Hi guuys! Just so you know, I don't own ANYTHING HERE. It all belongs to Marvel. This is also posted on Ao3 so if you've read it there, this is the same. I changed few things. Please comment, be kind and enjoy this thingy that I did.
Three knocks.
Darcy fixed her eyes on the door, gulping air. Mouth agape, she froze.
What. The. Fuck.
That was the invisible door. Or at least, the door she tried to keep invisible.
Right, every possible surface was orientated to that door. And she couldn't help but feel unnerved if she got her back to that freaking hole in the wall.
That was the door which proved she had to share apartment with a crazy mass murderer norse alien.
And said alien had just .it.
Her eyes returned to the book she was currently reading. The Prince, by Machiavelli. Then they wandered to her body. Black yoga pants. Blue woollen stockings, knee-length. Grey old sweater, long and pretty horrible, but warm. A -very- messy bun on the top of her head.
She was wearing her indoor clothes, her indoor hair and her indoor attitude.
Knock, knock, knock.
Three, faster and louder.
Shit.
Darcy left the book on the couch and plodded towards the door with short, silent steps.
"I know you are there, mortal. I can hear your breathing." He said. Darcy stopped breathing briefly, but her pride got in the way.
"Are you going to kill me, alien? After all the moments we've shared together?" She said.
Sass. Her best weapon.
"You think I'd be knocking on this meager door if those were my intentions?" He sounded slightly, slightly amused.
Darcy thought about it.
"With you, I don't know. You are pretty resourceful when it comes to murder."
Audible sigh on the other side. Then a thump. Was he banging his forehead against the door?
"I require…your advice."
Well, that was surprising.
Darcy opened the door a little. Just a tiny bit. A green eye welcomed her. Wow, she hadn't noticed Loki's green eyes before.
"About what? If it's about dating, just go, smile, be polite and don't try to kill the poor girl. Or boy. Whatever floats your boat."
"It is not about… courting. It is about food."
Darcy hesitated. Fuck, dude sounded sincere. And utterly annoyed. That, she liked.
"If I open this door…will you kill me?"
He huffed.
"I need your assistance. I won't kill you now that you are necessary."
That was Loki, the Little Shit. She could handle that Loki.
"Right. Move aside." Darcy opened the door completely and stood there. She felt the anxiety rising in her chest, almost choking her and twisting her stomach into knots.
That was a boundary. She had the feeling if she crossed it, nothing would ever be the same. Loki was there, on the other side. Staring at her. Taking in her clothes. Then, his eyes on hers.
"I need you to come in."
Awkward. Darcy raised both hands.
"Okay. Just, you know, it's weird." She walked in.
Loki's apartment was…empty. Yeah, the right furniture was there. He had a couch, a table, a tv… It smelled good, too. Like… a clean place, with every possible surface shining and shimmering and perfectly placed.
But he had no decoration. Empty walls. Everything was black and white. No colourful details.
It didn't feel like a home, it didn't have Loki's soul imprinted in it. Wasn't that the definition of home? A place/person that had part of your soul?
And, now that Darcy was looking at it, it was rather sad.
Loki cleared his throat, and Darcy jumped a little.
"Sorry… Whatever did you need me for?"
"I was… searching for some recipe... I am currently preparing my evening meal, and since I have time, I wanted to make something tasteful." Stated Loki.
Darcy tried not to make any faces. She was astonished. Prince Loki actually cooking his own meals.
"And…?" she asked. Loki eyed her.
"Don't be that surprised, mortal. I do need to eat every day." He snapped. Darcy raised an eyebrow.
"You were telling me about a recipe, alien face." He glared at her.
"Yes. I am preparing roast beef. And I can't properly cook the so called Yorkshire pudding, which traditionally accompanies the roast beef."
Darcy was so unimpressed. Dude had an English accent, and of course, he had to make English food.
"You do realize this is all earthling food, right? Mortal rubbish, lowly stuff and everything. Although I must say you researched kinda lot."
He furrowed his eyebrows, confused.
"What am I supposed to eat? I am in this horrible piece of rock you seem so fond of, and I find an incredible lack of Asgardian delicacies."
Darcy rolled her eyes.
Such a stuck-up asshole. With those green eyes and, Darcy was realizing, comfortable clothing.
That was wrong. He didn't wear stuff like that. Like black sweatpants and a white t-shirt with the inscription "It's okay to stare. I can't believe I'm still alive either."
At that she giggled, even when she realized he could misinterpret it.
Well, he was really pleasant to the eyes. Even eye-candy, she decided. When had that happened? She, thinking Loki was hot...
He was openly confused, and she felt the need to explain.
"Have you seen your shirt? Have you read the inscription on it?"
A slow and surprisingly mischievous smile conquered his lips. And, shit, his eyes sparkled when he smiled. Darcy wasn't prepared for that!
"I have indeed." He said, and she laughed.
"It's… funny, in some twisted way. Okay, I will help you out, just because I like that shirt."
And maybe I would like to take it off… I mean, to have it for myself, of course.
Darcy shook her head and got rid of those feelings. She needed to focus, and she needed to stop staring at the norse dude. Above all, she needed to stop realizing little details about him that made her like the guy. For example, his eyes. And the way that shirt molded his muscles (something she hadn't had the opportunity to see before, not that she cared..). Or the pants his ass, for that matter.
He wasn't cut like Thor, he was more subtle. He was very strong, but you couldn't tell that in every situation. Yeah, he was definitely very different from his adopted brother. In many things. He spoke lower, but wiser. He had table manners. He read and he planned beforehand, something Thor would never do. He was sarcastic and cold where Thor was all anger and fire. Where Thor was loud and bright, Loki was a shadow.
But, deep in her mind, Darcy knew Loki was more intelligent. And that made him more interesting.
And that was really, really dangerous.
Because Darcy had a thing for interesting people, and she didn't want Loki to become one of them. She had fought with everything she had to not be interested in Loki.
And when she stepped on his apartment, she felt that was about to change.
"… and I cannot make the right mix, apparently."
His tone was annoyed at the last words. As if the food had taken it with him.
She observed the mix. It was full of lumps, and the colour was awful. And was that oregano?
"Have you followed the instructions correctly?" She asked.
Loki stared sheepishly at the ground, although he didn't lose his haughty bearing.
The advantages of being raised as a prince.
"I may have differed from them at some point." He conceded reluctantly.
Darcy bit her lip to stop a giggle.
"Right, well, I know you hate rules and everything because you are the god of chaos and whatever, but in this case you must follow the recipe to the letter. So, we have to start again with all this." She poured the mix in the sink and washed the plastic bowl. "You're lucky I lived in London for a while. I can make Yorkshire pudding in no time."
"I've read about that place. London. It seems incredible, such a small island with such a great power, in its time." Loki commented, a longing shine on his eyes.
Loki was making small talk with her. Loki made small talk. Loki was…trying to be nice?
"What do you want from me?" She suddenly asked. She cracked four eggs and poured them in the bowl.
There was a moment of silence, while Darcy added the milk.
"Right now? I am really hungry and you are a very useful cooking instrument." He answered.
"I mean, with this… talking stuff. You hate me, remember?" Darcy needed to remind him that fact. He hated her. She was the one who tried to teach him "Midgardian nonsenses", but usually they ended up killing each other with sarcasm.
Silence. Darcy whisked the eggs and the milk, and then added a pinch of salt.
"I suppose I don't feel… threatened by your presence. Not anymore, at least." He said carefully.
Darcy had to make a major effort not to stop whisking the mix and turn around, shocked.
She realized the feeling was mutual. Perhaps not always, but in that moment she didn't feel a single threat coming from him. And she was giving him her back.
"Well, right now, I don't feel threatened by you."
And suddenly a very stupid impulse made her grab a handful of flour and toss it to Loki.
He froze, his eyes low for a moment. Flour on his hair, on his shirt, on his pants and even on the floor. Darcy felt her nose being filled with the flour and almost sneezed.
When he looked up, she was terrified.
I'VE JUST THROWn FLOUR TO THE MASS MURDERER ALIEN GOD OF MISCHIEF AND LIES AND I'M SO DEAD. She thought.
"You should be very scared of me right now. I have the power in this moment, and I can make you the worst Yorkshire pudding you've ever tasted." She warned.
He stalked towards her until she was cornered against the kitchen counter.
"Do you?" He asked, his voice low and menacing.
"Do I what?"
Darcy tried to escape to the right, but his arm wouldn't let her.
"Do you have the power right now?" He said, and suddenly she felt something powdery all around, and definitely had to contain another sneeze.
The little shit was having revenge!
He had asked for it, then.
"Definitely, buddy." She smacked an eggshell in his chest with a cracking noise. Hard and soft chest at the same...fuck!
He had crashed an egg. On her head. An entire egg. With yolk and white and eggshell. And then he backed a few steps, laughing sarcastically. The fluid started dripping down her cheeks.
"Allow me to disagree, mortal."
Two could play that game. She smiled wickedly and grabbed another egg. To hell with it, she thought. With her left hand she took another handful of flour and then she lunged at him with a ferocious cry.
Loki tried to dodge, but the kitchen wasn't that big, and he ended up with the face smeared with a thick mix of egg and flour.
"You were saying, smartass?"
And then Darcy took off towards her apartment. If she could just close the door, she could hide and probably get a bath and avoid death another night.
But then she heard a maniacal laughter behind her, and she was doomed.
It took one look back. Just one, and she was screaming and laughing at the top of her lungs.
Loki grabbed her rather roughly by the waist and placed her on his right shoulder, while she tried to kick him off.
"Now, stop struggling or you will make it worse. If you behave, I will let you have some of my dinner." He promised. He was making his way to the kitchen.
"You think I trust you?" She managed to say while still trying to kick him. He held her legs strongly and she gave up. "Knowing you MO, you'll probably give me the leftovers. Promise you'll share half of your dinner with me...and half of the dessert as well. And maybe I will help you. "
He chuckled and put her down.
"You think I care if you want to help me or not? Cook, mortal."
She frowned in disbelief.
"You think you are so menacing and dangerous? Half of everything you'll eat, and we may have a deal. Alien."
Darcy was having fun. With Loki. Fuck logic, she thought. She was going to make the best of the situation. He seemed to consider it for a moment.
"Fine, then. We have a deal."
Oh, but he was smirking in that way… and she was a coward.
"I didn't say we…" She started, but he took a step towards her and narrowed his eyes.
"You did. You said we may, and I said yes. Get over it."
"Fuck me, I've just made a deal with you? That's like… even worse than the devil."
"Yes, you have. And maybe later. Now, cook." With that, he winked and left the kitchen. Darcy thought a minute about his words and then she gasped in surprise.
Maybe later.
She had made the best Yorkshire pudding of her life, and the roast beef was ready by the time she finished it. The entire apartment smelled delicious, and, while waiting for the pudding to be ready, Darcy had put on some music from her iPhone and she was dancing slightly to the rythm.
Needless to say, she was starving and dirty. She had washed her face in the sink, but her hair was a mess. Loki, of course, had gone to the bathroom to take a shower.
"Hey, Prince not-charming-at-all, dinner's ready and I am friking starving. Get your ass here or I will eat everything." She yelled from the living room, knowing Loki wasn't that far away. And he hated loud people.
He came out of the bedroom in a simple black shirt and grey pants, and sat down.
"You know, for a woman, you have quite the lungs." He snapped, and sat down.
She grinned sweetly.
"You do know how to make one feel good about herself." Darcy said, while filling her plate. "Now eat and tell me if you like it."
Loki shook his head, not bothering to answer, and tried the food. He chewed a couple of times and then he nodded at her.
"Acceptable...for a Midgardian meal."
Darcy rolled her eyes (she did that a lot around him).
"Acceptable? C'mon, you loved the food. You're gonna beg for more in a while."
He stared at her, intently.
But she wasn't about being intimidated by his eyes, so she kept her gaze up.
"I think that will be you, Darcy Lewis." He replied, his voice even.
So that was how lust felt if it smacked you in the face. Darcy blushed bright red and lowered her eyes, fixating them on the food. Luckily she would forget how she felt when he said that. Like a dragon had woken up inside her and started burning all her entrails down.
After a while of eating in silence (arrogant from his side, successfully intimidated from hers), she stood up and picked up the plates.
"Don't get used to it. It's just for one night." She warned while making her way to the kitchen.
"Then I will enjoy it." He answered smoothly.
He stood there the entire time while she washed the dishes, and then he cleaned up the room while Darcy talked about other typical foods she could make. Darcy could tell he was interested by the way he tried not to ask questions and failed.
It was almost midnight when she decided to go back to her apartment, after he had finished cleaning. She needed a shower and some rest. Grabbing her iPhone and turning it off, she started to walk to her apartment.
"Time to sleep, Nerd. Or shower in my case. Someone spilled an egg on my head." She said a moment later.
He faked a surprised expression.
"I can't see why someone would do that to you. Evidently you're the most discreet and quiet maiden the universe has ever seen."
"Well, there are some crazy dudes who would do it just because they can." She laughed.
Then both headed to the interconnecting door.
Once there, when she was about to close it, she ran two steps and kissed Loki on the cheek. He froze in the spot and gasped inadvertently.
"Believe it or not, you've made my Saturday night fun and memorable, Loki. Thank you very much."
Loki. The name tasted good on her. She remained there.
They were close. So close, she could see he had some freckles here and there. So close she could (finally) confirm that his eyes were not only green, but blue and brown as well. So close, she could feel his warm breath on her face. So close she could smell his scent: mint soap, and musk.
She felt a hand on her waist. Subtle and surprisingly gentle. He took another step closer, as if he could not avoid it anymore. As if he had given up.
And, to hell with it, she had given up long ago. Probably the first time her subconscious found him interesting and fun.
His thin lips were almost brushing hers when he spoke, the faint contact making her shiver. She couldn't keep her eyes off his lips, her brain wondering what would they feel like pressing against hers.
"You have made my saturday night less...lonely. Thank you, Darcy Lewis."
And with that, she closed her eyes and he finally kissed her.
Darcy ran her hands softly up his chest and tangled her fingers on his hair. He hugged her stronger and she sighed.
He felt good. Warm, complicated, a bit dark, but good.
And she had never, ever, felt like that with anyone before. All her previous kissing had always felt... wrong. In the limits of her head, of her mind, where she could feel it but not place it, there had always been that feeling of… unsuitability. Like when you try to fix a large wound by placing a small bandage on top of it. She had always known the guy wasn't the right one when she had kissed him, although sometimes she didn't care.
But that was different. There was no alarm in her head, no weird feelings.
And it was intoxicating.