You've Got Sucker's Luck
Full summary: Loki's half-hearted attempt at redemption careens off-course after encountering SHIELD's latest asset - a young woman who was injured in a Chitauri blast that left her widowed, able to sense magic, and with no memory of the Battle of NY...or Loki. Curious, he allows himself to be captured by SHIELD in order to study her further, but ends up trapped when Thor arrives on the scene. Facing the prospect of indefinite imprisonment on Earth (without even a magazine), Loki strikes a deal with Fury: Freedom, in exchange for helping one mouthy, slightly-brain damaged mortal recover her memories - without revealing the role he played in the death of her husband.
AN: This is a slow burn fic with a lot of plot development at the beginning. If you want to skip ahead, chapters 1, 2, and 6 and beyond are where things pick up with Loki and the OC. Chapters 3, 4, and 5 involve Loki pissing off Fury and Coulson, and Loki explaining to Thor why he's not dead. Again.
Chapter 1
"Skim or lowfat?" The elderly woman wondered out loud, a thoughtful finger tapping her chin as she perused the menu boards. "Sugar free? Agave? Hmm..."
Sitting by himself at a table a few feet away, Loki watched this one-way deliberation unfold and felt a twinge of sympathy for the barista standing on the other side of the counter. Perhaps the Avengers had done him a favor, sparing him from being sovereign to such an imbecilic species.
Burdened with glorious purpose, indeed.
Rolling his eyes, Loki forced down a cloying swallow of coffee and glanced at his watch. Three-thirty.
He hated waiting. He had not intended to arrive early, but his uneasy truce with Heimdall did not extend to matters involving petty pranks, and the gatekeeper had "accidentally" deposited him in Manhattan, Nevada rather than Manhattan, New York. The error was soon remedied, but had left Loki with three hours to spare and nothing with which to occupy himself. An unexpected downpour had forced him to seek refuge in a nearby Starbucks, where he now sat feigning interest in a caramel macchiato and watching the rain.
I despise this realm. Its sights, its smells, its sounds…everything.
Given a choice, he would have scorched the little blue planet off every map of Yggdrasil and ordered Heimdall to never again aim the Bifrost in its direction. But thanks to his accord with Odin - not to mention five humans and their overgrown green brute - he was forced to keep Midgard under his purview.
For would-be superheroes, they were maintaining surprisingly low profiles. Romanov and Barton had hired themselves out to MI6 in another attempt to prove to no one but themselves that their relationship was platonic. Banner was in some poverty-stricken part of the globe, in self-exile once more. Rogers was his usual pedantic, patriotic self; and as for Thor…
Well, domestic felicity certainly suited him.
Stark was last on the list, and an invitation from Stark Industries (addressed to one Luke LaFey, Esq., the identity he assumed during these delightful little sojourns), had provided Loki with a convenient opportunity to observe the egotistical fool from a polite distance and then return home.
He checked his watch again. Three thirty-six.
Bored, Loki shifted his focus to the window adjacent to him, which reflected the interior of the coffee shop. A young woman sat at a nearby table, staring into space with an unopened laptop sitting before her. Two children, squabbling under the supervision of their weary parents. And the woman at the register, who was still undecided about what to order, much to the ire of the other customers queued behind her in line.
What dull creatures, still suffering for want of a leader to rule them. Had I been stronger –
He stiffened in his chair.
No. There is no "if," he reminded himself sternly. It is done. My only hope is that she watches from Valhalla and takes solace in what she sees.
The antics going on at the register spared him from the dangers of further self-reflection. The woman at the counter had placed her order at last, but rather than proceeding with payment, was now inquiring about coupons.
"I'm really sorry," the long-suffering barista said, glancing at the slip of paper the woman offered to her, "but you're at Starbucks. This is a coupon for Tim Hortons."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" exploded the man who was next in line. "C'mon! I don't have time for this shit!"
"You know what?" Fed up, the barista grabbed the coupon from the woman's outstretched hand and rang up the order. "It's on the house."
The woman was then directed to the pick-up counter to wait for her drink, only to be roughly shoved aside by the still-cursing male behind her.
"Large coffee, black, I'm payin' with a card, and no, I don't want the receipt," he barked.
The barista raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Regular or decaf?" she drawled.
"Regular," he snapped. Then he turned to the old woman and sneered, "See? Was that so hard? Jesus!"
"I'm sorry," she nervously clutched her purse, "This is just such a treat for me – "
"Then next time just do us all a favor and stay home with your goddamn NesCafe," he snarled.
He grabbed his drink from the barista (who had filled the cup from the pot marked decaf, Loki noticed) and stormed over to where cream and sugar were kept.
Loki did not suffer fools lightly, Midgardian or otherwise, and decaf did not strike him as sufficient punishment for such horrid behavior. He waved his hand under the table and smiled as the odious mortal's cup of large coffee, black, took an unfortunate tumble down his front.
"Fuckin' A!" the man howled as hot coffee spilled over his shirt, scalding him.
His voice carried throughout the store and everyone present turned to look – all but the woman with the laptop, who instead looked straight to Loki. Their eyes met. Realizing he had noticed, she yanked the laptop towards her, opened the lid, and started typing.
Strangely, however, the computer remained turned off.
Curious, Loki waved his hand beneath the table once more, this time upturning a small display of metal travel mugs that sat near the entrance. They hit the ground with a jarring clatter; again, all heads turned in the direction of the noise, whereas the woman's gaze reflexively went right back to him.
Hmm.
He sat back in his seat and waited for the coffee shop to resume its normal activity. The odious male left, shouting threats of litigation as he made his way out the door. The barista dragged out a mop to deal with the puddles of coffee, then did some quiet cursing of her own when one of the children nearby knocked over a second display of tumblers.
Once Loki was certain the woman was no longer paying him any mind, he casually picked up his cup. A burst of thermal energy channeled through his fingertips, reheating the creamy liquid inside until it was steaming.
The woman's eyes stayed glued to her screen, but Loki could tell from the tension in her jaw that she knew she had been caught. She slammed the laptop shut and started gathering up her things to leave.
Loki dropped his eyes back down to his coffee, but continued to furtively study her through his lashes. She appeared about his age in Midgardian years, with long, light-brown hair hair and dark eyes. She had a nervous, harried air about her, and a face that probably earned her a few second glances, but nothing else to suggest she was anything out of the ordinary.
Just exactly what are you?
Loki drummed his fingers against the tabletop and did some quick thinking. Stark was due to hold an expo in Chicago the following month. Checking up on the man now or later would be of little difference.
He took a final draught from his cup and then rose to his feet, deliberately walking by the woman's table on his way to the exit. She had finished shoving her belongings into her bag and was already halfway out of her chair, but sat back down to let him go by. Loki tripped slightly as he went, catching his toe on an invisible obstacle, and threw his hand out to grasp her chair as he regained his balance.
"Sorry," he apologized, flashing a quick smile.
She didn't return it. He was on his way out the door seconds later, but the interlude had been long enough for him to reach into her bag and filch her wallet.
The rain had subsided to a misty drizzle when he reached the sidewalk, and he turned his collar up against the damp as he headed to the newspaper stand across the street. Tabloids were a guilty pleasure of his (if the Realm Eternal lacked anything, it was a steady supply of trashy sensationalist journalism), and he couldn't think of a better way to bide his time as he waited for the woman to make her exit.
He was snickering over an in-depth psychological profile entitled 'Loki: Of Gods, Monsters and Mischief' when his target emerged from the coffee shop. She paused on the sidewalk, glancing to her left, and then to her right. Her gaze went to the newsstand, but he blended in well enough with the crowd that she looked right over him. Reassured that the coast was clear, she turned and disappeared into the throng of pedestrians.
As soon as he lost sight of her, Loki set aside the magazine and took out the wallet he had appropriated from her bag. The credit cards he found within were expired, as was her driver's license, which listed her name as Nolan, Sabrina Mae. Her address, he noticed, was on the same street as the coffee shop, but several blocks in the opposite direction from where she had been headed.
"Hey, golden boy," a grumpy voice inquired beside him.
Loki – forgetting that his Midgardian doppleganger sported a head of blond curls – did not immediately pick up on the fact the newspaper proprietor was addressing him.
"You gonna buy anything or just stand there and look pretty?" he demanded when Loki finally glanced over to him.
"Neither," Loki answered smoothly. He tucked the wallet back in his pocket and turned to leave, grazing a stack of magazines with his fingers as he walked away.
"Shit!" he heard the man yelp a few moments later. This utterance was followed by the sound of piles of magazines and newspapers toppling onto cement, and shouts of, "Snakes! Watch out, snakes!"
They were, in fact, eels and not snakes, but no matter. Loki chuckled to himself and kept walking.
Finding Sabrina Nolan's address proved to be of no difficulty. A woman was hurrying through the apartment building's main entrance as he approached, which spared Loki the hassle of charming the lock, and he was able to enter the lobby unnoticed. He stepped into the elevator, waited for the doors to close, and then murmured an incantation to dry the moisture from his clothes.
Curls of steam were still wafting from his coat when the elevator doors re-opened, revealing a brightly lit hallway. Sabrina Nolan's apartment was at the far end of the corridor, double-deadbolted and locked up tight. He waved his hand over the mottled brass knob and prepared to go in. The was a quiet click as the locks' tumblers shifted, but then he heard the slightest of creaks - someone had crept into place on the opposite side of the threshold and was now lying in wait for him to make his entrance.
Well, no need to disappoint. He entered and came face-to-face with Sabrina Nolan - and the business end of a double-barreled shotgun. Her easy stance and steady aim told him she knew how to use it.
"If you're looking for more coffee," she said pleasantly. "I'm fresh out. Hands up."
Loki smirked; he must have taken a shortcut and returned home before he had arrived. Lucky for her, he was in an indulgent mood and held his hands aloft as requested.
"This is unwise," he warned her.
"You broke into my apartment," she retorted. "Pot, meet kettle."
He went to lower his hands.
She moved her finger to the trigger.
Loki looked down at the length of black steel pressing into his sternum, and huffing, held his hands back up.
"I have no wish to hurt you," he said firmly.
"Okay," she replied. "That makes one of us. What are you doing here?"
Recognition came into her eyes before Loki could answer, followed by unbridled irritation.
"Oh, for..." She set the shotgun down, resting the stock on the floor, one hand around the barrel. "Let me guess. Coulson sent you, right?"
Loki came by his nickname of Liesmith honestly if not honorably, and at any given time was equipped with as many alibis as he was knives. It was rare when he could not think of a reply. This mention of Coulson, however, caught him wholly off guard.
"I know you're just the messenger and that you're following orders," she was saying, taking no notice of his confusion as she shoved past him into the dusty living room, "but do me a favor and tell your boss he's about one BE short of a restraining order. I don't need a baby sitter."
Bee and E? Loki wondered, only half-listening as he regained his composure. What did this reference? Baldr and Eir? Bragi and Eostre?
"Wait a second," he heard her gasp. She whirled around to face him, now wearing an accusatory glare of outrage. "He bugged you, didn't he?!"
She didn't wait for a reply and stormed over, poking and prodding at him as she searched for something on his person. Loki tolerated these indignities, stone-faced, until she grabbed his arm to start inspecting his sleeve.
"Madam, I can assure you that Agent Coulson is not monitoring our conversation," he declared, grasping both of her wrists and pushing her back from him.
"Then why are you here?" she demanded. "Who are you?"
"A representative of SHIELD," he replied, story at the ready, "Security."
"Security?" She looked him up and down. "You look like you came straight out of Renn Faire. What gives?"
Assuming she was referring to the cut and quality of his suit, which was leaps and bounds above SHIELD's paltry standard-issue garb – Coulson wouldn't know Armani if it slapped him in the face - Loki dodged the question and extended his hand.
"John Lucas," he said, coming up with name on the spot.
"Sabrina Nolan," she answered, still looking wary. She firmly returned his handshake, and added, "But you already knew that."
"Ah – yes." He adopted a rueful expression and continued, "I would have introduced myself, but –"
"What was up with you, back there at the coffee shop?" she interrupted. "Are you guys testing some kind of new thing? I've never felt a spike like that, not from anybody."
"A spike?" Loki adopted a confused expression. "I don't know what you mean."
"Yeah, SHIELD has some fancy name for it," she said. "Sith – seth – sither…" She closed her eyes, struggling to remember, but then finally shook her head and looked back at him. "Sorry," she apologized. "My memory is still pretty shot."
"I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage," Loki said. He knew full well the word Nolan was unable to recall: Seidr – power. Magic. Exactly what had the little mortals been up to that they were dabbling with Seidr? And how had they not already blown themselves to bits?
An unpleasant revelation occurred to him: His accord with Odin never specified the form his reparations needed to take, only that he needed to atone for his crimes on Earth and Jotunheim. Surely the Allfather had not intended Loki's penance to also include playing the role of Midgardian's magical nursemaid for the rest of his life…!
Or perhaps that is precisely what you intended, Loki reflected darkly, his fists clenching as he recalled those agonizing final moments at Odin's bedside. Making me an offer I could never refuse, knowing I would agree to anything if it meant being able to see her again.
"Are you okay?"
Sabrina's voice pulled Loki out of his livid abstraction, and when he returned his attention to her, she saw that her irritated expression had shifted into one of concern.
He apologized, made a generic excuse about having had a long day, and then continued, "My orders were simply to bring you in. There was no mention of…spikes."
She was about to ask him another question when the chime of the elevator at the end of the hallway reached Loki's ears, followed by approaching footsteps. These sounds fell outside of the range of human hearing, but Sabrina Nolan caught his change in countenance and straightened up from where she had been leaning against the back of the couch.
"What's wrong?"
The door burst open before he could reply; five armed men flooded into the room with weapons brandished, accompanied by a woman clad in a black jumpsuit.
"What the hell!" Sabrina Nolan yelped as they crowded inside. Two men headed straight for her, flanking her on either side as the remaining three directed their armaments at Loki.
For the third time that day Loki raised his hands into the air, thinking dark thoughts of what might transpire if he were forced to do it a fourth time.
The woman in black strode forward, her eyes locked on him.
"State your name and purpose," she ordered.
Maria Hill, he recalled as he looked back at her. Barton had provided him quite the dossier about Agent Hill.
"I have no quarrel with any you – yet," he replied evenly, his hands still raised.
"You're posing member of SHIELD and infiltrated the home of one of our assets," she snapped. "By my standards, that's a quarrel. Who are you? Why are you here?"
"He didn't infiltrate anything," Sabrina interjected before Loki could reply. "I let him in."
He looked over at her in surprise. What game was she playing at?
"And greeted him at the door with a shotgun?" Hill was asking skeptically. She gestured to where the weapon in question stood propped up by the door.
Sabrina shrugged and removed a small cylinder from her pocket, idly turning it over in her fingers.
"I was cleaning it."
The object she held was red and tipped in gold metal - a shotgun shell. Loki had scant familiarity with Earth's hilariously pathetic concept of weaponry, but he recognized munitions when he saw them, and smothered a wild urge to laugh.
Take note, Loki, he observed, making a less-than-valiant effort at concealing his contempt. When you next visit this realm, mind the gap, and remember your chestplate.
"Ma'am? Agent – Agent Hill? Ma'am?"
A new voice came echoing from the corridor, its owner rushing inside the apartment seconds later. He was slightly built, with curly hair, and carried a small piece of red-and-black machinery. The device was beeping shrilly and increased in pitch the closer he came in proximity to Loki, who bared his teeth at the grating noise.
Hill tore her eyes away from him and glanced at the newcomer.
"The readings," he sputtered, still panting from what seemed to have been a mad dash, "the readings – they're unbelievable! We haven't seen anything like it since –"
Agent Hill motioned the younger man over.
"How off the charts?" she asked as he bounded to her side and handed the device to her.
"Just look at it!" he said earnestly. "It's the strangest thing, too – we haven't had any signs of atmospheric disturbances. All's been quiet on the Western front, really."
"Is that the thing that wouldn't shut up on the way over here?" muttered one of the guards beside him.
"I thought I'd lost the receiver ages ago!" the boy was saying as Hill studied the gadget's tiny screen before poking at one of the dials. "But it started – wait, wait, wait!" he protested, trying to snatch the device back from her.
"The alarm, Fitz," Agent Hill said wearily, letting him take it. "Turn it off. Before you give us all migraines."
"Want me to shoot it?" Sabrina offered.
The boy named Fitz threw her a dirty look and turned a switch on the device. The noise ceased, and Hill focused her eyes on the screen once more. Fitz continued to hover, saying, "We've triple checked it and it's not an anomalous signature. I'm certain it's accurate but – I'm sorry – sir?" He looked at Loki and smiled brightly. "What did you say your name was? And where are you from?"
"I didn't," Loki replied coolly.
Hill's face had turned to stone during this interim, and when she lifted her gaze from the screen and back towards Loki, he knew the jig was up. She touched her ear, activating a communication device, and spoke: "I need Destroyer guns up here. Now."
Ignoring Loki's malevolent look of outrage, she fixed her eyes back on Sabrina Nolan. "Ms. Nolan, describe this man."
The other woman looked at her blankly.
"Huh?"
Agent Hill inclined her head in Loki's direction.
"Humor me."
"You've got eyes," Sabrina Nolan shot back. "Use 'em."
"Just describe him," Hill said, clenching her teeth.
More men entered the room at that moment, putting a pause on their argument. Loki went to lower his hands, then glared when three Destroyer guns rose in tandem, all taking aim at his chest.
Hill signaled to two of the guards, who came to stand on either side of Loki – a show of force meant to intimidate, but instead served only to burn away his last vestiges of patience.
Enough, he decided. Sabrina Nolan could be looked in on at another time.
He silently called an invisibility spell out of the air and prepared to make his exit, but the magic at his fingertips drained away when he saw the imploring look Sabrina Nolan was sending in his direction – as if she wanted him to tell her the answer Agent Hill sought regarding his appearance.
Gods of all the realms, he realized. The little fool is on my side.
Agent Hill rapidly clued into her charge's weak attempt at subterfuge and took a mobile phone from her pocket. She thumbed across the surface a few times before holding it out to the other woman. Loki caught a glimpse at the screen and tried not to grimace; displayed in crystal-clear, high definition, at the most unflattering angle possible, was his face, captured mid-battle with none other than Captain America.
Fitz gulped; he had also seen the image and now seemed to be having difficulty breathing.
"Any resemblance?" Agent Hill inquired. Her tone made it clear that she expected no indication to the contrary.
Mounting curiosity overrode Loki's desire to retreat, and he stayed in place as Sabrina Nolan reluctantly reached out to take the phone. She looked at the screen, looked at him, and then back at the screen.
"I guess?"
Loki's eyes widened. Beneath the illusion of brown eyes, wavy blond hair, and his suit, he was clad in his everyday garb. Not the armor he wore in the photograph, but still, nothing that would remotely blend in.
You look like you came straight out of Renn Faire. What gives?
Understanding dawned upon Loki, bringing with it an answer so implausible that his mind reeled. His vision took an abrupt shift in scope, and everyone but the mortal woman holding the phone faded away.
Was she extraordinarily stupid or had she spent the last three years living under a rock? How did she not know to run away in the coffee shop, screaming, when she laid eyes on the god who had tried to enslave humanity?
But more importantly…how did she possess the ability to sense magic, and see past it as well?
Loki made a swift review of the immediate responsibilities awaiting him back on Asgard. The Allfather kept a tight schedule, but he could spare a few hours to study this woman, even if it meant going through the trouble of getting captured by SHIELD and escaping them later – and maybe have a bit of fun while he was at it.
Perhaps he might might even spell Nick Fury into sprouting some hair.
Decision made, he turned his thoughts to the Gatekeeper sent a message via the summonsing conduit he had conjured for occasions such as these.
Heimdall, I am going to be late. Make my excuses to the delegation from Vanaheim. I shall be at the banquet, but have the Allfather's simulacrum at the ready in the event I am further delayed.
Heimdall's response was sarcastic, but prompt: As you will, my king.
"Casey, stay with her," Agent Hill was saying as Loki closed the conduit and returned his attention back to his surroundings. "The rest of you – don't let this man out of your sight. I want those guns on him at all times."
The brutes responded immediately. One man stayed in place beside Sabrina Nolan as the other four came to surround Loki. The barrels of their Destroyer guns flared and began to glow, ominous reminders that unlike the shotgun, these were weapons that could do him harm.
He said nothing but didn't bother to hide his smirk as Hill approached him, her eyes gleaming with loathing – and satisfaction.
"Agent Hill," he acknowledged with a courteous nod. "It's been far too long. Although if memory serves, we were never properly introduced. Shall we take care of that now?"
"Drop the party tricks," she told him coldly. "I know who you are."
Loki lifted his chin with a haughty smile and allowed the illusion to melt away.
Gasps came from the audience as golden beams of light twisted around him, shifting the hue and length of his hair, restoring his natural pallor, and replacing his suit with his usual clothing. Seven pairs of eyes stared back at him in astonishment. Sabrina Nolan, he noted, only looked confused.
An awkward silence fell, followed by unintelligible stammering. The spluttered syllables were coming from Fitz, who was still struggling to reconcile reality and the so-called gospel truth of SHIELD's briefing memos regarding Loki's demise.
"But…!" Fitz squeezed his eyes shut, opened them again, shuddered when he saw that, yes, he was really seeing what he thought he was seeing, and then looked beseechingly at Agent Hill. "I know this was the same signature we saw the day he tried to steal the Tesseract," he sputtered, "but he's supposed to be – "
"Go notify the Director," she snapped, and adding a frustrated, "Now," when he started to protest.
Fitz had gone the colour of whey, unsure what prospect he found more terrifying: Holding a conversation with Nick Fury, or remaining within a stone's throw of Loki.
"Oh bloody hell," he said weakly. He spun on his heel and exited.
Hill turned her attention back on Loki, who mockingly gestured to her with an open palm – Your move.
"Cuffs," she barked, not taking her eyes off of him. "Every pair you've got, I want on him. Casey," she turned to the man flanking Sabrina Nolan, "bring her in. Let them know we've found her."
While Maria Hill and her team worked to secure multiple pairs of handcuffs to Loki's wrists, Sabrina Nolan's escort nudged her towards the door. She walked a few steps but then faltered, glancing over her shoulder to the kitchen counter. Lying in a heap was her bag, the same Loki remembered seeing her with at the coffee shop.
"Come on, Brynn," her guard said quietly.
Her face fell, and she left without further protest.
Confident that Maria Hill's agents were too busy with their task to take any notice, Loki made a subtle motion with his fingers and appropriated the bag. To the naked eye it simply vanished from sight, but its molecular structure had been altered to fit within a two-dimensional space, flat enough to be folded and transferred into a pocket. It was a trick he had performed many times before, storing items about his person by way of razor-thin strips of matter, and then returning them to three-dimensional space when he had need of them.
A ninth pair of cuffs encircled his wrists and locked into place. Maria Hill and the guard assisting her both stepped back to survey their handiwork. Crude metal bracelets now marched halfway up both of Loki's forearms, linked together by thick chains.
Stifling a laugh, he drew himself up to his full height and fixed them all with a haughty smile.
"Allow me to compliment you on your efforts, gentlemen – and lady," he added in feigned deference to Maria Hill, who looked about two seconds away from ripping out his throat.
There was a flash of green light. The handcuffs transformed into Slinkies and fell from his wrists, landing on the floor and rolling, snake-like, in every direction.
The Destroyer guns surrounding him flared, and Maria Hill's furious blue eyes bore into his as one of the Slinkies came to a lazy stop at her feet.
Loki clasped his hands behind his back and gave her a knowing smile.
"Would you believe me if I promised to behave?"
"What the hell do you think?" she snarled.
"Ah," he raised his brows in thoughtful consideration, I'll take that as a 'no.' "
A muffled curse was Hill's only reply.
Snickering, Loki allowed his sentinels to lead him out of the apartment and back into the elevator. He knew not where they planned to take him, but for originality's sake hoped that it involved something other than a flying fortress, empty threats, and a glass cage. This was technically the first vacation he'd taken from Asgard since signing his life away to Odin. He did want to make the most of it.
The title of this story is from "Exile Vilify" by The National. It was written for the game Portal 2, but the lyrics and melody both brought Loki's character arc in the MCU to my mind when I heard it. (Infinity War not withstanding, because WTAF, Thanos.)
Also, up until about chapter 10, the bulk of this story was written 3 years ago. I am trying to go back and correct continuity errors as I find them, but apologies in advance for any ones I miss.
Find me on tumblr! Username is wrathkitty. (I'm super creative.)