Hey! This is a story I wrote for the Steve/Loki Fan Work Exchange! This would be for the lovely Michi~ One of the prompts she had asked for was for Loki to discover that Steve could lift Thor's hammer. She probably wanted something a lot more romantic, but there is no romance in this thing at all, just utter nonsense... Sorry ;n; However, I upped the humor (or at least I hope I did) to make up for it. I also made a flufftastic animation to make up for the lack of romance as well, which is on my Deviantart gallery, if anyone is interested.

I'd also like to thank my beta, Curlscat, for correcting my horrible spelling and grammar. I know she probably ripped out her hair at all the parts where I switched tenses. XD Sorry Kat!

Either way, I hope you enjoy!

Patience is Certainly a Virtue

Summary: Whoever coined the phrase "Patience is a virtue" knew what they were talking about.

Rating: K+ / PG13

Warning: Some swearing, a little bit of fighting (nothing too bad), and a half baked scheme

Whoever coined the phrase "Patience is a virtue" knew what they were talking about.

As a tactical person, Loki prided himself on learning the art of waiting and knowing when was the most opportune time to strike.

Unlike the warriors of Asgard, who had a tendency to slaughter first and ask questions later, Loki had discovered that if one was patient enough, one could win the battle… permanently. Loki had used this tactic in many a fight against his enemies (and a few occasions in which he left Thor on the marble floors of the sparing rooms, shell-shocked and dumbfounded).

Oh, but nothing could compare to the thrill of a well laid out plan. Even at a young age Loki had known the importance of being patient when planning out his little ploys. The feeling of anxiety bubbling up as he set his trap into motion, the questions of, "Could this really work?" and, "Will they fall for such a thing?" always flooding through his mind. Then he would hear a startled gasp or scream, a yelp or perhaps a flurry of curses and the corner of his lips would twitch upwards as a feeling of complete superiority and arrogant intelligence filled every crevice of his being.

So it goes without saying that Loki considered himself a patient person. He could wait for hours, days, weeks, even months if need be.

However, if he really wanted something to the point where it became more of a need then a want (and God forbid if Loki actually wanted something that badly) then all of his teachings, that little reasoning voice in his head (which he kept thinking was dead, but no, it was very much alive and annoying), the tactical mentality he worked so hard to perfect, was casually tossed out the nearest window when he sought after something he desperately craved.

Because it cannot be forgotten that Loki was raised as royalty, a prince of Asgard no less, and when he wanted something, he expected not only to get it, but for it to be handed to him delicately perched atop a velvet pillow, while the peasant groveled at his feet, honored to give such a present to someone as high and mighty as Loki.

He would forget about the tactical advantage of being patient if it meant he could get what he wanted, what he allegedly needed, faster.

This was one of those occasions.

Loki wondered how he even ended up in this situation. Body swapped with the ever righteous Captain America, gripping his own wrists that the Captain was currently using to try and pulverize Mjolnir into Loki's (well, it was technically Steven's) blonde head.

After successfully spinning and flinging the other away (The good Captain's body, Loki admitted gleefully, was stronger then it appeared), Loki finally recalled his latest failure.

It had been a gorgeous day. In fact, too gorgeous for Steve and Thor to spend inside it seemed. Loki (in one of his many shape-shifted disguises) just happened upon the two sparing in a field in Central park. He was but one of a crowd of onlookers, watching the fight unfold. It was a rare opportunity to see superheroes practice their skills. Loki snatched it, knowing full well that such a chance would indeed help him when facing the Avengers again. Knowing an enemy's fighting style was always useful when getting caught in a hand-to-hand combat situation.

He knew Thor's fighting style inside and out, the only problem was that he tended to be spontaneous, making it difficult to figure out his next move. Though the green eyed trickster already had a method in which to deal with that crutch.

Steven, though, held Loki's attention. They way he paused before making a move, how he always waited until Thor acted first, the way he'd slightly change his stance to act accordingly, and when his brow furrowed when he was analyzing Thor's moves, these were the signs of a tactician.

Loki remembered smirking delightfully as the Captain forced the oafish god to the ground with a sudden tackle. Yes, a true calculating individual. The trickster was almost impressed.

Almost.

Thor laughed boisterously, and congratulated his comrade on a job well done. Thor, however, failed to notice that the good Captain wasn't paying attention. He was retrieving something on the grassy field. When he'd brought it back for the thunder god, Loki wished on all the nine realms that he had brought a camera with him.

Thor's face was indeed priceless; a little treasure Loki would ingrain into his mind for all eternity to laugh and mock at. His mouth gaped open as if he were a dying fish, as his hand, which was originally out to give Steven a "hand shake" (as Midgardian's like to call it), was now pointing at the other blonde in disbelief, completely an utterly dumbfounded. It was such a beautiful sight.

Then Loki realized that he was also wearing the same. Exact. Expression (save the pointing finger).

Steven Rogers, otherwise known as the righteous Captain America (or the "World's Oldest Boy Scout" to those who were less fond of the man), had done the impossible.

He walked over to Mjolnir, bent down, and with a grunt, lifted the hammer off the ground and brought it over to Thor with a casual, "Sorry about that. Here's your hammer."

It just wasn't possible.

Captain America had picked up Mjolnir.

A mortal was able to pick up Mjolnir.

So it was then, that Loki began to plan accordingly.

He now admitted, however, to being a bit hasty when it came to the overall planning. He admitted to being a bit overconfident when he found that body-swap spell, and decided to favor that one instead of going through the rest of his books to perhaps see if there was a better spell. He admitted that perhaps it wasn't such a good idea to just sneak into Rogers' apartment and outright confront the man instead of waiting for the blonde to go to bed. He admits that even though Rogers didn't know how his powers worked, he sure didn't know how Steven worked as he was chased across Manhattan towards Stark Tower.

He admitted that he was, indeed, a little impatient.

But Odin, damn it all! He wanted that hammer and he wanted to have it now!

And thanks to that want, that need, Loki had failed to take into account that the body-swap spell was just that, a body-swap. He had forgotten that Mjolnir only let those who were deemed worthy to wield its power. And when it meant worthy, it did not mean a physical kind of worthy.

So when the God of Mischief entered the training room in Steven's hijacked body, and found Thor cooling down alone, Mjolnir resting at his side, and reached for the hammer only to find that he couldn't even budge the damned thing, did Loki realize that he had made a terrible mistake.

Again, "Patience is a virtue."

Utter. Genius.

Everything went downhill from there.

Five minutes later, an out of breath, blue-eyed Loki crashed into the room. He looked not only like hell, but he also managed to look quite angry and menacing (a bit strange on Loki's part because, wow, he never knew just how scary he could look when he was angry). Quickly, he seized Mjolnir off the bench it had been laying on and charged after a green-eyed Steve.

Thor watched from the sidelines, face contorted in the same flabbergasted expression from the other day. If one was silent enough, the sound of his thoughts could be heard, translated loosely to, "-The hell is going on?!"

Now back to where they began.

"I swear! Of all the things you've pulled, Loki…" The trickster's voice without its accent sounded strange on Steve's (or was it Loki's?) tongue as he stood.

"Yes, let us talk about my botched tactical skills instead of the blatant truth that you are holding the mighty Mjolnir, all, might I add, while in my body!" Loki grimaced at the inflection coming from his (or perhaps Steve's) voice.

Steve (Loki?) swung Mjolnir, but Loki (…Steve?) caught his wrist before an impact came. The two were at a standstill once again, growling, glaring, any word that began with "g" that meant malcontent, at each other. They pushed back and forth, neither willing to back off or back down.

Suddenly, the two men each felt a hand on the back of their heads simultaneously.

Oh…

Loki had been wondering when Thor would intervene.

Both heads suddenly met each other with such a force that Loki and Steve claimed to see stars for a good half hour. They fell to the ground, clutching and rubbing their skulls, bruises already forming.

Mjolnir, which was dropped carelessly to the floor, was gently scooped up by a large hand and placed in a holster. Thor patted the metal as he strolled out of the room, leaving the two men behind to discus an important matter regarding a certain inscription on Mjolnir's side.

"Curse this fragile, mortal skull!"

"Just shut up and give me my body back, will ya?"