orange, and spoke with a southern accent…it was the stuff of nightmares.”

Sylvie and Darcy started laughing.

“Only you, Mobius,” Sylvie said, giggling.

“I also have weird dreams,” piped up Casey, who up until that point was keeping himself busy arranging one of the displays.

“Such as?” Mobius asked.

“Well,” Casey said, “a couple weeks ago I took my nephew to ‘baby and me’, and they were playing this song called ‘slippery fish.”

“Oh, I love that song!” Darcy said enthusiastically, and began humming while Sylvie and Mobius exchanged bemused looks.

“Yeah, and that night I dreamed I was a fish!” Casey said.

“Did an Octopus eat you?” Darcy asked.

“Great White shark,” Casey said, shuddering.

“What is this song?!” Sylvie asked, perplexed.

“You’ll learn soon enough,” Darcy said, petting her on the shoulder.

“It’s kinda dark,” Casey said.

“Oh, yeah,” Darcy agreed. “A real horror story.”

“O-kay,” Mobius said, evidently deciding to take control of the situation. “Darcy, it’s great to have you here, but we’ve got work to do, so either buy something, or get out.”

“Sheesh, no need to be harsh,” Darcy said, clearly not actually offended. “Hey, Syl, if you want I can embroider these pants too,” she offered. “My flowers are getting really good.”

“No, thanks,” Sylvie said icily. “I’ve had enough people telling me I look groovy to last me a lifetime.”

“Your loss,” Darcy said airily. “Stay cool, Mobius!”

“Will do,” Mobius called after her. She waved at them from the door and left.

“I like her,” Casey said. “Do you think she’ll go out with me?”

“She’s literally married with a kid, Casey,” Sylvie reminded him.

“Oh, yeah,” Casey said, giggling. “Never mind.”

Not for the first time, Sylvie wondered whether a careless relative dropped Casey on his head as a baby. Instinctively, she laid a protective hand on her belly. Bear was wiggling in there, his little limbs tickling her as she silently made a solemn promise to hold on to him tight and never let him fall.

*

Loki was growing more distant. He said that something had come up at work, some crisis his father needed him to solve immediately. She played it cool, never telling him how much she missed him on the nights he wasn’t with her. She didn’t want to worry him, or to appear needlessly clingy. He didn’t owe her anything, after all. They were just having a bit of fun, weren’t they? She didn’t think that when push comes to shove he’d find room in his life for a woman with a baby.

Still, on the nights he wasn’t with her she felt the loneliness more sharply. She would sit in the soft chair in the living room, staring out the window at the green treetops outside. Bruce, who must have sensed she needed company, would spend more time with her on those nights. He would curl up and go to sleep on her round, hard belly, and sometimes Bear would kick him from the inside, making him wobble slightly.

Sylvie was fascinated. Here was Bear, not even born yet, already demanding that they make him room. Her heart swelled. She liked it like this, having him safe in her body, curled up under her heart. She was so scared that she won’t be able to protect him after he was born.

Like her parents weren’t able to protect her.

They died of cancer, which was bad enough. People usually found it surprising that they both died of the same disease, and so little time apart; but sometimes life just didn’t make sense. Sometimes, they were dark and cruel for absolutely no reason.

Her dad died first. He had pancreatic cancer, and he was dead three months after his initial diagnosis. There and then gone, just like that. After he died, her mother got sick. She had lung cancer, which meant she would last longer, but also that there was no way to operate. It was a violent strain, not much to do, and it quickly became clear that she was not responding well to treatment.

A little before she died she took Sylvie to the campsite by the lake. They made a small fire and sat with it warming their backs, staring for hours at the full moon reflecting on the peaceful water.

“After I’m gone, you come here,” her mom had said. “Don’t let them put you into the system. You can make a good life for yourself, out here. You can hunt and gather, but just enough. Never be greedy, Sylvie, okay? Nature is kind to those who respect it.”

“But how will I survive out here, all alone?” Sylvie asked. Tears were rolling on her cheeks, and she was sniffling pathetically.

“You’re a survivor, Sylvie Lushton,” her mother had said. “Always have been. Just remember what I told you, and you’ll be alright.”

She was gone by the end of that year and, true to her word, Sylvie left the hospital and disappeared into the mountains until her eighteenth birthday was well and gone and she could finally be free. She stayed for a long time after that, too. What eventually chased her down the mountain was the winter, the bitter cold proving too much for her little shelter. She got a job, got the truck, and got some old botany books.

The next spring, she went up the mountain again. The camp greeted her like an old friend. She sat alone at night, her back to the fire, looking at the moonlight reflecting off the water, and thought about her parents. She did this every season for a few years, before the need for stability won her over and she got a steadier job, and an actual apartment.

She missed that freedom terribly, these days; more than that, she missed her mother. She longed for a mother’s advice right about now, when she was about to become a mother herself.

When Loki showed up at her house, later that night, he found her running around furiously, packing a backpack for an overnight stay.

“Where are you going?” he asked gingerly.

“The lake,” she replied shortly.

“By yourself?” he asked, an edge of worry in his voice.

“I can handle myself, Loki,” she said, impatient.

“I know you can,” Loki said. “I know.”

He moved towards her slowly, carefully, as if she was a frightened fawn.

“It’s just that…”

“What?” she stopped and looked at him, torn between the need to hug him and the need to push him out of her way.

“Well, you’re not…things are kind of…”

He trailed off and, very carefully, put his hands on her arms.

“What?” she asked, impatient now.

“Nothing,” Loki said. “It’s late. Why don’t we go to bed?”

“I need to finish this,” she said.

“I know,” Loki answered, his voice measured and soothing. “I can go up there with you, if you like. Tomorrow at first light, okay?”

She looked at him, not comprehending.

“You’ll come with me?”

She hated how hopeful she sounded.

“Yes,” he said. “In daylight, not the middle of the night with all the bears and raccoons and…skunks.”

Despite herself, she chuckled.

“That’s okay,” she said, sagging. “We don’t have to go at all.”

“We don’t?” he asked, confused. “But I thought…”

“It’s not about the lake, anyway,” she confessed, inching closer to him.

“What’s it about, then?” he asked, taking her in his arms and kissing her temple.

“I just…miss my mom, that’s all,” she said quietly, not looking at him. “I used to have the best conversations with her, up there.”

“I see,” Loki said, holding tighter unto her. “Um…I don’t know if that helps or not, but…I can take you to see my mom, tomorrow, maybe?”

“It wouldn’t be the same,” Sylvie said, feeling immensely sad.

“I know,” Loki said. “She is great, though. And she’s been pestering me to bring you over. It might take your mind off things a little.”

He sounded so hopeful, and she’d missed him more than she was willing to admit.

“Okay,” she said eventually.

“Okay,” he answered, kissing her temple again. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy this week. My father keeps finding pointless work for me to do. It’s driving me insane.”

“Maybe you can strike out on your own,” Sylvie suggested, only half joking, but Loki shook his head.

“I actually like my job, as strange as it may seem to you. I know it’s not as exciting as going into the wild and shooting turkeys, but it’s pretty satisfying, when things come together.”

She frowned.

“Shooting turkeys?”

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m just tired. I really missed you this week.”

“I missed you too,” she admitted, and before she would find any more reasons to be mad at him, grabbed his hand and dragged him to bed. With his arms around her, she had no dreams at all. It was the best sleep she had in weeks.

Chapter Text

The next day they went out to the mountains, to a cozy spot Sylvie knew; it was an easy walk, about an hour in all, to a small clearing hidden between large trees and bushes. There was a small stream that passed through it, and they sat next to it for a few hours, enjoying a quiet picnic.

To Loki’s relief, Sylvie seemed to calm down the minute they entered the woods. The previous night she was almost frantic, packing her backpack with the crazy idea of going up to the distant lake, all alone. He got scared for her, then; what if something was to happen, and she needed help? That place was far away, with no cell reception. What if she ran into trouble, which she couldn’t outrun due to her pregnant belly?

He didn’t tell her why he wanted to go with her, for fear that she might find it condescending; the truth was that he felt protective. He wanted to be there to help, because he hated the idea of her all alone.

Silently, he berated himself for not finding enough time for her this past week. He didn’t lie when he said he was swamped at work; for some reason, Odin wanted his input on things he never did before, and demanded he micromanage one of the teams that was not doing well. Loki, as usual, did as he was told, desperate to impress his father.

That is, until last night, when he’d really had enough and decided to simply cut work and go to Sylvie’s. It was late on a Friday anyway, and he knew his mother would be frantic if his father didn’t make it home for dinner. So he played the Frigga card, sent his father home and split himself, leaving all unfinished work for future Loki to worry about.

After he got to Sylvie’s and convinced her to come to bed, he lay awake for hours, listening to her steady breathing. He was relieved that he got there in time to stop her, but was worried of what would have happened if he hadn’t been there.

Would she have gone up to the mountains, alone, without telling anyone?

He decided then and there to tell his father off the coming Monday; he could delegate all the silly little side projects to other people, who were on the payroll for this reason. He had his own job to do, after all, and he had Sylvie. She needed him no less than work did. In fact, he suspected she needed him more. He wasn’t going to disappoint her like this.

After he had this conversation in his head, with his imaginary father (who listened for once) he finally fell asleep. In the morning he woke up to the smell of fresh coffee and Sylvie in her hiking clothes, urging him to get dressed before the sun got too high up in the sky.

Now, in the clearing, she was sitting with her legs splayed in front of her, leaning back on her elbows. He face was turned towards the sun, enjoying its warmth, her eyes closed. She reminded him of a lazy cat, and he smiled.

“What?” Sylvie asked, not bothering to open her eyes. There was a smile in her voice, which he took as an encouraging sign.

“Nothing,” Loki said, playing absentmindedly with some blades of grass. “I’m just glad you’re better, that’s all.”

She opened her eyes.

“What do you mean?” she asked, frowning.

“Well, when I arrived last night, you were…” he trailed off, not knowing how to continue.

“Crazy?” she suggested. An ugly, embarrassed blush colored her cheeks.

“A bit stressed,” he said.

She sat up, lowering her eyes to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a muffled voice. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“May I ask what happened?” he asked, tentative.

She shook her head.

“It’s just…” she sighed. “This pregnancy is really making me miss my mother. We used to go up to the lake whenever we needed some time to relax and reflect. It was a special place, just for the two of us. I guess I thought that if I’d go up there I’d feel closer to her, that’s all.”

Loki nodded, and took her hand in his. To his relief, she didn’t object, instead entwining her fingers with his.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there this week,” he said quietly.

“I thought…” she started, tilting her face so it was hidden behind her hair, “I guess I thought you had enough of me.”

“No,” he said, squeezing her hand. “It’s nothing like that, I swear. It was just a busy week at work, it happens sometimes. I’ll talk to my father about it first thing on Monday, I promise.”

“What will you tell him?” she asked, taken aback.

“That I have other responsibilities now,” Loki said, earnest. “That my girlfriend needs me.”

“Your…girlfriend?” she asked weakly.

“Yes,” he said. “You are my girlfriend, aren’t you?”

She blushed again, this time a lovely shade of pink.

“I…I guess I am,” she said, seeming surprised herself.

“Good,” he said, relieved. “I hate to do this, but we need to start heading back if we want to make it in time for dinner with my parents. My mother eats at 6pm sharp, and we need to be showered and dressed before that.”

“I thought it was just an informal dinner!” she protested.

He laughed.

“It is, I promise,” he said. “That’s how the Odinson family does ‘informal’, I’m afraid.”

Sylvie nodded. She said nothing more, but the worry line between her eyebrows did not disappear all the way back to the car.

*

“That’s the house you grew up in?” Sylvie asked, her voice sharp and disbelieving.

“Yeah, why?” Loki asked. “Smaller than you imagined?”

He was joking, of course. His parents’ house, as he knew full well, was enormous; enough to fit Sylvie’s apartment in six or seven times, and that’s without taking the basement and garage into consideration. Not to mention the guesthouse, where Thor lived until he finally moved in with Jane (Loki himself moved into the city as soon as he could afford the rent).

The grounds were impressive too, he knew. They had a pool, a spa, three saunas (he never understood why they needed more than one), a tennis court, a fire pit and a large outdoor kitchen fit with a bar and a barbecue. When Loki was young, he thought this was normal; most of his friends lived in big houses too. It was only in middle school that he discovered some people lived a lot more modestly than he did. He used to boast about his house to them, enjoying the bitter jealousy in their eyes, but eventually he grew out of it (not to mention, he had no friends left).

Now, seeing Sylvie’s expression as she was trying to process what she was seeing, he was suddenly sorry that he didn’t prepare her better. He should have mentioned, he supposed, that his parents were rich; it just never occurred to him to do so, because he honestly never spent any time thinking about it. Nor did he ever think about money; he always had enough for anything he wanted, after all. Even more so, now that he made his money himself.

“It’ll be ok, I promise,” he said, trying to be reassuring.

“You keep saying that,” Sylvie said accusingly. “I’m starting to wonder what else you are hiding.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” he said quietly, trying not to show her he was hurt. “I don’t live here, my parents do. It’s just a house.”

“To you, maybe,” she said. “For most of my life, I lived in a camper.”

“And I bet you had much more fun,” Loki pointed out, which fortunately made her chuckle.

“Yeah, probably,” she said. Then, to his great relief, she took a deep breath and got out of the car. “Come on,” she said, “let’s go and meet the duke and duchess of York, or whatever your parents’ title is.”

“They’re the baron and baroness of Surrey,” he said haughtily, and she laughed.

Loki knocked on the front door, relieved that his parents didn’t have a butler, at least. He suspected that if some stiffy man in a suit opened the door, Sylvie would have run for the hills. As it was, it was Frigga who answered the door. She was dressed smartly in black trousers and a silk blouse, but there was wood dust in her hair. Loki guessed that she got lost in her craft and didn’t have time to shower. To his great relief, Sylvie obviously noticed, because she visibly calmed down.

“Good evening, Mrs. Odinson,” she answered politely to Frigga’s greeting.

“Please, call me Frigga,” she said. “Come in, come in. It’s chilly tonight, isn’t it?”

Loki and Sylvie exchanged glances.

“I haven’t noticed,” he admitted.

“I’m hot all the time now,” Sylvie said, “what with this belly.”

“Oh, yes,” Frigga said, giving Sylvie’s obvious baby bump a quick glance. “I remember this stage. It’s like you have an oven attached to you, isn’t it?”

“Yes!” Sylvie said. “I wake up sweating, it’s ridiculous.”

Frigga took their jackets and led them to the sitting room, where Odin inhabited his usual, large chair. He got up to greet them, albeit with some difficulty.

“Good evening, good evening,” he told them, shaking their hands formally. Sylvie gave Loki a surprised look, which he ignored. He wouldn’t have known what to say, anyway.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Odinson,” Sylvie said politely.

Odin gave her a critical look, his steely eyes scanning her from top to bottom; she was wearing a lovely summer dress that Loki hadn’t seen before this evening, looking sweet and innocent. It was a good choice, especially since she was neither of those things. Odin, though, didn’t seem softened; his eyes scanned her entire body, pausing for a long moment on her round, protruding belly. Then, unsmiling, he moved his eyes back to her face.

“Sylvie, is it?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered, her eyebrows growing close together.

This isn’t good.

“Charmed, I’m sure,” Odin said coldly.

Loki and Frigga exchanged glances.

“Drinks?” Frigga asked cheerfully.

“None for me, thanks,” Sylvie said immediately.

“I know, dear,” Frigga said soothingly. “I made some fresh lemonade this afternoon, if you’d like.”

Loki ended up having a whiskey, like his father. Frigga, out of a sense of camaraderie probably, opted for lemonade as well. They all sat in the sitting room, where an awkward silence quickly descended upon them.  

“So,” Odin asked eventually. “What do you do, Sylvie?”

“I work at a store,” Sylvie said. “Mobius Adventure Store, have you heard of it?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Odin said coolly.

“Of course you have, dear,” Frigga said. “It’s down by the Starbucks drive-through, not far from Thor’s gym.”

“That’s right,” Sylvie said. “Thor comes by a lot, actually. He always needs new climbing gear, so…”

“Is that how the two of you met?” Odin asked.

“No, father, I met her while getting a birthday present for Thor,” Loki explained.

“Yeah,” Sylvie chimed in. “He got a really good axe.”

Loki gave her a radiant smile.

“Only the best for Thor,” he said.

Odin only said ‘hmm’ and sank back into silence.

Dinner didn’t fare much better. Although Frigga did her best to keep the conversation going, and Loki tried to help her as much as he could, Odin seemed fixated on Sylvie and on her relationship with his son.

Sylvie handled it valiantly, Loki had to admit, up until Odin asked directly “how far along are you, Sylvie?”

“Oh,” she said. “Um. 32 weeks,” she said, blushing furiously.

“So this,” Odin said, pointing at her belly, “has nothing to do with my son, I assume?”

Loki and Sylvie exchanged glances.

“Sylvie was already pregnant when we met,” Loki admitted.

“And I’m assuming you knew this?” Odin asked.

“I did, actually,” Loki replied, feeling his anger rising. “She told me before we started dating.”

“And you went along with it?” Odin asked. Loki couldn’t decide if he was surprised or disappointed.

“Is there a problem?” he asked, putting a calming hand on Sylvie’s knee. She looked like she was about to give Odin a piece of her mind, which was probably not the best idea right now.

“It just seems a bit fast, that’s all,” Odin said. “You two hardly know each other, but it seems that you’re about to embark on the family way.”

“Honey,” Frigga started, but Sylvie beat her to it.

“I don’t expect anything from Loki,” she told Odin. “We never said anything about him raising my baby, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Loki’s heart sank; he knew, of course, that she was telling the truth. It just hurt a little to know how little trust she had in him.

“And how is that going to work?” Odin asked. “You’re going to have a baby and you two think things are just going to stay as they are?”

Loki and Sylvie exchanged glances.

“We haven’t talked about it,” Sylvie admitted.

“I suspected as much,” Odin said sternly. “I’m sure my son means well, but this is a big obligation for a couple just starting their way. I’m not sure he’s ready for such a responsibility, to tell you the truth.”

“Hey!” Loki said, now really hurt. “You don’t know that.”

“I do, actually,” Odin said. “You are not ready to raise a family, especially with a woman you just met.”

“Who said anything about raising a family?!” Loki asked. “We’re only just…”

“Loki,” Frigga said warningly. Loki stopped talking and looked at Sylvie, who was pale except two red stains on her cheeks. She wasn’t looking at him.

“I think we should go,” Loki said quietly, standing up from his seat. Sylvie did the same, still refusing to look at him. “Thank you for dinner.”

“It was lovely knowing you,” Frigga tried to tell Sylvie on their way out; Sylvie, apparently at a loss for words, only gave back a weak nod. She walked out of the house quickly, slipping into Loki’s car without looking back.

Chapter Text

The ride back to her place was quiet. Sylvie stared out the window as they drove through peaceful neighborhoods, filled with beautiful family homes, their windows lit. Inside of them, presumably, were happy families, their smiles wide and white, their faces picture perfect. They would have mommies and daddies, sweet and cheerful children, dogs with shiny coats that never turned dirty.

She looked back at Loki, whose attention was on the road in front of him. He was frowning, seemingly deep in thought. He was still beautiful; now, after a few months together, even more so. For the hundredth time since they met she asked herself what this gorgeous, smart and charming man was doing with her.

It’s not that Sylvie thought she was ugly. No, she knew a pretty face when she saw one, and the face looking back from the mirror had always been pleasing enough; it was other things, more substantial things.

“He’s right, you know,” she said on impulse.

“What?” Loki asked. He sounded confused, like he was pulled out of some deep, dark thought, barely able to surface long enough to reply at all.

“You dad,” Sylvie explained.

Loki huffed.

“Don’t listen to him,” he said, dismissive and obviously angry. “He’s always sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Well, this time he may have a point,” she insisted. She was aiming to sound light, like she was simply having conversation, but a tiny break in her voice betrayed her; Loki gave her a quick, cautious look.

“About?”

“This,” she said. “Us.”

“What do you mean?” Loki asked, and edge of trepidation in his voice. He clearly didn’t like where this conversation was going. She couldn’t blame him. She didn’t, either.

She pushed through regardless.

This needs to be said.

“We don’t know what we’re doing,” She said quietly.

Loki gave a short, unconvincing laugh.

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

 “We are not ready for this,” Sylvie insisted. For some reason, she felt like she was sinking deeper and deeper into the soft leather seats of his car. “For a baby, I mean.”

“I don’t think that’s relevant, at this point,” Loki said with a huff.

“It is relevant,” Sylvie insisted. “The baby is coming whether we like it or not, and this…us…Loki, you know as well as I do that it will change everything.”

“That’s ok,” Loki said. “We’ll handle it. We said we’ll take it one day at a time, right?”

Sylvie sighed.

“Loki, you don’t have to do this,” she said.

He snuck a quick look at her, and his hands on the wheel were shaking. Sylvie remembered that he had a glass of whisky earlier that night and wondered if he was fit to drive.

“To do what?” he asked, “I want to be with you, baby or not.”

“But…” she sighed.

How do I put this?

“It’s not just about the baby,” she said eventually.

They arrived at her place and he parked the car, but neither of them made a move to leave. Loki killed the engine and turned to look at her. It was hard to make his eyes out in the dark, but his expression was clear nonetheless.

“What’s it about, then?” he asked carefully.

“You and me,” she said, “we come from completely different worlds.”

“The way I see it, there is just one world and we both seem to live in it,” he said, but she shook her head vehemently.

“No, no, don’t get all philosophical on me,” she said, feeling the anger rising in the back of her throat.

Good. I need anger to be able to handle this. Otherwise I’ll just start blubbering like someone squeezed a sponge.

Loki didn’t answer. He just looked at her, solemn.

“You know what I mean,” she said.

“Enlighten me.”

“See, you even talk like you came out of a fucking book!” she called, trying to harness her anger.

“What are you talking about?” He seemed genuinely perplexed.

“You…you grew up in a palace!” she said.

“It’s just a house,” he said dismissively.

“No, no, it’s a palace,” Sylvie insisted. “It has a sauna and a tennis court and…and…I bet it has a bowling alley in the basement or something.”

Loki shook his head.

“Nothing like that,” he said.

“What is it, then?”

“Just a game room,” he said.

“What, with board games?” she asked.

“There’s a pool table,” Loki admitted, “and foosball. And a target for darts.”

“I bet there’s a bar, too,” she said.

His silence was answer enough.

“See?” she said.

“So?” he asked. “It’s all just stuff, Sylvie. None of it matters.”

“Of course it matters,” she insisted. “You need to be with someone who…I don’t know, someone who went to a fancy college and has a city job and enough money to professionally cut her hair.”

Loki frowned.

“You don’t need someone like me, who grew up in a camper and never went to an actual school and spends her days selling fancy hiking shoes to tech-bros who’ll only ever use them once,” Sylvie continued, trying to convince herself as well as him.

What was I thinking, getting into this relationship anyway? We are completely wrong for each other!

“Admit it,” she finally said. “We’re too different. Even without this,” she gestured at her pregnant belly, “it would never work, in the long run.”

“Are you done?” Loki asked. He was angry too, sounding hurt and wounded. “Because I feel like I should have a say if we’re already planning my life.”

Sylvie stared at him.

“Everything you said, about us being different…” He took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll admit our childhoods were different.”

Understatement of the year.

“But we are not that different,” Loki continued. “All of it…the house, the pool, it’s all just…I had nothing to do with any of it, okay? It was an accident of birth. In a different universe, I could be the home-schooled wilderness expert and you the princess with a fancy college degree.”

Sylvie couldn’t help but laugh. What an absurd idea. She didn’t think she was a princess in any universe; that wasn’t her destiny. She was always meant to be of meager means, always moving from place to place searching for a home in vain.

“None of it matters, Sylvie,” Loki said softly. “You’re smart as a whip, much smarter than I am. I’d never survive five minutes in the apocalypse, while you’d probably take a week to become the leader of the human resistance.”

No, don’t smile, she berated herself. You need to stay focused.

“I feel so lucky to have met you,” he said, his heart in his eyes. “This past few months…they’ve been the best of my life. I don’t care what my father, or anybody else says. I want to be with you, baby or no baby.”

“No,” she said simply.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Loki asked, bewildered.

Sylvie took a deep breath.

“You are a romantic, and I love that,” she said. “I do. But this is real life, Loki, not a fairytale. Maybe under different circumstances, if…if we were younger, if there wasn’t this ticking time bomb above our relationship…maybe we could make it work. But like this, I don’t see it happening.”

“That’s nonsense,” Loki threw his hands up in frustration.

“No, that’s the truth,” Sylvie said.

Loki looked at her, his eyes suspiciously shiny. She felt terrible, but it had to be done.

 “You’re not ready,” she said. She was trying to look calm, determined, but her voice was breaking, her eyes burning with unshed tears. “A baby is a big responsibility. It’s my responsibility. I’m the one who needs to deal with it.”

“But I can help you,” Loki insisted, “I can…I can build the crib, and take the baby on walks…I’ll even change diapers! I want to do this, Sylvie, please…”

His voice broke. He was growing frantic, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke in the relative darkness of the car. Sylvie’s heart squeezed painfully, making it impossible to breath.

“No,” she said again. The walls of the car were closing in on her, her cheeks were burning. “I don’t want you to,” she lied. “I’m sorry I led you to believe otherwise. I’m not…I think that we should call this off, Loki.”

The tears started streaming down her cheeks. Loki looked like a puppy who’d been punched in the gut. She felt terrible.

“Call what off?” he asked. He was crying too, and it was all she could do not to reach for him and take him into her arms.

Be strong.

“This,” Sylvie said. “Us. I’m sorry I didn’t stop this sooner. We can’t raise a baby together, that’s insanity.”

“But I want to do this,” Loki said. “I want to raise this baby with you.”

He looked so genuine. She wanted to move her fingers one last time through his beautiful, black hair. She wanted to kiss his lips and cherish their warmth in the cold nights that were all her future held. She wanted to take it all back, to say that of course he could do this, of course they could do this.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t a liar.

Instead, she shook her head.

“You say that now,” she said, fighting to keep the tears under control, “but how do I know that when push comes to shove, you won’t leave me when things get too difficult?”

Loki stopped short. For an awkwardly long moment he just stared at her, as if he was seeing her properly for the first time.

“Is that what you think of me?” he asked, hurt. Then he huffed. “I should have known. You never trusted me, did you? Was this all just a game for you? Did you just need someone to carry your shopping for you, or…”

“Of course not!” she cut him off, scandalized. “It wasn’t like that. I like you, I really do, but I can’t let my feelings get in the way of reality! I’m having a baby, Loki.”

“Yes, I know, you mentioned it a couple of times,” he spat.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

She took a deep breath.

“We both know what the problem is, Loki,” she said, defeated. “This baby is mine, but it’s not yours. It will never be yours. We can’t keep pretending that it’s not going to be an issue.”

Loki shook his head.

“I don’t care about that,” he insisted. “I want to be with you, and I’ll love your baby all the same.”

Liar.

 “I’m sorry,” she said, because there was nothing else left to say. “I really am.”

“Sylvie…” he started, but she cut him off with a shake of her head. She reached for the handle and opened the door.

“Don’t do this, please,” he asked in a broken voice.

She realized she couldn’t answer, so she just got out of the car.

“Please, Sylvie,” Loki said. “Don’t…”

She slammed the car door shut.  Not looking back, she slowly walked into the building, sobbing now. Loki didn’t follow her. She didn’t really expect him too. It was a long time before he started the car. She made it all the way to her apartment and stood in the dark, looking at him through the half shut blinds.

For a long time, he just sat there, his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking. Sylvie didn’t dare move, or breath.

A strong kick startled her, no doubt bruising her ribs. Bear had woken up and was making his presence known. He kicked her again, hard, as if he was saying get back down there, you idiot.

She was going to. She almost did.

Before she could move, though, Loki turned on the engine and, with one last shake of his head, backed out of the parking space. Sylvie looked on as he drove into the night, and didn’t move even after his car had long disappeared behind a bend in the road.

She was alone again.

She guessed she always will be.

Chapter Text

A ray of sunlight shone right into his eyes, making him groan and turn away, annoyed. The bedroom was largely dark, the blinds drawn, but the sun had found the smallest crack between them, landing right where his face had been.

Figures.

The sun had no right to be this bright. The day had no right to be this cheerful. Loki pictured it with disdain: a deep, blue sky, so clear that it looked impossibly wide. Birds chirping on the treetops, people smiling at each other on the street, children laughing on their way to school.

Disgusting.

He hadn’t left his apartment for several days. For the last week or so, he’d called in sick every single day, trying to fake a raspy voice and telling them he had the flu. It helped that Odin was away somewhere, in some fancy CEO retreat in Aspen or whatever, Loki didn’t care to know the details. Luckily, Frigga had gone with him, and so he was free to ignore her phone calls without worrying she might suddenly appear at his doorstep unannounced.

For the first time since his college years, Loki was sorry that he didn’t live far away from home. He’d never even considered it, always set on getting into the company and proving worthy of inheriting it one day; now, as he laid inconsolable in bed, he wondered for the first time if it had been the right thing to do.

Maybe he should have rebelled, like Thor; found something he really liked doing, opened his own business. Except he wasn’t Thor. He wasn’t the perfect, golden child, the one who could do no wrong. He wasn’t a semi-famous rock climber, with a winning smile and likeable personality. No one had ever approached him with an offer to make him an underwear model (okay, that one was fishy and it was probably for the best that it didn’t pan out, but they could have at least offered).

Loki had to face it: growing up alongside Thor, walking the street by his side, had meant that he was always largely invisible. The little brother, dark and sullen. Emo, Sif had called him once, derisively, with an unhidden snort; that was what made him go for her in the first place, turn his charm on until she just couldn’t resist. He had to prove to her that he was more than Thor’s annoying little brother, who he and his friends could never quite get rid of.

It worked out, too. Sif did succumb to his charms, disappointingly easily actually, and by the way she writhed and screamed in his bed he didn’t think that she’d been disappointed. The problem was that he was never enough for her. He saw the way she looked at Thor, when she thought nobody was paying attention. Except Loki was always paying attention.

It doesn’t matter. It’s all in the past now.

For his father, too, he felt like some sort of consolation prize. His father could never mend things with Hela, for reasons Loki was always too young to understand. Hela was bitter, vindictive, always making it clear that she hated visiting her father and his new family. She would largely keep to her room, or sneak out at night with her scary, ‘problematic’ friends (as Frigga had called them. Odin had used more colorful terms, but only when he thought the children weren’t listening).

It wasn’t Loki’s fault that he was born with Hela’s face, a male version of the black sheep that gave his father so much grief and disappointment. It wasn’t his fault that he was a surprise baby, unplanned in a family that already saw itself as complete. Frigga always said that he was never a mistake, just a surprise. Odin, however, let him understand that in his eyes, Loki shouldn’t have been born at all.

Maybe I should have run away years ago.

He could still leave, if he wanted to. Find a good job somewhere else, far away from here, where his father wouldn’t have to see his face and be reminded of all the things he regretted but was powerless to change.

Nobody wants me here anyway.

Sylvie didn’t want him either, did she? He had offered to be there for her, wanted to more than anything. He was starting to get used to the idea of a baby, too, even though he didn’t admit it to himself at first.

Sylvie’s baby; a small, fragile thing in need of a father. Loki could have been there for him. He would have changed diapers and taken him on walks and, and, taught him to play baseball or something (okay, maybe not baseball; maybe riding a bicycle). Would have held on to his little hand while crossing the street.

Loki didn’t realize how much he wanted a family until the idea of it was dangled in front of him and then snatched away. He was thirty five years old; it was high time that he settled down. Except Sylvie didn’t want him there.

She never trusted me, he thought bitterly. I should have known. No one else ever did. Why should she be different?

He thought she was, at first. Hell, she was vastly different than anyone he’d ever met. All those women that he met in his day-to-day life, with their high heels and perfect hair, who always had identical, picture perfect smiles.  They would laugh politely at his jokes even when they didn’t understand them (most of them didn’t. He could tell).

Whenever he told Sylvie a bad joke, on the other hand, she would scowl, smack him and tell him to stop it. When he said something funny, though, she would laugh from her belly, snorting between bouts of giggles. Her mouth, far from perfect, was his favorite among her facial features. It was slightly lopsided, full of character, a perfect complement to her sharp, blue eyes.

She was beautiful and smart and real, with a vast knowledge of anything that took her fancy. He couldn’t believe that she thought he cared about trivialities like a college education when she could build her own bow and arrow and then feed herself using it. She had a way of looking at the world and really seeing it, not through a maze of words like everyone else he knew did.

Sylvie was amazing. Unfortunately, she had no use for him in her life.

His eyes filled with tears again.

Ugh. Not again. I thought I was done with crying.

A knock on the door startled him.

“Loki! Open up!”

Thor? What’s he doing here?

“We know you’re in there!”

Jane.

This must be some sort of intervention.

Actually, now that he was thinking about it, it occurred to him that he might be in need of one.

“Just a minute!” he called, his voice raspy from misuse, and valiantly dragged himself out of bed. Before he went to open the door he pulled some half decent pants on, and a t-shirt he found on the floor. A peek in the bathroom mirror confirmed that he looked like hell.

“We brought cookies!”

Jane again. Loki frowned. He didn’t even like cookies.

“Ok, ok, I’m coming,” he grumbled, and opened the door.

Thor and Jane froze when they saw him, standing with their mouths open like too dumb goats.

“Are you coming in or not?” he asked eventually, and they finally came in, mumbling greetings along the way. Thor went around the place, rudely opening all the blinds, while Jane placed the cookies on the kitchen island, looking around at the mess with an unsure look on her face.

Loki couldn’t help squinting a little; he wasn’t used to sunlight anymore.

“So,” Thor finished his assault on Loki’s dark, quiet man-cave and turned to him with a big, fake smile. “How are you doing, brother?”

“Peachy,” Loki grumbled. He figured that since he was already standing up, he might as well make himself some coffee. “Any of you want anything to drink? Coffee? Tea? Hard liquor?”

Thor and Jane exchanged glances.

“Tea for me, please,” Jane said politely.

“I only have Earl Grey,” Loki apologized.

“That’s ok.”

“I’d take some hard liquor, but it looks like you’ve drunk it all,” Thor tried for a joke.

“It’s in the usual place,” Loki said, not bothering with a smile. “Help yourself.”

“It’s three in the afternoon,” Jane told Thor warningly, and he ended up changing his order to a coffee.

“I’ll make it,” he told Loki. “You sit down.”

“I don’t trust you with my espresso machine,” Loki told him.

“Oh, please,” Thor retorted. “Which one of us was a barista in college? Now go, sit down before I make you.”

With a huff, Loki gave up, and went to sit next to Jane. Even sitting down, she was still comically shorter than him. Not for the first time, Loki wondered what it was she found in his brother.

Probably the biceps. Some women are into that sort of thing.

“Cookie?” Jane offered. “Don’t worry, I didn’t bake them.”

“That’s a relief,” Loki joked and took one out of politeness. It tasted like cardboard, but he suspected that had less to do with the cookie itself and more with his general mood.

“So I was at the store today…” Jane began. She didn’t elaborate which store, and Loki didn’t need to ask. He braced his shoulders, preparing for impact.

“I spoke with Sylvie,” Jane continued.

All his bracing did nothing. Her name hit his heart with the sting of a sword. Loki winced.

“You didn’t tell me you guys broke up,” Thor said gently, sitting down on the other side of the kitchen island.

“Yeah, well,” Loki said noncommittally. “It wasn’t really a mutual decision.”

“So I’ve heard,” Jane said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“Is that why you’ve been ignoring mom’s calls?” Thor asked. “She’s really frantic. Her whole ski-trip is ruined.”

Loki, to hide his feeling of guilt, simply shrugged.

“Didn’t know what to tell her,” he admitted.

“How about ‘my girlfriend dumped me and I’m a wreck’?” Thor suggested, earning a lethal glare from Jane.

Loki shrugged again.

“Did she say why?” Thor asked. “Sylvie, I mean.”

Loki shook his head.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s ok,” Jane said. “You don’t have to. We just wanted to check in on you, to make sure you’re alright.”

“I’m great,” Loki said, gracing her with a fake smile. “Never better.”

“I can see that,” Thor said. “I’m getting you a cleaning service. That is non-negotiable,” he added, when Loki was about to protest.

“You can come stay with us for a couple of days, if you like,” Jane offered timidly. Loki thought about it, being in Thor and Janes little cozy cottage, watching them making goo-goo eyes at each other day and night.

“That’s ok,” he refused politely.

“We are staying for dinner,” Thor informed him. “But don’t worry, we’ll get takeout.”

As much as he wanted to, Loki couldn’t stay mad at his brother. Especially as his biggest sin in the current situation was letting sunlight in (and making a surprisingly good cappuccino).

“Tomorrow you need to go to work,” Thor added, “or dad will come here to drag you there himself.”

“No he wouldn’t,” Loki huffed. Odin had never bothered visiting his apartment, even though it was a fricking walking distance from the office. Loki doubted the man even knew where he lived. “But point taken.”

“Go get a shower,” Jane said. “Thor and I will clean the Kitchen a bit, ok? This place is a pigsty.”

“No it’s not,” he protested weakly.

“Just go, will you? Jane’s sense of smell is heightened right now, I think if you don’t get a wash she’ll end up throwing up,” Thor said.

“I beg your pardon?” Loki asked, turning to look at Jane. To his surprise, she looked put on the spot, even guilty. Then, it dawned on him.

“You’re pregnant?” he asked Jane.

“Yeah,” she said weakly. “We weren’t going to tell you today, though,” she added, glaring daggers at Thor.

“Oh, right,” his oaf of a brother said. “Sorry.”

“That’s ok,” Loki said, pulling on a happy face with remarkable effort. “Congratulations,” he told Jane. “Wow, that’s…great news.”

“Thank you,” she said meekly.

“I’d, ah…I’d give you a hug, but I’d hate for you to throw up on this floor. It’s Brazilian Walnut,” he added, half joking.

Jane only nodded. He felt she was as relieved as he was to be spared that hug.

“Ok then, I’ll take that shower now. You guys feel at home. Mi casa su casa. I’m warning you though, the fridge may have some unrecognizable bits of evolved life in it.”

“Ew,” Jane said. “You’re cleaning that one, Thor.”

“Am not,” Thor said, waving his phone at her. “Emergency cleaning service. Brother, you better get dressed. We’ll go out to dinner while my cleaner and her team set this place straight.”

“Okay,” Loki said, too exhausted to argue. All he wanted was to close all the blinds again and curl right back into bed. Instead, he went into the shower in his bedroom, closing the door behind him silently. With the water running and half the apartment between them, he was fairly sure Thor and Jane won’t be able to hear his sobs.

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe you let that hunk go,” Darcy said in a whiny voice.

“Are we on this again?” Sylvie asked, impatient. It was getting hard to do her job properly. First of all, she couldn’t stand for long periods of time; whenever she did, her ankles would swell, making her shoes tight and painful. Not that she could see her feet at this point, but the sensation of pricks and needles was hint enough that she needed to put her feet up if she was interested in keeping them.

To her utter annoyance, she could no longer easily put on her boots, as her big belly was in the way. She had to opt for Crocs. Crocs! They were a hideous crocodile green, really the stuff of nightmares, but she could put them on without sitting down or using her hands, so that was a plus (the siting down part wasn't the actual problem; it was the getting up afterwards that was becoming harder).

Sylvie was also beginning to panic a little. Now that her mind was clear enough to think it over, she was extremely worried as to how she was supposed to be a sole breadwinner and raise a tiny baby at the same time. Mobius, always way kinder than he needed to be, told her she could take a few months unpaid leave and still get her job back at the end. It was an offer she had every intention of utilizing, but was also deeply frustrated that she lived in the only country in the developed world that had no mandatory maternity leave.

She was extremely worried that at the end of those few months, her meager savings will be gone, and she will have nothing to fall back on in case something unexpected happened. At least she managed to find childcare for Bear. There was an older lady in her neighborhood that had a group of toddlers and babies she was caring for; she told Sylvie she had a spot opening up for when Bear will be three months old.

So tiny.

Sylvie wasn’t thrilled about leaving a tiny baby in the care of a stranger, but then again, having a roof over your head and food on your plate was far from overrated. She wasn’t the only single mom in the world, and Bear would just be one of many kids whose moms had to work while they were very young.

That’s just how life is.

Loki would’ve helped, she knew (and hated herself for the thought). She didn’t want to think about his money, about the fact that whenever he came around to having kids (and isn’t it annoying that men can just do that at whichever age they choose?), those kids would lack nothing. Their mother, whoever she may be, will probably be some college educated fancy high management type (Sylvie couldn’t imagine Loki opting for a housewife). Their young prince or princess would probably have a nanny that would only talk to them in French and would cook them organic meals from scratch every single night.

She chuckled.

At least that I can do. Dinner you foraged yourself: doesn’t get much more organic than that.

She berated herself for even thinking about these things. She was aware other people had money, of course, but she hated thinking about it. She hated thinking about Loki like that. It never even entered her mind that he would come from money, even though it should’ve been glaringly obvious from the start.

For starters, he spoke like someone educated at the world’s best private school (and now that she thought about it, so did Thor, even though the brothers couldn’t have been more different otherwise). He was always wearing fancy clothes, understated but clearly expensive. He also had the unmistakable patina of someone who never lacked anything. Basically, he never talked about money.

While Sylvie fretted about the power bill and the price of gas and eggs, Loki seemed completely oblivious to those things. When he was cold, he turned on the heat. When he was hungry, he ordered whatever he felt like. The price of things was never even a consideration.

Sylvie, who always lived pretty hand-to-mouth, could hardly understand this way of thinking. And that’s probably why that particular difference between them only really hit her when she saw the house he grew up in. She has never been inside a fancier place, and his insistence that his house wasn’t extravagant but normal somehow just made it worse.

When his father started needling them about their situation, her first thought was he probably thinks I’m a gold digger. The thought repulsed her. She hadn’t dated Loki for his money, which hardly ever occurred to her until then. She dated Loki for Loki.

Once again, she felt a painful prick in her heart, like she was being stabbed. She hated that feeling. She was also mad at Darcy for bringing it all up again. Darcy had a husband who adored her, a cute kid, and was on her way to becoming a doctor of Astrophysics. She had no business rubbing Sylvie’s loneliness in her face like this.

She means well, she reminded herself. Unfortunately for her, it was pretty much impossible to dislike Darcy.

“I’m just saying,” Darcy continued, “he had one fine…”

“Darcy,” Mobius cut her off, impatient. “Don’t you have work to go back to? That dissertation won’t write itself!”

“Relax, Moe,” Darcy said, “I just went on a shake break and decided to check in on you guys.”

For emphasis, she took a large, noisy sip from her straw. Mobius rolled his eyes.

“You spill stuff on the floor, you wash it yourself,” he said warningly.

“Is this how to talk to costumers?” Darcy asked innocently.

“You didn’t buy anything in months,” Mobius said flatly. “You only come here to hang out with Sylvie.”

“Yeah, she’s my buddy,” Darcy said.

Sylvie raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“What, you are!” Darcy insisted. “I mean, now we’re not friends-in-law anymore, but we can still hang out.”

“That’s not a real thing,” Mobius said.

“Whatever,” Darcy shrugged.

Sylvie finished checking all the aisles and collapsed on her chair with a sigh.

“Here, put your feet up,” Darcy suggested.

“I can’t, I just cleaned this counter,” Sylvie said, “plus, if I put my feet up then I’ll see my shoes, and then I won’t sleep at night.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Darcy said. “They are awful.”

“Thanks,” Sylvie said drily.

Darcy grew serious, the ditsy façade she usually put on momentarily slipping.

“Why did you and Loki break up?” she asked. “You were so cute together. I was rooting for you guys.”

Sylvie sighed.

“We’re just not compatible, that’s all,” she said.

“Lame excuse,” Darcy pointed out. “I saw you at Jane’s wedding. You think no one noticed how the two of you were quoting Shakespeare at each other for half the night, but this girl did,” she said, pointing at herself.

Sylvie felt her cheeks growing warm. That Darcy was too perceptive.

Damn it.

 “My parents had a compilation of all of his works at the camper,” she said. “Sometimes we’d be driving for entire days and reading it was the only thing I had to do. And Loki’s minor was English Lit, so he obviously knows him too, so what?”

“They were quoting poetry at each-other?” Mobius asked Darcy, disbelieving.

“Worse,” Darcy said. “Hamlet.”

Mobius shook his head.

“Kids today,” he said.

“What?” Sylvie said, “we can’t all quote Shania Twain like Emily and you do.”

“It’s Loretta Lynn, Sylvie, get your country queens right,” Mobius said firmly.

“I love her song about the pill,” Darcy said.

“Yes, it’s a real banger,” Mobius agreed.

“Either way, it doesn’t matter,” Sylvie said, “because we’re not together anymore.”

“I still don’t understand what happened,” Mobius said gently.

“Loki doesn’t either,” Darcy pointed out, “at least from what Jane tells me.”

Sylvie’s heart contracted painfully again. Bear kicked, adding to the general agony. She wanted to strangle Darcy, but was too tired to stand up.

One day, my revenge will come, she thought to herself scornfully.

“How…?” she started to ask, and forced herself to stop.

Darcy understood anyway.

“He’s…getting better,” she said carefully. “He went back to work, at least. Thor and Jane had his apartment cleaned. His dad put him on this new project that’s supposedly keeping him occupied...” she trailed off. “I don’t know more than that,” she said apologetically. “But from the clues I have so far, I conclude that you were the one who dumped him.”

Sylvie nodded, solemn.

“I did,” she said.

“Why?” Darcy asked.

“That’s none of your business,” Sylvie said sternly, getting up with difficulty to help a group of costumers that just walked in. Afternoon rush hour had just begun, saving her from the uncomfortable conversation. By the time things calmed down a bit, Darcy was long gone.

Sylvie sat back down on her chair with a deep, tired sigh.

“Why don’t you go home early today?” Mobius suggested. “I can close up.”

“No, that’s ok,” she said, shaking her head. “I can do it. You should head home and have dinner with your family.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said.

You have a family. I don’t have anyone.

As if to remind her of his presence, Bear started wiggling.

Anyone except you, Bear.

“Alright,” Mobius said in defeat. “But I’m making you one last tea before I leave.”

“Then I’ll have to wash the cups,” Sylvie complained.

“Just leave them in the sink, you big crybaby,” Mobius said. “I can wash them in the morning.”

Sylvie nodded, grateful. Mobius returned from the back room, carrying two cups of scalding hot tea.

“So?” he said.

“What?” Sylvie asked, frowning suspiciously.

“Are you ever going to tell me what really happened with that guy?” Mobius asked.

“Why does everyone want to know?” Sylvie asked, exasperated.

“Because I’ve never seen you like this with anyone before,” Mobius said, “and I’ve seen a fair share of your lovers come and go over the years.”

“I only dated like three people in all the time I worked here, Mobius,” Sylvie pointed out.

“Yes, and you were always kind of lukewarm about them,” Mobius pointed out. “Loki, though…the first he laid eyes on you, I knew he liked you.”

“So?” Sylvie asked, slightly annoyed. “Doesn’t mean that I have to like him.”

“No,” Mobius agreed, “but you do.”

Sylvie said nothing.

“Come on, Sylvie,” Mobius said, “whenever he came in here, your face would light up. I’ve never seen you like this before. Him too. It was like the two of you were meant to be, or something.”

“Please,” Sylvie scoffed. “Nobody is meant to be. Especially not Loki and me.”

“Why not?” Mobius asked gently.

Sylvie sighed.

“We’re just…so different. I don’t know. He’s a prince and I’m…”

“A survivor?” Mobius asked.

“Not a princess,” Sylvie said with a bitter chuckle.

“That’s just background noise,” Mobius pointed out. “If you’re compatible, none of it matters.”

“Of course it matters,” Sylvie insisted, “even if in this case it wasn’t the main problem.”

“And what’s that?” Mobius asked.

Sylvie gestured at her huge belly with an expression that said ‘here’s your clue, Sherlock!’

“Oh,” Mobius said.

“Yeah,” Sylvie agreed. “In a few short weeks I will have a baby, and Loki didn’t sign up for that.”

“He kind of did, when he started dating you,” Mobius pointed out. “You did tell him, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Sylvie said.

“And did he mind?” Mobius asked.

“He said he didn’t…” Sylvie admitted. Then, frowning, added “but of course he did, Mobius. Wouldn’t you?”

Mobius sighed.

“I would,” he admitted.

“It’s just…with the baby coming, I wasn’t sure where Loki would fit in,” Sylvie said quietly. “I didn’t want him to feel obligated, and I can’t just throw a baby on him that he didn’t ask for…”

“Things like that happen, though,” Mobius pointed out. “People have unplanned babies all the time.”

“Yeah, but not like this,” Sylvie said. “This baby was planned, just not by him,” she said. “It’s not even his. I can’t expect him to help raise it, now can I?”

Mobius said nothing, which Sylvie took as silent agreement.

“And if he’s with me, and I’m raising a baby, but he isn’t…how does that even work?” she continued.

“I don’t know,” Mobius said in defeat.

They sat together silently for a while, each in their own thoughts.

“I will tell you something, though,” Mobius said. “That boy was crazy about you. He probably would’ve loved to help you raise your baby, if you only just let him.”

“Well I guess we’ll never know now, would we?” Sylvie asked in annoyance.

“I guess not,” Mobius said, looking thoughtfully into his tea.

Chapter Text

When Loki arrived at the old barn, he found Frigga on a ladder, working on her new statue. She was balanced precariously on one leg, holding unto one branch of the giant tree with one hand and polishing another branch with the other.

“Hello, mother,” he said, and she turned around briefly and said “just a moment, darling. I’ll be right down.”

While she was finishing up, Loki looked around. The studio looked almost identical to how he remembered it. Loki smiled to himself. Despite his mother’s frequently reminding them all that it was important to be tidy if they ever wanted to get anything done, her own work space was usually a mess.  Most of the space was bare, used for the making of Frigga’s larger creations. Off to the side there was a work table dedicated for smaller projects. The entire back wall was lined with shelves, loaded to the point of collapsing with art materials, tools and abandoned half-finished projects.

At the end of the room was the old sitting corner, where he and Thor use to spend many hours as kids. There was an ancient rug and two dusty old couches. A cabinet holding toys and board games that haven’t been played with for years was used to separate the space from the main room. When he lived at home, Loki used to come out here to read, sitting down on the soft puffy chair while his mother worked. They rarely spoke, each lost in their own world, but they always enjoyed an easy companionship.

Loki went to the chair and sat down, regretting it immediately as a cloud of wood dust rose all around him. He stood back up, coughing, patting himself down to get rid of the dust, to no avail. Frigga, distracted from her work, looked back and gave a surprised laugh.

“Oh, darling,” she said. “That chair hadn’t been cleaned in ages.”

“Now you tell me,” Loki grumbled.

“Sorry,” Frigga said. Pulling herself back from her precarious position, she climbed carefully down the ladder. Seeing her, it suddenly dawn on Loki that she had gotten much older. For the first time in his life he found himself worrying that she might fall and get hurt. She spent so many hours alone in the house, or out by herself in the old barn. She usually didn’t have her phone with her, because she found it to be an unnecessary distraction. He considered suggesting a panic button, but thought better of it. His mother wasn’t that old.

“What do you think?” Frigga asked, gesturing at the statue. Loki examined it closely. It was a magnificent thing, a giant tree all comprised from ropes entangled around other ropes. They were spread out at the bottom, giving the impression of roots, and then coiled together to create a massive trunk, spreading out again higher to create the branches and the canopy.

“Magnificent,” Loki said truthfully. “What do you call it?”

“Life,” Frigga said simply.

“Why life?” he wondered.

“The coils are the probabilities,” Frigga explained. “They’re everything that could, did or would happen. They come together to create something beautiful, but in the end they separate and go their own way,” she said philosophically.

“That’s poetic,” Loki said. “You made the tree of life, then?”

Frigga laughed. “I guess I did,” she said. “And I made it out of wood. That’s a meta joke.”

“How do you know what ‘meta’ is?” Loki asked, surprised.

She rolled her eyes.

“I watch Youtube.”

Loki laughed.

“Of course.”

“So,” Frigga said, throwing down the towel she’d been using to wipe down her hands. “How about we go and have some tea? Your father is busy with some things in his office.”

“That’s ok, I came to see you,” Loki said. “I see father every day at work anyway.”

“That’s true,” Frigga said. “So I get you all to myself on the weekends.”

“I don’t think father would put up much of a fight,” Loki said dismissively.

“That’s not true,” Frigga said, growing serious. “He loves spending time with you.”

“Does he?” Loki asked dryly. “Because he definitely doesn’t give me that impression.”

Frigga rolled her eyes.

“You’re always so dramatic,” she said, making Loki chuckle. “He does love you, you know. He just has no idea how to talk about feelings. He was raised to believe men don’t show emotions.”

“Who taught him that?” Loki asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Everyone,” Frigga said, and sighed. “It was a different time.”

“Well, he’s always criticizing my work, telling me he expects better of me,” Loki said, unconsciously imitating his father’s diction.

“Well, he does expect more from you,” Frigga pointed out. “He holds you in high regard.”

“Does he?” Loki asked again, unable to hide the edge of pain in his voice. “Because it sure didn’t sound like it when he was talking to Sylvie the other night.”

Frigga stopped walking, making Loki stop as well. For a moment she just looked at him, her eyes an infinite well of warmth and understanding. He didn’t like it. He resented it.

“He’s just trying to look out for you,” Frigga said eventually, not sounding convinced herself. “He thought you two were rushing things way too fast, what with her baby on the way…”

“He told her that I won’t be there for her,” Loki said, bitter now. “That she cannot trust me. He basically told her she better break up with me, which she then did. It’s going to be hard for me to forget or forgive that, mother.”

Frigga nodded. “I understand that,” she said, “and if it’s any consolation, he got an earful from me that night.”

Loki quirked his eyebrow, looking at her quizzically.

“I saw how you looked at that girl, Loki,” Frigga said softly. “You were staring at her as if she was the sun.”

“You can’t stare at the sun,” Loki pointed out.

“Well, I guess it’s a bad metaphor then,” Frigga said. “But I could see you care about her very much. I’ve never seen you look like that at anyone before.”

“I made a point of hiding my romantic escapades from you, you know,” Loki said, hands in his pockets.

“Oh, I know,” Frigga said dismissively, “but you did a half-assed job of it. Yes, I know there have been several young men and women who came and went over the years, but none of them ever held your fancy for long, did they?”

Loki shook his head.

“Sylvie, though,” Frigga continued, “she means a great deal to you, doesn’t she?”

Loki nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

“What makes her special?” Frigga asked.

“What does it matter?” Loki asked. “It’s over.”

“Of course it matters,” Frigga said, “because it’s clearly not over, as far as you’re concerned at least, and it wouldn’t hurt you to acknowledge that.”

“It might,” Loki pointed out. Frigga just gave him a flat look.

“So?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Loki admitted. “It’s…everything about her, actually. She’s beautiful, she’s funny, she’s smart…she’s definitely the most resourceful person I’ve ever met. Did you know that she survived for months alone in the wilderness before she turned 18? I don’t think I would’ve made it through the weekend. She just built shelter and taught herself to hunt and gather.”

“She sounds special,” Frigga said.

“Oh, yeah,” Loki said, chuckling. “And you didn’t even hear about the time she hid out a storm in a hollow tree only to discover there was a family of coyotes living there.”

“And what happened?” Frigga asked.

“Nothing,” Loki admitted. “Sylvie said that she just sat quietly on one side of the tree, and mama coyote and her cubs were on the other side, and they all sat there looking at each other until the rain stopped, and then…” he trailed off, smiling.

“Then what?” Frigga asked.

“Then she thanked the coyotes for letting her share their home, and left,” Loki said.

Renewed admiration for Sylvie blossomed in his heart, and it hurt more that he was willing to admit. Why was his mother putting him through this?

“I don’t know if that was brave or stupid,” Frigga admitted.

“Sylvie would probably say it was neither,” Loki explained. “She would say that she didn’t have a choice.”

“Of course she had a choice,” Frigga pointed out. “She could go into the system, let other people care for her.”

“Well, she told me she promised her mother she wouldn’t,” Loki said, “but I think it’s more than that. I think Sylvie just didn’t trust anyone enough to let them take care of her.”

He frowned.

“She probably still doesn’t,” Frigga pointed out.

“Yeah,” Loki shrugged, once, and buried his head between his shoulders.

“Is that why she let you go, you think?” Frigga asked gently. “She didn’t trust that you would be there for her when she had her baby?”

“Well, how could she,” Loki asked, bitter again, “when my own father told her she shouldn’t?”

“Your father did cross the line there, and I told him as much,” Frigga said. “I know my son. I know that when you put your mind to something, nothing will stop you from getting what you want. Over the years I’ve watched as you worked to get the best grades, the best education and the best opportunities. I’ve seen how well you do in the company.”

“How would you know that?” Loki asked.

Frigga rolled her eyes.

“You father boasts about you all the time,” she said. “You should hear him when his with his golf buddies. He can’t stop praising your name. He told me recently that he intends for you to inherit the company after him, and that he’s sure you’ll make a remarkable job.”

Loki’s eyes filled with tears, which he tried and failed to suppress.

“He said all that?” he asked, his voice choked.

“Yes,” Frigga said. “He did. He’s very proud of you, Loki.”

“Then why didn’t he ever tell me himself?” Loki asked, petulant.

“He’s no better at expressing himself than you are,” Frigga huffed. “It is my destiny to be surrounded by emotionally stunted men.”

“We’re still better then Hela,” Loki pointed out.

“Hela is a special case,” Frigga said. “She never quite forgave me for not being her mother. But it’s all in the past now. She wrote us a letter recently, apologizing for how she behaved as a teenager. Apparently she’s married with children now. Your father is flying out to meet her next week.”

Loki stared at her.

“That is astonishing news,” he said. “You should have opened with that.”

“I had more important things to discuss with you,” Frigga said. “Like Sylvie, and what you’re going to do about her.”

“What is there to do?” Loki asked. “She made her point clear.”

Frigga gave him a stern look.

“Do you want her back, Loki?”

“Yes,” he said immediately, before he could think it over. “Yes, I do.”

“And if you get her back, do you intend to be there for her and her baby?” Frigga asked. “Because that’s probably the main point of contention for her.”

Loki paused, thoughtful.

“Would that bother you?” he asked. “Me raising a baby that isn’t your grandchild?”

Frigga shook her head.

“No,” she said, “of course not. When I married your father, I knew he already had a child, and was willing to take that responsibility on. Truth is, I wanted a relationship with Hela, she was the one who couldn’t accept me…if you and Sylvie have a good thing, and that good thing happens to come with a child, than in my book that is a bonus. I think it’s high time you started a family anyway, don’t you? You’re not getting any younger.”

Loki frowned, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.

“What do I do?” he asked finally. “About Sylvie?”

“You go talk to her, dummy,” Frigga said, exasperated.

“About what?”

“About your feelings,” Frigga explained, slowly, as if to a child. “Do I need to make you reference cards for that conversation?”

Loki laughed.

“No.”

“Good,” Frigga said. “Now let’s go get that tea. We’ve been stuck out here in the yard talking for at least half an hour. My legs are killing me. I’m not getting any younger either, you know.”

“Yes, mother,” Loki said, still laughing, and the two of them entered the kitchen at last.

Chapter Text

It took Loki a few days to gather enough courage to go talk to Sylvie. Not only did he not know what to say, he also wasn’t sure when and where to say it. At first he thought to look for her at work, but he didn’t want to put her on the spot in such a public setting. Then he considered waiting for her at her usual morning run route, but felt like that would be somewhat stalkery of him.

Eventually he decided to just head over to her place after work and wait for her to return home. He did ask Mobius when she was getting off (the old man told him to man-up and just call her, which he would’ve done had he been sure that she would answer). And so, on a Thursday evening in the fall, Sylvie returned from work to find him sitting on her stairs.

When she saw him her legs stopped walking of their own accord, and she just stood for a moment looking at him. He scrambled to his feet when he saw her, looking nervous and scared and…and hopeful. Sylvie looked up at him silently. For once, her head was completely blank, empty of thoughts. Their eyes met and she felt, oddly, perfectly serene.

Loki stared at Sylvie in awe. He hadn’t seen her in a few weeks, and she had grown much bigger than he saw her last. Her belly was now large and round, and she had that distinct late-pregnancy waddle to her walk. Her hair was long and lush, falling on her shoulders in golden-brown waves. In her eyes he saw peace, and promise.

He took a deep breath.

“Hi,” he said.

Sylvie nodded.

“Hi,” she answered.

“I was wondering if, uh…um…” he trailed off, shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot.

“Yes?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. She fought the urge to cross her arms and tap her foot.

“Can we talk?” Loki asked, hopeful.

Sylvie nodded again.

“Come inside,” she said, “I’m dying to sit down.”

He let her climb the stairs past him and followed her into her apartment, keeping a respectful distance. He watched without comment as she struggled with the lock, kicking the door once before she managed to open it. Her fingers were shaking, and Loki suppressed a smile.

“Can you make tea?” she asked him, throwing her backpack carelessly on the floor and dropping into the nearest chair. “My feet are killing me. If I don’t put them up immediately when I get home they just stay swollen for hours.”

Curious, Loki looked to check what she was talking about. She dropped a hideous pair of green Crocs and propped her feet up. They were swollen from ankle to shin, and she struggled with her belly in an effort to take off her socks.

“Do you need help with that?” Loki asked quietly, deciding it would be wiser not to comment about her choice of footwear. Sylvie gave him a skeptical look, struggled a bit more, and eventually gave up with a sigh.

“Yes, please,” she said, and gasped in relief as he crouched down and peeled the socks from off her aching feet. “It’s hard to get around this huge belly.”

“You’ve grown bigger,” Loki pointed out, though without looking at her. Instead, he was pretending to be extremely focused on her socks, which he took to the laundry hamper.

Sylvie gave a huff of laughter.

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No,” he smiled, sheepish. “You look beautiful.”

This pulled her back into reality, and her heart started hammering in her chest.

“Why did you come here?” Sylvie asked.

“I want to talk to you,” Loki said.

“What about?”

“Us,” he said simply. Sylvie said nothing, mostly because her heart was beating so fast it was about to burst, but also because all the excitement made Bear start a complicated Capoeira routine inside her body.

Loki, who wasn’t sure if her silence was encouraging or not, decided it was better to say his piece while she still let him.

“Listen, Sylvie,” he opened, “I’ve been thinking a lot about everything you’ve said, about us, and the baby, and how you don’t think that I’m ready, but I really want you to know that I am, I am ready and I want to be there for you and your baby, I really do, and if you could just…”

He was still talking, but Sylvie wasn’t listening. Instead, she was looking at his face as he spoke; how his red lips moved with his words and his cheeks turned pink with excitement; how his hair was falling on his forehead, black curls that were shifting and jumping with his quirky movements as he walked nervously around the room. He was waving his arms in expressive gestures, as he always did when he was speaking, and Sylvie was transfixed by their fluid motion.

He moves like a dancer, she idly thought. Really, so graceful. How does he do that? Is it natural or did he spend years perfecting that panther-like walk?

She was too preoccupied to notice that Loki had stopped talking, and was instead standing there looking at her expectantly.

“Well?” Loki asked. “What do you think?”

She blushed furiously.

“About what?” she asked, taken aback.

Loki tilted his head and put his hands on his hips, a picture of amused exasperation.

“You didn’t hear a single word of that whole speech, did you?” he asked.

“I heard some,” Sylvie protested weakly, “at the beginning.”

Loki huffed.

“Ok,” he said. “Let’s start over, shall we?”

Sylvie nodded. “Sure.”

“What would you like in your tea?” Loki asked.

“Just White Micromeria,” Sylvie said, and to his questioning glare explained “it’s the one over there, with the small light leaves. It smells like heaven.”

“It does,” Loki said. “I didn’t see this one before.”

“Well, I can’t drink Sage because it’ll dry my milk apparently, and Mint gives me heartburn, so I got this one. The nursery guy said it grows near the Mediterranean Sea, so drinking it makes me feel fancy.”

Loki smiled, handing her a steaming mug.

“There you go,” he said.

“Thank you.”

She took a sip and closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the drink spread through her body. Or maybe it wasn’t the drink. Maybe it was the company.

“So,” Loki said, “how much of what I said did you hear?”

She smiled sheepishly.

“Just the part where you said you think you’re ready for a baby,” she admitted.

He laughed quietly.

“Yeah, I figured that part might come through.”

“Did you mean it?” she asked carefully, “or are you just saying it to get back in my pants?”

“I mean, of course I’d love to be back in your pants…” Loki said, and laughed when she smacked him, “but yes. I meant it.”

He sounded so sure, but Sylvie still didn’t know if she should believe him.

I better tread carefully, she thought.

“You say it now,” she said, “but will you still think that when Bear is born, and there’ll be crying and poopy diapers and sleepless nights and colic?”

Loki frowned.

“What’s colic?” he asked, unsure.

“Apparently it’s when their digestive system isn’t mature enough and they get terrible stomach aches and scream without stopping for about three months,” Sylvie said.

Loki winced. “Sounds lovely. I see you’ve been doing some reading finally.”

“Yeah,” Sylvie said, shrugging. “It turns out that pregnancy books didn’t interest me very much, but baby books are okay. Sort of.”

Loki nodded.

“To your question, than yes. I am ready. It might be hard, and smelly, and I’ll probably get stuff on my hands that nobody ever wanted to touch, but I’ll gladly do it for Bear, because he’s yours. And I love you,” he added casually.

Sylvie’s eyes filled with tears.

“You do?” she asked, choking up.

Pull yourself together, woman, she berated herself. You’re an affront to feminism.

Instead of helping, the thought made her start crying.

“I’m sorry,” she said, trying to control her pathetic sniveling, “it just happens out of nowhere now. I think it’s hormones or something.”

Loki took her into his arms, holding her close to his heart. She let herself be held, resting her face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in.

“And I don’t know what the future would bring,” Loki continued, his hand drawing large circles on her back, “but I want you to be in mine. You and Bear.”

“Why?” Sylvie asked, still unable to believe it.

“You really aren’t listening, are you?” Loki said, amused. “I love you. I fell so hard for you that I’m surprise I didn’t break a bone.”

“That’s a dad joke,” Sylvie pointed out, her voice muffled by his shirt.

“You see?” Loki asked, “I am ready.”

Sylvie started laughing.

“Tell me another one,” she asked.

“I can’t,” Loki said. “Inspiration needs to hit. You can’t rush art.”

“I have one,” Sylvie said. “Actually it isn’t mine, it’s Darcy’s.”

“Jane’s student?” Loki asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” Sylvie said. “We’re friends. I think? I mean, she comes by the store all the time now just to hang out, and she’s pretty fun, so…”

“Look at you,” Loki said, planting a kiss on her head. “All grown up and having fun with your friends.”

Sylvie laughed. “Shut up,” she said.

“Ok,” Loki said, though he couldn’t stop the smile. “So? What’s the joke?”

“We were talking about you,” Sylvie said, “actually, she was, she was trying to figure out why I dumped you.”

“Ouch,” Loki said.

“I’m not finished. So we were talking about you, and she said ‘he has the hands of a pianist who could play your private organs’.”

“What?” Loki asked, laughing. “What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know!” Sylvie admitted. “That Darcy likes your hands?”

“Well, I do moisturize them regularly,” Loki said seriously. “Having clean, presentable hands is a must in the corporate world.”

Sylvie snorted.

“What do you even do?” She asked. “In your work, I mean.”

“I’m vice president of sales and acquisition,” Loki said.

“But what do you do?” Sylvie asked.

“I sell things…and acquire things,” Loki said. “Well, my teams do that, I only handle the bigger things personally.”

“But what does your company do?” Sylvie asked, confused.

“All sorts of things,” Loki said. “It’s more of a conglomerate, really. We own a bunch of companies that make a bunch of things, and then we make a profit out of all those things.”

“That sounds really boring,” Sylvie said, good-natured.

“I like it,” Loki admitted. “Does it make you think less of me?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I mean, you have a snake and you know your way around knives, so you can’t be that bad.”

He laughed.

“I guess not,” he said. “I’m glad I at least have some redeeming qualities in your eyes.”

“You have many,” Sylvie said. “You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re kind, you’re very handsome,” she waggled her eyebrows at him. “You’re a good man, Loki. I’m lucky to have met you.”

“Really?” Loki asked.

Sylvie nodded.

“So does this mean you will take me back?” Loki asked, hopeful.

Sylvie nodded and pressed deeper into his arms.

“I already did,” she said. “Pay attention.”

“Oh,” Loki said. “Ok. Great.”

“Will you do me a favor though?” Sylvie asked.

“Anything,” Loki said.

“In the mornings, will you help me put on my shoes?” Sylvie asked. “These Crocs are hideous, but I can’t put on other shoes because I can hardly reach my feet anymore.”

“Yeah,” Loki said, holding her tight. “I can do that.”

“Thank you.”

“I see you didn’t organize the nursery yet,” Loki said.

“What nursery?” Sylvie asked. “This is a one bedroom apartment.”

“Well, the baby corner in the bedroom,” Loki said. “Do you need help with that, too?”

“Yes please.”

“And your shopping?” he added. “Food, groceries? I can help you carry those if you like.”

“Ok.”

They sat together in silence for a while, his arm around her shoulder and her head in the crook of his neck.

“One more thing,” Sylvie asked. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but…will you be with me for the delivery? You don’t have to look when things get…graphic, but…I don’t want to go through it alone.”

Loki’s heart swelled, and he kissed her temple.

“Of course,” he said. “It would be an honor.”

“Thank you,” Sylvie said, and closed her eyes. She finally felt like she was coming home, and she could rest at long last.

Chapter Text

Sylvie was nearing her due date, with the delivery expected any day now. She still wasn’t very well read on pregnancy matters, but she knew enough not to expect anything overly dramatic. Dr. Willis, Emily and Darcy all cautioned her that the movie version of childbirth has little to do with reality.

“Don’t you just love how it happens in the movies?” Darcy asked, taking a noisy sip from her fruit shake and earning a reproachful glare from Mobius. “I mean, it always looks the same, right? Our heroine is dressed in her finest evening gown, gracefully gliding on her impossibly high stiletto heels, you know, going to the prom or something, when suddenly…gush! Her water breaks, flooding the floor and completely destroying her new Manolos. Next thing you know, they’re all rushing to the hospital and she’s screaming at the top of her lungs that the baby is coming right now, and they must hurry so it won’t slide out in the Uber or something.”

“Yeah,” Mobius chimed in, “and then they’re in the delivery room, she’s flat on her back screaming at her husband ‘I hate you! You did this to me!’ as if painkillers were never invented.”

The two women looked at him, silently judging him.

“What?” Mobius said. “I’ve been to my children’s deliveries. I mean, you can choose to do it naturally and kudos to you, but epidural is a thing, you know.”

“I wanted to do it naturally,” Darcy confessed. “I had a doula, a birthing plan, the whole shebang.”

“And then what happened?” Sylvie asked.

“Well, then I realized it really, really hurt and I begged them for mercy. Which they supplied, which helped me have the baby without losing my mind. I did lose control of my right leg, though. Poor Howard couldn’t hold my hand while I was having Birdy because he was too busy holding my leg! True story,” she added, punctuating with another sip from her drink.

“My cousin was the complete opposite, you know,” she said. “She was really afraid of the pain and had every intention of getting the drugs, but ended up having a really easy delivery without any pain relief at all. You never know,” she said philosophically.

Sylvie took all of this to heart, and decided to hope for the best (an easy, natural and pain free delivery) and expect the worst (amniotic fluid gushing all over the floor of the store during rush hour).

As it was, it started with contractions.  Sylvie, who at 39 weeks had already experienced many Braxton-Hicks contractions, simply ignored them at first. As usual for the semi-contractions of the past weeks, these also came and went; but eventually a painful one hit, and it dawned on her that she might be having a baby today.

The first contractions were fairly spaced apart, painful but not overly so; more like cramps than anything else. Sylvie, being a woman, was well practiced in the art of behaving normally while your cramps were killing you, and didn’t show any outward signs that anything out of the usual was happening.

Even Mobius, who was annoyingly perceptive, took an unusually long time to figure out what was going on. He must have noticed her wincing and holding onto a shelf when she thought no one was looking. At any rate, he told her to take the rest of the day off.

“And Sylvie,” he added, “don’t come back until after you’ve had the baby, okay? I’d hate to force Casey to clean blood and guts off the floor.”

“Who said I was having a baby?” Sylvie asked, defiant.

A costumer who overheard, a little old lady, just gave her a once-over and snorted.

“Honey,” she said, “a blind person could see that you are.”

“Thanks, Rose,” Sylvie huffed.

“Go on,” Mobius said, all but pushing her out the door. “Go home and call Loki, ok?”

Sylvie nodded and left, not before she gave him a hug.

“Keep me updated,” he asked.

“I might be busy,” she answered. “I’ll ask Loki, though.”

Not wanting to interrupt Loki during his workday, Sylvie drove herself home, breathing trough the contractions like she learned from a Youtube video Loki made her watch. She didn’t feel like it was helping much, but it did get her mind off things (which she assumed was the point).

At home she took a hot shower, put on cozy clothes and ate whatever she found in the fridge (old pizza. She wasn’t big on cooking herself these days) and sat down to watch a movie, trying to distract herself. After a few more contractions hit, she remembered she read somewhere that walking around will help speed things up. She wasn’t sure she wanted that, as it was, so she remained seated for a few more minutes.

The contractions were growing longer, and closer together. She wasn’t timing them yet, mostly because she felt they were too far apart to bother, but also because she was too antsy to handle her phone. To her surprise, she realized she had been pacing back and forth in the living room for the last few minutes, unable to stay still for some reason.

The movie annoyed her, and she found it hard to follow, so she turned it off and put on some music. However, she found it grating. Sigur Rós, which the internet swore by, was too slow for her liking; she decided to change tack and put Skunk Anansi on, but it was too loud. She tried Joni Mitchel, even joining in with some of the songs, until she couldn’t stand the sound of her own, or anyone else’s, singing voice and she turned the music off.

The contractions were getting worse, and Sylvie couldn’t stop walking around. Breathing through the pain didn’t help. Calling out seemed too dramatic, so she ended up biting her tongue a lot.

Where is Loki?

The sun had set already and the sky outside the apartment was a deep Cobalt blue. Sylvie walked around, humming to herself, swearing with every contraction and wondering how long this will take.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t handle the pain, it’s that she found it extremely annoying for some reason. Perhaps she was a little scared, she mused. It was, after all, a new experience for her.

Another contraction hit, stronger this time, and she couldn’t help but fold in half and call out.

Where is Loki?!

When she heard the key turn in the lock, she gasped in relief. Loki walked in, dressed in a slightly wrinkled but otherwise dashing grey suit. When he noticed Sylvie, he stopped in his tracks.

“What’s going on?” he asked. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Sylvie said, wincing through another contraction. “I’m great. I’m aaahh!”

Loki was by her side in an instant. He was looking at her face, then down at her belly and back to her face.

“It’s happening, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Sylvie said. “I need to…will you…”

She stopped talking, winced, swore, and took a deep breath.

“What?” Loki asked, confused.

“I need you to time the contractions,” she said.

“Ok,” Loki nodded, getting hold of his phone. “Just tell me when the next one starts.”

The contractions turned out to be about 45 seconds long and three minutes apart, which led Sylvie to believe she still has some time until she’ll need to leave for the hospital. As such, she kept walking around restlessly, while Loki hastily showered, changed and made sure her hospital bag had everything she needed in it.

A few more hours passed before the contractions reached the length of one minute, which was what Google said they should be when they left for the hospital. Loki was holding the bag and tried to support Sylvie, who swatted his hand away.

She couldn’t stand being touched right now.

The car ride was surprisingly nice, the vibrations of the drive managing to help with the pain in a way that breathing and a hot shower did not. Still, when they got to the front door and Sylvie waddled in while Loki went looking for parking, tears were streaming down her face.

“What are you here for today, ma’am?” asked the man at the front desk, even though she was wearing fuzzy house socks and cow print pajamas, and had a huge pregnant belly and a face full of snot.

“I’m here for a tummy tuck,” she said, only to be met with a blank stare.

“I’m having a baby,” she sighed, defeated.

“Second floor,” the man said. “Just keep walking to the elevators, they’ll check you in inside the maternity center.”

Loki found her in the delivery room, walking around, swearing and answering an endless string of questions like what was her address, insurance and even blood type. Sylvie was sure they were supposed to have all this information already, since she pre-registered, and she wasn’t entirely sure she didn’t end up swearing at the nurse at some point.

It took forever, but eventually Sylvie was in bed, wearing a hospital gown, with a blessed epidural inserted into her lower back. It should have been scary and uncomfortable, but after hours of contractions Sylvie was so relieved to be rid of the pain that she simply didn’t care. She just hoped she’d be able to move her legs when the time came, though.

“You’re six centimeters dilated,” the nurse said, “with good contractions. You still have time, so try to rest now while you can.”

Sylvie obliged, closing her eyes in relief. But she didn’t sleep. She held out her hand to Loki, who was sitting next to her. He took it, his fingers interlacing with hers.

“How are you feeling?” he asked again.

“Better,” she said. “I was beginning to lose my mind.”

“You look beautiful,” Loki said. “I just want you to know that.”

Sylvie laughed.

“My hair’s a mess and I’m wearing the ugliest gown in existence,” she said.

“You’d look good wearing a burlap sack,” Loki said.

Sylvie rolled her eyes. She did feel better, though. Being free of the pain was such a relief that she felt like laughing.

“How was your day?” she asked him.

“Fine,” Loki said, shrugging. “My father is still mostly avoiding me, but it’s actually made my work days better, if you believe that. I’m much more productive without him breathing down my neck all the time.”

“He’s still mad at you because of me?” Sylvie asked.

Loki shrugged again.

“He doesn’t do well with change,” he said. “He’ll come around.”

Sylvie nodded. They spent some more time talking about this and that, as if this was a completely normal night at home and not a hospital in which she was about to be having a baby.

“You know, I understand why movies don’t show what delivery is really like,” she said. “It’s kind of boring, isn’t it?”

Loki laughed.

“I think it’s exciting,” he said. “Plus, seeing you tear that poor nurse apart with your potty mouth was invigorating.”

“I was in pain,” Sylvie said, sulking. “I should apologize. I mean, I’m not allowed to get off the bed. I’m basically at her mercy.”

“Don’t worry,” Loki said. “If it comes to it, I’ll flirt with her.”

“I suspect she plays for the other team, Loki,” said Sylvie, whose gay-dar was never wrong,

“Then you flirt with her,” Loki said, earning a nose-scrunch.

Eventually, though, Sylvie’s water did break. By the time the nurses helped her get into a new gown and change her sheets, it was time to push and Dr. Willis was called.

“Push when I tell you, ok?” she said.

“Ok,” Sylvie said, holding tightly to Loki’s hand. Although she wasn’t in pain anymore, she could still feel the contractions. The nurses took the entire bottom part of the bed away and put her legs up in stirrups. Luckily, she had enough control over both of them so that Loki could still hold her hand.

“Push,” Dr. Willis said.

Sylvie did as she was told.

“I see the head,” the Dr. said.

“Does he have black hair?” Sylvie asked.

“Yes,” Dr. Willis said, giving her a curios glance. “Push…now.”

Sylvie pushed again and was informed the head was out (she couldn’t really feel that part).

She looked aside at Loki and was surprised to discover he was crying. Her own eyes filled with tears, which she fought to shake off. She squeezed his hand and turned back to the doctor. She had work to do.

“One more push to get the shoulders out,” Dr. Willis said. “One…two…now.”

Sylvie pushed.

“Now get him out,” Dr. Willis ordered, and without much thought Sylvie reached down, grabbed her baby’s armpits and pulled him into her arms. He was slippery, and big, and absolutely beautiful, with the same tuft of black hair he had in all of her dreams.

“Look, Loki,” she said, now starting to cry. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”

“Looks just like his daddy,” the nurse said, giving Loki a meaningful look.

Loki and Sylvie exchanged glances and smiled sadly at each other. Sylvie felt a pang of regret which quickly washed away as she felt the weight of her son in her arms.

“He is beautiful,” Loki said. “Just like you.”

And he leaned down to kiss her forehead.

Chapter Text

The doorbell rang, waking Loki up from his slumber. He’d fallen into an impromptu nap on the living room couch, exhausted from the last few days. First there was the delivery, which lasted until the small hours of the night. Though he didn’t do any of the physical labor (pun intended), he did stay up all night and into the next morning.

After the baby was born and was cleaned, weighed, checked and brought back to his mother, Loki left them both to rest in the hospital and went back to Sylvie’s apartment to organize. Sylvie, who held onto some superstitions, refused to build the crib and load the changing table before the baby was born; so, it fell to Loki to do all those things while she was in the hospital. At any rate, doing all that plus cleaning, grocery shopping etc. took an entire day.

The next day he had to go back to work, and then go back to the hospital to drive Sylvie and the baby back home. While Sylvie was busy recuperating and nursing (which, he was promptly informed, was harder than it looked and also required special creams for cracked nipples), Loki changed diapers, made meals and generally got to know the new person in his and Sylvie’s life.

To say that he fell in love immediately would be an understatement. From the moment Loki saw that head of black hair in the delivery room and looked into the blue, blinking eyes of the confused newborn, he knew that his life would never be the same. It was, without any exaggeration, the most beautiful baby he’d ever seen. It was funny, because truth be told he was never even remotely interested in babies before. They seemed to be, in general, red and wrinkly and smelly and, well, altogether pretty boring.

“What are you going to call him?” he asked Sylvie, who for months wouldn’t tell him any of the names she was considering (another superstition).

“Ash,” she said.

“Ash Lushton?” Loki asked. “Are you sure?”

She scrunched her nose at him.

“Well, I suppose I could give him a boring middle name, like David or something,” she said. “Ash David Lushton.”

“Well, as long as you don’t call him Ashton,” Loki said.

“Ashton Lushton?” Sylvie asked, giggling. “Yeah, no.”

She did end up keeping the middle name David, though.

At any rate, while Ash was the sweetest thing, his schedule wasn’t conductive of much rest, and by the weekend both Loki and Sylvie were cranky and exhausted. Frigga, who sounded both delighted and curious about the new baby, offered to come by on Saturday to help.

“Come in,” Loki told his mother now, as he opened the door. “Sylvie and the baby are asleep, so we’ll have to be quiet. Would you like something to drink?”

Frigga kissed him on the cheek and then stood looking around, a frown on her face.

“I see I got here just in time,” she said. “You two need all the help you can get.”

It was her first time in Sylvie’s apartment, he realized with regret. He should have cleaned, or at the very least tidied up a little. As it was, the apartment was a mess. The sink was full of used dishes and the table hadn’t yet been cleared from their lunch. There were clothes strewn about, and assorted baby things here and there: a pile of clean diapers; some packs of baby wipes; a pacifier or two; some books in various stages of being read; and Loki’s work computer, half buried under a swaddle blanket.

“We’re getting by,” he said. She smiled at him warmly.

“I’m sure you are. But you look like you didn’t sleep in a while, and I bet a hundred bucks Sylvie slept even less than you.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have to get up every three hours to breastfeed,” Loki pointed out.

Frigga winced sympathetically.

“How is Sylvie doing?” she asked after she sat down at the kitchen table. Loki put the kettle on and went around the living room, picking up things half-heartedly and laying them back down in different, no more logical, places.

“Tired,” he said. “A little emotional. Mobius says it’s just the baby blues and we shouldn’t worry about it, but also that it should not last more than a few days.”

“Who’s Mobius?” Frigga asked.

“Sylvie’s boss,” Loki explained. “He’s, ah…kind of a father figure, I guess.”

“I see,” Frigga said.

“And how are you doing?” she asked, somewhat carefully.

“I’m good,” Loki said truthfully. “I’m happy, believe it or not. I wasn’t planning on changing diapers any time soon, but as it turns out I do it more than Sylvie does right now.”

Frigga smiled, and he could see the pride in her eyes.

“And the baby?” Frigga asked. “What’s his name again?”

“Ash,” Loki said, the name rolling pleasantly on his tongue. “Although Sylvie still calls him Bear.”

“Bear?”

“That’s his tummy name,” Loki explained.

Frigga smiled.

“Yours was Peanut,” she said.

“Original,” Loki said, and they both chuckled. “What was Thor’s?”

“Thunder,” Frigga said.

Loki rolled his eyes.

“Of course it was.”

They had tea and chatted for a while, after which Frigga volunteered to wash the dishes and tidy up a bit (to Loki’s relief, she did a much better job of it than he did). After about an hour Sylvie emerged from the bedroom, looking groggy and disoriented.

“There you are,” Frigga said. “How are you feeling?”

“That depends,” Sylvie grunted, “what day is it?”

“Still Saturday,” Loki clarified.

“Oh,” Sylvie said. “Then fine, I guess.”

Frigga smiled.

“Don’t get to sleep much, do you?” she asked sympathetically.

Sylvie shook her head. “At least he’s asleep now. I need coffee. Loki, do we have some coffee?”

“On it,” Loki said, rushing to the rescue.

“Thank you,” Sylvie sighed, collapsing into the nearest chair. She started patting her hair, which was messy to the point of defying gravity, probably in a vain effort to look more presentable.

“Don’t worry about it,” Frigga said. “After each of my kids was born I was a mess for at least a month.”

“Good to know,” Sylvie said, stifling a yawn. “How long have you been here?”

“About an hour,” Frigga said. “I was really hoping to see the baby.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll be up soon,” Sylvie said.

“There you go,” said Loki, placing a mug of steaming hot coffee in front of her.

“You take your coffee black?” Frigga asked. “Somehow I always imagined you liked sugary drinks with whipped cream and cookie crumbles.”

Sylvie laughed.

“Milk doesn’t last much in the wilderness, and sugar just attracts ants,” she explained. “So I’m used to drinking black. Out in the wild I usually have cooked black coffee, but this is also ok.”

“You cook your coffee?” Frigga asked, confused.

“Yeah,” Sylvie said. “My parents and I ran into a guy once at a campsite and he taught us to cook coffee on the fire. He called it ‘Cowboy Coffee’. It’s really good.”

“Now I’m curious to try it,” Frigga said.

“Unfortunately I’m out of the good kind,” Sylvie said, looking genuinely regretful.

“Some other time then,” Frigga said.

At that moment they heard a noise from the bedroom, a baby preparing to cry.

“That’s my cue,” Sylvie said. “I’ll feed him and then he’s all yours,” she told Frigga, and disappeared into the bedroom, leaving her half-drunken coffee behind.

By the time she emerged the apartment was spotless, all the dishes washed and clean and a pot of soup cooking on the stove. Frigga was sitting on the couch, folding the laundry.

“Wow,” Sylvie said. “Come every day, Frigga.”

“Don’t tempt her,” Loki scolded, and both women rolled their eyes at him.

“So here’s the little guy,” Frigga said, reaching for the baby.

“This is Ash,” Sylvie said, placing him in Frigga’s arms. “Ash, this is Frigga.”

Frigga cradled the baby, humming contentedly. While she was busy cooing over him, Sylvie looked at Loki and said “is it ok if I go take a shower? Now that you’re both here I feel like I can finally take some time for myself.”

“Of course, darling,” Loki said, giving her a little kiss. After she left he turned back to his mother, who was looking at the baby with a peculiar expression on her face.

“Something wrong?” Loki asked.

“No,” Frigga said. “Um. It’s just that…”

“Yes?” he prompted.

Frigga looked at him, back at the baby, then back at him.

“It’s uncanny,” she said.

“What is?” Loki asked. For some reason his heart was beating very fast.

“Are you sure you’re not the father, Loki?” Frigga asked.

“What?!” Loki replied, scandalized. “No! I told you, Sylvie was already pregnant when we started seeing each other.”

“Her donor must have looked a lot like you, then,” Frigga said. “Because if I didn’t know better, I’d say this baby is the spitting image of you.”

Loki sighed, rubbing his face with his hand. He was so tired.

“All the nurses at the hospital said the same,” he admitted. “They kept joking about how Sylvie gave birth to my mini-me. She didn’t tell them it was a sperm donor. I guess she didn’t want to make a fuss.”

“Ok…” Frigga said. He could tell she had more on her mind, so he raised his eyebrows at her, prompting her to speak.

“I don’t know how to ask this,” Frigga said.

“I guess you’ll have to figure it out,” said Loki, impatient. He had no idea where she was going with this.

“Ok…” she said again. “I’ll just ask straight out, then. Did you ever donate sperm, Loki?”

“What?!” Loki asked. “Where did you - - no!”

“No?”

“No!” Loki said. “Of course not. Why would you even suggest it?!”

Frigga shook her head.

“I guess it’s just a coincidence then,” she said quietly. “That’s a shame. It would have made one hell of a story for the grandkids.”

Loki gave her an exasperated look.

*

After she left and Sylvie was asleep again, he called Thor.

“You won’t believe what Mother said to me today,” he said, eager to share in the embarrassment.

“What?” Thor asked. He was chewing something while on the phone.

Rude.

“She asked me if I ever gave sperm,” Loki said, laughing uncomfortably.

“Really?” Thor asked, laughing. “What, just out of the blue?”

“No,” Loki said, “she says the baby looks like me,” he explained.

“That’s funny,” Thor said. “I hope you didn’t tell her about our bet.”

“What bet?” Loki asked.

Thor stopped chewing.

“You know,” he said. “The bet.”

“What bet?” Loki asked. He had no idea what his brother was talking about.

“You don’t remember?” Thor asked.

“No?” Loki said, unsure now. “What are you talking about?”

“You did give sperm, about 15 years ago,” Thor said very slowly. “We had a bet. I said you won’t be able to go through with it and you proved me wrong. Don’t you remember?”

From the back of Loki’s mind, a forgotten memory was rising: a grey, uninspiring room. A plastic cup in his hand. Dirty looking magazines. Generic porn flick on his phone.

“Oh,” Loki said. “Right.”

“You totally forgot, didn’t you?” Thor asked, amused.

“Yes,” Loki said in a flat tone. “But in my defense, it was ages ago, and just once. I mean, I don’t think sperm even keeps that long.”

“Yeah, probably not,” Thor agreed.

“I mean, if they even kept it, which I assumed they didn’t, because they did require a commitment to donate several times, which I then broke.”

“Of course,” Thor said.

“And even if they did keep it, someone would have used it by now, right? It’s been 15 years.”

“I mean, maybe?” Thor said. “They didn’t ask for your hobbies or anything, did they?”

“They did, actually,” Loki said. “Why?”

“Well, I doubt most prospective mothers are enthusiastic about knife throwing ,” Thor said philosophically, “so you should be safe.”

“I guess,” Loki said.

The brothers were silent for a while, each lost in thought. The only sound on the line was Thor’s resumed chewing.

“I mean, even if they did keep it, and no one else was interested for 15 years, the chance of Sylvie of all people making a baby with my sperm is minuscule, right? Honestly, the mere idea is preposterous!”

“Yeah,” Thor said. “Yeah, there’s no chance.”

“No,” Loki hurried to agree.

There was another silent beat.

“I mean, there’s a little chance,” Thor said.

“Thor.”

“What?” Thor asked. “You did give sperm, so there is a chance, however small. But I wouldn’t get my hopes up, if I were you.”

“No,” Loki said. “You’re right.”

“Imagine, though,” Thor said, “that would make for a crazy story.”

“That’s what mom said,” Loki said, exasperated.

“Maybe you should talk to Sylvie,” Thor suggested. “Ask her what she knows about the sperm donor.”

“What’s the point?” Loki asked. “There’s no chance it was me.”

“Yeah, I know,” Thor said, “but the curiosity is killing you, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Loki admitted, taking a deep breath. “Yes, it is.”