Hello, all. Please excuse me while I leave this crapola here.
After six months of S.H.I.E.L.D. visits, oath swearing, and contract signing, it appeared to one Darcy Lewis, research assistant extraordinaire, that things in the Foster-Odinson-Selvig-Lewis household had finally gotten back to normal. Or, at least as normal as things could get when there was a blond thunder god sitting on your living-room couch, drinking your beer, and watching Saturday-morning cartoons.
The aforementioned research assistant, wearing naught but booty shorts and a tank top, now appeared, bleary eyed and disheveled, in the kitchen-slash-office area. Hearing the sounds of what sounded like the Monsters vs. Aliens theme song coming from the living room, she shuffled toward it and stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe.
All right, so the living room wasn't technically the living room; it was, in fact, just a tiny room off the side of the open-concept main living area adjoining the kitchen, and had clearly been intended, by whoever had designed the homey London flat, to be used as an office or a small bedroom. But Jane, of course, had hogged the room designed to be the living room as her office/mad-science-laboratory space, taking up half the kitchen as well, whereas Darcy's brand-new HDTV and prize movie collection had to crowd in the definitely not-living room. In all honesty, Darcy found the amount of space and time Jane designated to her work and research, as opposed to good old-fashioned lazily sitting around and doing nothing, inhuman and appalling, even after what would soon be a year of living under the same roof as her boss/best friend/sister figure.
"Darcy!" boomed the space alien she had come to call her friend and roommate, upon noticing her in the doorway. "Good morning!" He appeared completely unbothered by her current appearance, having become accustomed to her sleep attire over the three months they had lived together. That, or he was hiding his disapproval because his own attire currently wasn't one he'd want to be caught dead in. The plaid pajama pants were innocent enough, but his T-shirt sparked a flame of amusement even in Darcy's sleep-addled brain. It had been a planet-warming present from Tony Stark, after he and S.H.I.E.L.D. and the rest of the Avengers had learned of Thor's intention to remain on Earth and protect the planet on a permanent basis. A deep royal red to match Thor's iconic cape, the shirt had no markings, other than one phrase, printed on the front in bold golden letters: "I have Mjölnir in my pants". Once the meaning had dawned on him, Thor had laughed heartily, Jane had blushed, and Darcy had taken a picture, for science (for Facebook). Ever since the thunder god had moved in with her, Jane, and Erik, and began doing all the utterly hilari-shareable things he did, Darcy had acquired almost as many friends and followers on Facebook as Captain freakin' America himself.
Darcy opened her mouth to say good morning, but all that came out was a long and loud yawn. Then she forgot what she was going to say. Flapping her hand in the general direction of the kitchen, "Coffee," she finally managed.
"You are in luck," Thor said, smiling. "Erik prepared a fresh pot before he resigned to his quarters." Then his smile turned sad and almost apologetic.
Darcy knew it pained him to see the damage his not-brother's temporary residence in Erik Selvig's brain had caused the astrophysicist, and she also knew he felt a considerable amount of guilt because of it. In everything Thor had shared with her and Jane about Loki, one theme remained constant: Thor was haunted by the thought that there was something, anything, he could've done, that would've prevented his brother from turning out the way he did.
No matter how hard Jane and Darcy had tried to dissuade him of this idea, Thor's fixation and anguish continued, so the two women had switched to merely reminding him every once in a while that what Loki had done was done, and that Erik was still Erik, no matter the occasional bouts of pantslessness and the utter lack of a sleep schedule.
Of the three remaining residents with a sleep schedule, Thor and Darcy were normally the first ones up, while Jane preferred to sleep in until at least lunchtime. Darcy often wondered if that was part of the reason she had decided to become a research scientist—getting to choose your own work hours definitely sounded like an attractive bonus. Not that Darcy was forced to get up early; it's just that, until very recently, she had been a slave of the American post-secondary education system, where early-morning classes, exams, and 24-hour paper-writing fiestas were a thing of everyday life, and, well, her college sleep schedule had kind of stuck with her, even after graduation.
Having returned to the kitchen, Darcy now poured herself a hot cup of joe, taking a long sip before she had even bothered to add any milk or sugar. She made a face at the bitter taste, but decided that it was worth it as she felt the caffeine begin to ooze into her brain, chasing out the fuzzy dust bunnies that had settled there overnight. Feeling marginally more awake, she set out toward the refrigerator, hoping to score some milk for her coffee and for the Lucky Charms cereal she hoped Thor hadn't eaten the last of.
But she was barely around the corner of wall separating the stove from the fridge, when a column of bright, white, rainbow-y light, the kind unicorns often pranced through in children's imaginations and in acid trips, descended onto the balcony, which adjoined the kitchen. Darcy was entirely unfazed by this, noting only that the balcony had become a some kind of de facto landing pad for Asgardian travelers.
Once the rainbow-y light had cleared, three men remained on the balcony, clearly Asgardian.
"Hey, Thor," Darcy called across the room, "you better come here. There's some Asgardian dudes here to see you."
Thor's booming laughter carried out of the not-living room, and Darcy was pretty sure he was laughing at something on the television and not at what she had just said. "What was that, Darcy?" he asked, once he had stopped laughing.
But Darcy's attention was back on the men out on the balcony, mostly because all three of them were now staring at her through the balcony door, and also because two of them were waving enthusiastically.
The waving warriors Darcy recognized immediately. They were friends of Thor's that she had met back in Puente Antiguo. Fandral and Volstagg, if she recalled correctly. The dude in the middle, however . . . . Darcy's eyebrows scrunched together as she took in his appearance. The black, green, and gold outfit definitely rang some bells, but those were silenced and pushed to the back of Darcy's mental cathedral as more worrisome details jumped out at her. First of all, the dude's hands were bound in front of him by a pair of some kind of fancy-shmancy handcuffs. Secondly, both Fandral and Volstagg had a hand clamped on each of his leather-clad arms, holding him in place like he was some kind of prisoner. Oh, shit, he is a prisoner, isn't he? But what Darcy found most unsettling was that the guy wore a mask of some sort on his face. Or was it a muzzle? It did only cover his mouth. Great, Volstagg and Fandral brought over an Asgardian Hannibal Lecter.
Volstagg had let go of his prisoner and was yanking at the balcony door with both hands, unabashed by the fact that it was locked from the inside. Darcy took a step forward, hoping to unlock it for him, but at that moment, Volstagg yanked so hard, the door came completely out of its frame, clean with the hinges. Volstagg regarded the door in his hands for a moment, then shrugged and set it down out on the balcony, leaning it against the outer wall of the apartment. Darcy sighed and did a mental face palm. Thor had broken out that same door in his first week residing here. Speaking of Thor, where was the blond Thunder Wonder?
"Thor, Volstagg and Fandral are here, along with some dude straight from a BDSM sex shop," she tried calling again.
"Lady Darcy!" roared Volstagg, after having finally shuffled sideways through the narrow balcony doorway. Fandral and the prisoner (or the next big thing in fetish porn), being much slimmer than their companion, followed suit without a problem.
"Vols-" Darcy began, only to be scooped into a rib-crushing hug by the tall, burly redhead. What is air—? And she was definitely not in contact with the ground in any way whatsoever anymore.
"How have you been?" Volstagg boomed into the side of her head, and her ribcage literally shook with the sound.
Feeling her feet finally touch the floor again, and her lungs fill with much-needed oxygen, "Good," Darcy squeaked in reply.
Volstagg took a step back and patted her on the shoulder in a manner that wasn't entirely bone breaking.
Next, Fandral took a step forward, and performed an elaborate bow.
"'Sup?" Darcy said.
"Lady Darcy," Fandral said to her boobs, "your beauty is a salve upon my heart, weary from the horrors it had witnessed back in my home on Asgard." He then lifted her hand to his lips, finally gazing deeply into her eyes.
Darcy was fairly good at reading men, and could tell nine out of ten times when she was being hit on. Fandral, however, had just cast subtlety so far out the window, it had flown straight over Obvious Avenue, and landed deep in Desperation Park. And that just wasn't how Darcy liked to do things. Nevertheless, Fandral was probably the prettiest man she had ever laid eyes on (sorry, Thor), so although she didn't actually wanna do him (probably), she gladly enjoyed the eye candy.
Beside them, the prisoner made an unidentifiable sound beneath his mask, but to Darcy it sounded oddly like contempt.
"So, who's the cannibal?" Darcy asked, jerking a thumb in the direction of the mystery Asgardian.
By the confused look on Fandral and Volstagg's faces, Darcy could tell the reference had gone way over their heads, but before she could get into a detailed recounting of The Silence of the Lambs, she was distracted by the dull thud of thick glass hitting linoleum-covered floor behind her and slightly to her right. Turning around, her eyes landed on Thor, who stood beside the stove, hand outstretched, fingers curled slightly as if the beer bottle they had held were still there. His lips were parted and his blue eyes wide as he stared at the prisoner in front of him, and his face had gone so pale, Darcy wondered where the ghost was.
"Brother?" Thor whispered, his eyes still fixed on the prisoner.
Darcy's jaw dropped, and she spun around to look back at the Asgardian bondage enthusiast. Loki? Thor's very much dead brother? Unless Thor had another brother, whom he'd never mentioned to either her or Jane . . . . Bells were ringing inside Darcy's mental cathedral again, and this time, she listened. Images flashed through her head, short, blurry newscast clips, and longer, but even blurrier, YouTube videos, captured on people's cell phones and cameras, during last year's attack on New York. And the subject of these videos? A tall, lean, dark-haired man, clad in armor of black, green, and gold. The same man, wearing that same armor, that stood before her right now.
"Holy fucking shit," Darcy said, more to herself than to anyone.
Loki, and Darcy was certain now this was Loki, took in his pajama-clad not-brother with an air of utter disinterest, until his eyes lighted on the saying on Thor's shirt. One of Loki's eyebrows crept steadily up his forehead.
Thor appeared to have rediscovered his voice, as well as his ability to move. "You live, Brother!" he cried out, and rushed forward.
Darcy, Fandral, and Volstagg quickly made to move out of his way. The back of Darcy's knees hit the seat of a kitchen chair, and before she could catch herself, her legs folded and she flew hard down into the chair. Eh, might as well sit, she thought to herself, crossing her legs and settling down comfortably, like she'd totally meant to do that.
The scene unfolding in front of her was proving to be a true spectacle, and she had the front-row seat. Thor had pulled Loki, who was still muzzled and handcuffed, into a tight embrace, and every muscle in Loki's body had stiffened to the point that it looked like Thor was hugging a plastic mannequin, rather than an actual living being. And although Darcy couldn't see most of Loki's face thanks to the stupid mask, she could tell from the expression in his eyes alone that his thoughts had turned categorically toward the murderous. And then, literally out of nowhere, her brain took this image of Loki, and instead plastered over it an image of Gromit the dog, a character from a series of British claymation movies that Ian had been making her watch, who, like Loki at the moment, had no discernible mouth, and performed all communication through the expressions of his eyes and the movement of his body alone, to great comedic effect. And I've only had one sip of coffee, Darcy thought to herself, and then snorted in a totally ladylike fashion. As Fandral and Volstagg's eyes turned on her, she considered disguising her snort with a cough, but then remembered that she wasn't even wearing any pants, and decided against it, since it's not like her integrity was unscathed to begin with.
Thor had stopped hugging Loki, but still had both hands clamped down firmly on his shoulders. "Speak!" he commanded, then turned to Fandral and Volstagg. "Explain yourselves!"
From her seat beside the kitchen table, Darcy cleared her throat and lifted a finger. "Uh, Thor, not to be Captain Obvious here, but shouldn't you, like, take off your dead bro's creepy-ass dog muzzle before he's gonna be able to tell us why he's, uh, not dead? Unless he's gonna eat us all or start firin' his laser, in which case, by all means, keep it on."
And that was when Loki turned and full-on looked at her, and all Darcy could do was stare back, slack jawed. The expression in his eyes was unreadable, but something about it made Darcy feel uncharacteristically self-conscious, like the very core of her being was getting judged. It wasn't just that this was the first time he had actually acknowledged her existence since he arrived on her balcony. No, this was something more, something unnamable, something neither friendly nor hostile, but not entirely neutral, either.
Loki's head twitched to the side as Thor's fingers came in contact with his neck, and he withdrew his gaze from Darcy.
What the fuck was that? Darcy thought to herself, suddenly feeling very small and naked in her chair. Nobody, nobody, had ever been able to intimidate her just by looking at her, and this both worried and impressed her greatly. She now studied Loki out of the corner of her eye, feeling a grudging respect begin to grow inside of her for the dude, whom she had previously thought of as nothing more than an alien nerd who had gotten beaten up one too many times by his jock brother.
Thor worked on removing his brother's intricate mask, and Darcy's heart thumped in anticipation. By this point, she was probably as excited as Thor to hear Loki's story (and she had to admit, a part of her was also excited to see if Loki was hot, because hello, Norse god).
That is why she was severely disappointed when, once the muzzle was off, Loki remained turned away from her and silent. He did, however, raise his cuffed wrists to Thor's face expectantly, and Darcy thought she even saw a tiny smirk play across the corner of his mouth.
Thor appeared to be in deep deliberation for a long moment, as he considered Loki's silent request. Finally, he turned to Volstagg and Fandral. "I require the keys to his shackles."
Fandral, who must've had the keys, shook his head. "I would advise against it, Thor. You do not know what he has done."
"Fandral, the keys," Thor said, in a voice that left no room for argument, and extended his hand.
Fandral looked at Thor like he was making the biggest mistake of his life, but complied nevertheless.
"You try anything, Brother . . . ." Thor said to Loki, as he began undoing his handcuffs.
Okay, that psycho is full-on smirking now, Darcy observed, and a wave of apprehension rolled over her. She shot a look at Fandral and Volstagg, but both men's attention was on the mischief god, and their hands grasped the hilts of their weapons. Okaaay, when Asgardian gods get scared, puny mortal Darcy gets scared, too. It wasn't that she didn't trust Thor—she would entrust him with her or Jane's life without a second thought—but was Thor forgetting that his beloved bro had tried to kill him, on several occasions, no less?
The shackles clunked to the kitchen floor, and Darcy actually squeezed her eyes shut in a momentary flash of fear. When she didn't feel herself catch on fire or explode into a thousand tiny pieces, she slowly opened one eye, and then the other. Whew. The room was still there, nothing was broken or on fire, and everyone was still alive. A smug-looking Loki rubbed his wrists where the handcuffs had been, and Darcy could see faint red marks there.
And still, the fucking bastard said nothing.
"I saw you die," Thor growled at him, emotion pure and unrestrained in his voice.
And then, with a sigh so dramatic you would think the mere idea of having a conversation with Thor insulted his intelligence, Loki spoke. "It wouldn't be the first time, would it, Brother?"
"You deceived me."
"Yes. Not that it was particularly difficult."
Darcy's eyebrow crept up her forehead. The sass is strong in this one.
"I don't understand!" Thor yelled, throwing his hands up in the air and beginning to pace the room. He came to a stop in front of Darcy's chair, and finally, finally, Loki faced in her direction again.
Darcy peeked around the side of Thor's massive shoulder in a manner which she hoped appeared entirely nonchalant, and stared as she got a clear view of Loki's face.
Oh . . . my.
What she saw was a smooth, clean-shaven visage, pale as death, with sharp, angular bone structure and light-colored eyes the specific shade of which she couldn't make out at this distance—green, perhaps? All this curtained by shoulder-length raven-black hair. Welp, looks like there's no such thing as an ugly Asgardian, after all, Darcy thought, because, despite looking somewhat like a crossbreed between a wraith and a vampire, Loki was still—yep, you'd guessed it—smokin' hot. Perhaps not a conventional heartthrob like the God of Thunder and Panty-Dropping or Fandral the Sexually Frustrated over there, but seriously, Asgard made evil look goood.
Darcy settled back in her chair, oddly satisfied that Loki passed the you-must-be-this-good-looking-to-come-from-Asgard requirement. Thor, meanwhile, began waving his arms up and down again. "Brother, why—"
But he was interrupted as a tiny brunette walked into the room, from the direction of the bedrooms, only to stop dead in her tracks as she witnessed the present congregation.
"My love!" Thor exclaimed.
Jane Foster's jaw was just about hitting the floor, her eyes glued to the God of Mischief.
"Good morning, Boo-Boo," Darcy cooed from her chair, giving Jane a sheepish smile and a small wave. "Lookit what the cat dragged in." She jerked her head toward Loki.
The small scientist, who currently wore plaid pajama pants to match Thor's and a gray T-shirt with the "Soft Kitty" song printed on the front (borrowed from Darcy—the laundry situation in the apartment was really very bad at the moment), appeared to gather her wits—and her jaw—and said, simply, "Hi."
There was a slight commotion as both Fandral and Volstagg rushed forward to greet her, Volstagg treating her to one of his characteristic hugs, and Fandral giving her a bow and a kiss on the knuckles, though, Darcy observed, this kiss was far more chaste than the one he'd given her.
Having given her greetings to the Warriors, er, Two, Jane strode up to Loki and jabbed him gingerly in the arm.
"Oh, I am real," he assured her, a small smirk lighting on his lips.
"I see you faked your death . . . again," Jane observed.
Loki's smirk turned into a full-on malicious, toothy grin, and he turned to Thor, saying, "Your woman knows me well, Brother!"
Jane, meanwhile, had just taken notice of the handcuffs lying on the floor. "And I see you didn't come here willingly."
"Yeah . . . what's up with that?" Darcy spoke up. "I've always assumed Loki would be into bondage, I just didn't think he'd be the one getting tied up."
If the Aesir in the room understood the sexual reference, they didn't show it. Jane, however, shot Darcy a quick disapproving look, and Loki appeared to leer at something in his mind's eye for a moment.
"Fandral? Volstagg? Well?" Thor said, turning to his friends.
"Loki has been charged with treason of the highest order!" Volstagg thundered, at which Loki was visibly pleased.
"Do not flatter him so, Volstagg," Fandral said. "Admittedly, his actions could have been far worse."
"All right," Volstagg stammered, "not of the highest order, then. But treason nevertheless!"
Jane squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her temples, and Darcy felt a pang of sympathy for the tiny astrophysicist. She knew it was too early in the morning for the Boss Lady to be dealing with this shit.
"What . . . exactly . . . has . . . he done?" Jane asked, sounding uncannily like William Shatner.
"He usurped the throne of Asgard, and ruled in secrecy under the guise of the Allfather from the day of your misadventures upon Svartalfheim and until all but three days ago, Lady Jane," Fandral answered her gravely.
"And what of my father?" Thor interjected quickly.
"Odin lives, and is well," Volstagg reassured him. "Furious as a Jotun in summer, but well."
"Waaait, back up a bit there, dudes," Darcy said, her eyebrows knitting together. "When you say 'ruled under the guise of the Allfather', do you mean Loco over there actually made himself look like Odin?"
Thor nodded. "One of many gifts passed down to him from Frigga, our mother."
"That's some crazy-ass shit," Darcy remarked. "But now I've gotta ask, if Lokes has been parading around as Odin for the past six months, where the hell was the real Odin?"
"Loki put a spell on him," Fandral said. "Put him into a . . . . How was it you put it, snake?"
Apparently, "snake" was a nickname Loki responded to readily, because he replied without so much as a pause. "Induced Odinsleep," he said. "Quite effective in neutralizing old men."
"You put our father under a sleeping curse?" Thor asked the mischief god. "When you could have taken his life, you spared it?"
Loki's lip curled into a mocking sneer. "Do not mistake a lack of resolve for mercy, Brother. I regret nothing more than not killing the old fool when I had the chance. But admittedly, I was not thinking clearly at the time."
Thor's bright-blue eyes softened, and Darcy wondered if he had picked up on some deeper meaning in Loki's words. If he had, it remained lost on her. But not one to keep her mouth shut for more than two minutes, Darcy already had another question bursting out her lips. "So, how'd they find out you weren't the real Odin?" she asked Loki, forcing herself to look straight into his face. "Did you try setting Asgard on fire or something?"
Loki did a flawless job of ignoring her, but thankfully, Fandral answered for him. "We would not have known he wasn't the Allfather, if an attempt had not been made on his life."
Jane, who had been cradling her face in her hands tiredly, now turned to Fandral with a pained expression etched into her face. "An attempt on Odin's life? Or did whoever it was know that Odin wasn't Odin?"
"Loki was the target," Fandral said. "It seems his disguise did not fool everyone."
"Who attempted the murder?" Thor asked, eyeing his brother with genuine concern.
"'Twas a highly skilled killer," Volstagg said. "With strong magic of his own. Loki barely escaped with his life."
"Did not," the Asgardian prince in question huffed.
Volstagg snorted. "You had to call upon all your magical abilities to defeat him, sacrificing your Odin illusion and whatever spell you had keeping the real Allfather in eternal sleep."
Loki shrugged. "I'd sacrifice just about anything to save my life."
"You say that like it's a good thing . . . ." Darcy mumbled, only to get ignored, again.
"I assume my brother did not spare the killer's life?" Thor asked, earning a tiny smirk of approval from Loki. "Do you have any idea as to the assassin's identity? As to who hired him?"
Volstagg shut his eyes heavily and shook his shaggy head. "The killer was not a hired assassin. He came of his own volition. He was a bounty hunter."
Thor blinked. "A bounty hunter? Come to lay claim to my brother's life?"
Fandral, who had had the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers, sighed and said, "Thor, your father's spies in the darker realms have confirmed it: There is a great reward being promised to whoever can procure Loki's head." A pause. "Just the head."
The room fell into an awkward silence. From somewhere in the vicinity of the bedrooms came the sound of a door opening. Darcy heard Erik's voice mumble something about not drinking coffee before bed, and then the sound of another door opening and closing. Ten seconds later came the sound of a flush, then running water, and then Erik must've disappeared back into his bedroom, because the silence in the apartment reached an otherworldly level of awkward.
Feeling like she would explode if somebody didn't say something soon, Darcy cleared her throat. "Jesus, whom did he piss off that much? Oh, wait, that's probably a dumb question, isn't it?"
"It is an excellent question, Lady Darcy," Fandral said, "but one you best take up with Loki."
"None of this explains why you brought him here," Jane pointed out.
"Odin's orders," Volstagg barked. "The bounty hunter killed ten guards to get to Loki, and it is obvious keeping Loki imprisoned on Asgard would only bring more contenders to his head. Asgard already holds and protects the Tesseract, and that is danger enough for our people."
"Uh, here's a thought," Darcy said. "Why doesn't Odin just give Loki to whomever it is that wants him so bad? He'd solve a god problem and make some extra cash on the side, right?"
Volstagg and Fandral both leered at her approvingly, but then Fandral said, "The Allfather knows of Loki's involvement in the battle upon Svartalfheim, and that he directly helped save the nine realms from a fate of eternal darkness. It is only because of this that Loki has been spared his life."
"Okay, that's great, but then what, Odin goes and tells you to take him to Earth instead? Doesn't he know what happened last time ole Lokes decided to pay us a visit? He must really hate us mortals something awful."
"The Allfather did not specify that Loki be taken to Midgard," Fandral said. "He demanded only that he depart Asgard. Loki was the one to ask to be taken to Thor."
Jane and Darcy exchanged a look that clearly said, "Are you shitting me?"
"Is this true, Brother?" Thor asked, his big eyes filling with hope.
There was a long pause, but finally, "Yes," Loki said.
"Uh, why?" Jane asked, taking the words straight out of Darcy's mouth.
The God of Lies shrugged. "Midgard needed to be warned."
"Oh, hell, no," Darcy said, suddenly very furious. "You're here because you want Thor to protect your sorry ass, not out of good will, and don't you pretend otherwise." She shook her finger at Loki like a mother scolding a child. Loki ignored her. Bristling, Darcy continued, now addressing Fandral and Volstagg. "So, what, Odin thought it'd be totally swell to just drop this psycho on Thor's head? Wow, it's Thor he must really hate, not mortals."
Volstagg and Fandral suddenly looked rather guilty, and Darcy wondered if there was some truth to what she had just said. She swallowed. "Odin doesn't actually hate Thor, does he?"
Turning to Thor, Fandral said, "Thor, your father urges you to come home and accept the responsibility of the throne."
"Then you shall tell him, my friend, that while I am forever in his service, my place remains here, on Midgard, protecting its people."
Fandral inclined his head toward Thor in a solemn bow. "It shall be done, my friend."
Thor clapped a hand onto Fandral's shoulder, and then pulled the man into a one-armed hug. "It was good to see you again, Fandral."
"You, as well, Thor," Fandral replied, patting Thor on the back.
"Volstagg," Thor said, letting go of Fandral and turning to the veritable giant in the room. "Send my regards to your family. I hope they are faring well."
"Not as well as they would if you came back with us, right now," Volstagg said, crossing his great arms over his abdomen.
Thor shook his shaggy blond head. "You know I cannot."
"Yes, well, 'twas worth a try," Volstagg said. He then uncrossed his arms, and his lips broke into a huge grin. "Oh, you know I cannot hate you, although you are a deserting dog."
Thor gave him a smile that was both thankful and apologetic, and Volstagg, shoving unceremoniously past Loki, wrapped his arms around the thunder god so tightly, Darcy swore she could hear even Thor's ribs cracking.
As Volstagg and Fandral proceeded to deliver their farewells to Jane, Darcy felt an icy dread descend deep into the bowels of her stomach. A major supervillain, back on Earth . . . . Was their little planet ever going to catch a break?
"I'm glad you're here, Brother," Thor said to Loki, at that very moment.
I'm not, Darcy thought, slumping in her chair.
She couldn't slump for long, however, because then it was apparently her turn to be told goodbye.
Volstagg approached her first, and she immediately stuck out her hand, lest she be picked up and crushed again. "Nice seeing you again, big guy."
"It was a pleasure, my lady," Volstagg replied, and enthusiastically took her hand into his.
Darcy decided then and there that he must've never shaken hands with a human before, unless, of course, near shoulder dislocation was part of the custom on Asgard.
Next came Fandral, who eyed her cleavage so lasciviously, she was pretty sure that's what getting eye-raped felt like. In response, she tried giving off her best has-a-boyfriend vibes, but either she failed miserably, or Fandral simply ignored them.
"Lady Darcy, should Thor ever lay claim to the throne of Asgard, with Lady Jane by his side, it would make me the happiest man in the nine realms if you were to come with them, so that I may lay eyes on your beautiful face once more."
"Yeah, okay, buddy," Darcy said, forcing a smile. I don't think it's my face you'd be laying your eyes on.
Fandral reached for her hand, but she stuck out a fist instead. "Bump it," she said, in response to the confused expression on his face.
Giving her a smile that could probably impregnate a lesser mortal, he bumped her knuckles lightly, presented her with a small bow, and then he and Volstagg headed for the balcony doorway.
Once outside, Fandral looked up at the sky, and said, "Heimdall, we are ready."
"Hey, Thor," Volstagg said, suddenly turning to face his royal friend with a grin. "Fantastic shirt."
Then came the rainbow light again, and the two warriors vanished in its midst, leaving nothing in their wake except an intricate pattern burnt into the concrete floor of the balcony.
Oh, and one very disgruntled-looking God of Mischief.
So, that happened. Leave a review if you enjoyed and/or wish me to continue... whatever this is. As things stand, I foresee way more Loki/Darcy interaction in the next chapter. TBH, this chapter was kinda shitty in that regard. :S
Thanks to all for reading thus far!