Wow-it's been a long time since I've posted any stories! This is my first attempt at a Loki/Darcy story-I hope I've managed to stay true to the spirit of the characters. This story is rated M for a reason-no kiddie eyes, please!
Disclaimer: I do not own (to my deepest regrets) the characters used in this story. I have simply borrowed them for a bit of fun.
Last but not least-apologies on my first post, which was a formatting nightmare. This version should be much easier on the eyes :)
A Little Christmas Spirit
Tony Stark sure knew how to throw a party.
Live jazz band, ten tables of finger food (and not the crap you buy at the grocery store at four bucks a box, either), and more booze than you'd see at a frat house if they'd won the lottery.
All this for a cozy Christmas Eve get-together with just the Avengers and a few extra friends.
Darcy leaned back against the booze table-her personal favourite-and watched the fête unfold. She was on her third Cosmo and was at the point where she was pleasantly buzzed but not outrageous. Well, no more than usual, anyways.
Jane had agreed to let her attend after weeks of Bart & Lisa Simpson-like begging (canIpleasegotoocanIpleasegotoocanIpleasegotoo), as long as she didn't do anything to embarrass the astrophysicist, or her God of Thunder boyfriend, or Tony, or any of the other Avengers at the party.
True to her word, she was going to savour the final Cosmo and then stick to soda and cranberry juice. Let it be known that Darcy Lewis actually does have a little responsible person deep down inside her-she just chooses to ignore it more often than not.
She swept her gaze across the large room, observing the other party-goers. Jane, Stark and Dr. Banner were off in one corner intensely discussing something most likely very cerebral, Thor and Hawkeye were standing at one of the food tables discussing weapons (Thor was still working on his 'indoor voice') while eating a small country's worth of canapés, and Pepper was keeping Captain America company.
At the moment where she realised someone was missing, that same person came to stand beside her. "This isn't like you, standing back and watching."
Darcy jumped, but managed to do so without spilling any of her drink (it helped that she'd already downed most of it). She turned to look at Natasha who, despite the festive theme of the party, was still all clad in black as if she'd need to run out at any moment and… do whatever it was that she did. "I don't really fit in here," she admitted. "I mean, I don't have Stephen Hawking's IQ, and I can't tear buildings down like they're made of Lego. I'm just… Darcy. The intern."
The Russian shrugged. "You're probably also the happiest one here. Except for Thor, maybe. He's been in a pretty good mood since…" She stiffened, her eyes growing cold. "Since he came back."
And there it was, the proverbial elephant in the room. The reason why no one-not even Stark-was letting loose as much as they would usually have: Loki had returned.
When Jane and Thor had returned to Earth after their escape from Svartalfheim, they'd shared the news of Loki's death with Darcy and Erik-much to the latter's delight. Once Malekith had been defeated and all the hubbub had died down, Jane had told Darcy all about what had transpired on Asgard and Svartalfheim, including Loki's apparent sacrifice and redemption. Had Thor been the one to tell the story Darcy would have been skeptical-he did, after all, have a blind spot the size of Texas when it came to his brother. Thing was, though, Jane hated Loki, hated him for what he'd done to Puente Antiguo, to New York, and especially for what he'd done to Thor. But he'd protected her by shielding her body with his own, apparently without hesitation.
After that, Jane had understood what it was Thor had seen in Loki all along-the shadow of the better man he'd once been, before he went Asgard's version of "going postal".
And then, weeks later, Loki had mysteriously reappeared on the roof of Stark Tower, naked and with no memory of how he'd gotten there. He'd remembered everything up to, and including, his death, but nothing afterwards. He'd spent the next few weeks under observation-medical, psychological and judicial, after which he was given shelter by Stark himself, who had mumbled something about everyone deserving fresh starts.
Even Darcy hadn't needed to have that one explained; the story of Tony Stark's transformation from a spoiled brat to the man he now was (still a spoiled brat, but a better man) was well-known.
She returned her attention to the redhead who was standing beside her, also observing the room. "I understand you don't like Loki, especially after what he did to Clint," she said, shrinking internally at the glower Romanoff threw her way. "But don't you believe in giving someone a chance to redeem themselves? From what I understand, most of the people in this room have had that luxury."
"Most of the people in this room didn't play with people's minds while trying to enslave a whole planet."
"Touché," Darcy admitted. There wasn't much she could say to that.
The other woman walked away having obviously decided that Darcy was no longer worth her time, which left the young woman on her own clutching an empty martini glass. That she stuck out like a sore thumb was an understatement; she couldn't believe it, but at that moment she actually regretted hounding Jane to tag along. What had she actually thought would happen? That all these superheroes would suddenly take an interest in her? That they'd be lining up to hear all about her zany adventures as an Poli-Sci undergrad intern?
Then a thought occurred to her. Or, more accurately, a plan-a plan that would probably fit Jane's definition of "bad decision", but Darcy was just drunk enough to brush aside any doubts.
She grabbed an unopened bottle of wine and dropped it unceremoniously in her bag and headed for one of the snack tables.
Yup, she thought to herself, Darcy, this has to be one of the stupidest ideas you've ever had. Hurry up before the Cosmos wear off...
He could hear the music despite the fact that two floors separated the party from his apartment. Loki didn't mind, though. For once, Stark had shown good taste rather than the noise which he usually played (too loudly, at that).
He sat in his chair and closed his eyes, allowing the melody to settle his frayed nerves.
He'd been on edge all evening as a result of yet another row with his brother. It was no longer his intention to argue with Thor, but sometimes it was all too easy to fall back into old habits. Especially when Thor was trying to convince him to accompany him and Jane to a party where the Avengers made up all the guests.
Despite his brother's assurances to the contrary, Loki knew he could never redeem himself in the eyes of the Avengers. His crimes against them, against their Earth, had been too terrible for them to ever forgive, no matter how corrected of a path he chose to follow.
He accepted this truth. And he accepted Tony Stark's bargain-a roof under which he could stay, in exchange for whatever knowledge he could share. It had been an easy condition with which to agree because Loki was tired. He'd welcomed death, known he would never join his mother in Valhalla; after all, that's not for the Jotun. He wished he knew more about Jotun lore so he could know what to expect. Perhaps, he'd thought with a trace of dark humour, we keep coming back, never resting, never ceasing to exist.
His stomach grumbled, reminding him that he still hadn't eaten. He stood up and walked over to the fridge, examining its contents. Nothing looked appetising-most likely a result of his gloomy mood.
Just as he was pulling out a container of leftover Chinese food-he really needed to learn how to cook-there was a knock at his door.
Sighing, he put the container back in the fridge, closing the door harder than he intended. Tonight, more than usual, he had little patience for his brother's persistence that he socialise.
Loki walked to the door and opened it roughly. "Thor, I have already…"
But it wasn't Thor at the door. It was Jane's assistant, whose name eluded him, wearing a red Santa hat and holding some sort of container.
This night couldn't come to an end soon enough.
As they stood there staring at each other, Darcy's arms were about to give out. The tray of food she held weighed about ten thousand pounds (maybe an exaggeration, but it was damn heavy) and it was due to the grace of God himself that she hadn't dropped it yet.
"Hi!" she said, her voice seeming too chipper even to her own ears. "I'm Darcy, Jane's assistant?"
"Yes," the man replied flatly. "I know you."
Another uncomfortable silence loomed, during which Darcy was seriously concerned about dropping the food. Loki must have noticed, because he reached out and took the container from her, holding it with ease in one hand.
"Thanks," she sighed, shaking her arm to restore its circulation. She looked back up at him and forced herself to kick her excitement level down about a dozen notches. Taking a deep breath, she said "Look, this is going to seem really forward of me, but while I was up there totally not belonging I thought about you stuck alone in your room and how you didn't really have the opportunity to come to the party and I thought 'hey, the two people who don't fit in might be able to have their own party', so here I am…"
Darcy's own words gave her pause. Now that she'd spoken them out loud-and now that she'd sobered up a bit-her genius plan seemed really lame. "Or, maybe not," she added in a rush. "I can just leave the food and the bottle of wine with you and go back upstairs and…"
"Wine?" Loki's features changed from that of indifference to keen interest-the kind that dogs got when you told them you had a treat in your pocket. Guys, she mused, they're all the same no matter what planet they're from.
"Yup. Right here in my bag-a bottle of red, most likely insanely expensive if it came from Tony's wine cellar." The young woman resisted the urge to pull it out and dangle it under his nose.
"Fine," he said, stepping back and granting her access to his apartment. "Come in."
Darcy stepped inside Loki's apartment and stopped dead in her tracks. It wasn't a simple apartment like she'd been given when she'd moved in to help Jane. This was a fricking condo. "Holy shit, you've got quite the digs, here. Guess it's true that it's who you know, and not what you know, huh?"
Loki placed the container of food on a counter and turned back to face her. "I believe it was intended more as a means to keep a watchful eye on me, rather than a reward."
The young woman nodded absentmindedly, her attention focused on a dagger that was hanging on a wall, a small spotlight aimed at it. Its hilt was intricately decorated with a hunting scene, with dogs and deer in a forest setting. She reached out to touch it when Loki's hand clasped hers firmly.
"Please do not touch this. It…" His face twisted as if he were in pain. "It was my mother's."
Frigga. The woman who had given her own life to protect Jane's. The woman who had died a hero's death, holding her own against Malekith in a swordfight until a second entered the fight. As well as she'd fought against one, she'd been outmatched against two. "I'm so sorry about what happened," she said, turning to look at him. "She was an amazing woman, from what everyone's told me; I can't imagine how hard it was for you. I heard the funeral was worthy of her, though...
He stiffened at her words, his face a mask. The grip on her wrist lessened but he did not let go. "I was still imprisoned at the time of her death. I was not permitted to attend her funeral."
"That's horrible!" Darcy blurted, incensed. "You're her son!"
He seemed to want to say more, but he simply smiled ruefully and released her. "If only it was so simple, Darcy." Turning back towards the kitchen, he pulled out two wine glasses and two plates. "Why don't we change our focus to this feast which you've brought me. Two outcasts, it would seem, sharing a meal-it seems fitting on Christmas Eve, does it not?"
The smile she gave him seemed to light up the whole room. It had been a long time since Loki had been in the presence of someone who didn't have an ulterior motive-a true friend. And how pathetic was it that his only true friend in centuries was a young woman he'd known for all of five minutes?
He returned her smile more easily than he thought possible, and it seemed to put her more at ease. Her shoulders relaxed and she walked over to help him.
"I grabbed a little bit of everything, not really knowing what you eat. I mean Thor is all 'red meat off the bones' and stuff, but as far as I know you could be a vegan."
"Did you really put this much thought my eating habits?" He hadn't meant to voice the question out loud-it really had been intended as a simple musing. What kind of girl was this, who spent more than a moment's thought about what a stranger might want to eat?
"Well, duh." She rolled her eyes, so childish, yet-despite knowing her for no more than a few minutes-he knew it was so Darcy. "I mean, if I'm gonna be grabbing food for someone why would I grab stuff they don't eat? Anyway," she smirked, giving him a sidelong glance, "I figured if I brought you something you actually ate, it would increase my chances of hanging around here for a while."
"Well," he replied, "it also helps that you are much fairer company than I've had for a long, long time." The blush she gave him stirred the embers of a fire that had long been extinguished. He had noticed how pretty she was, and how her red dress showed off her curves without revealing too much.
Still smiling at him-as if she could read his thoughts-Darcy handed him the bottle. "Here, you handle the wine. I always break the cork on the damn things. I'll divvy up the food." She paused, a frown creasing her brow. "You don't have any food allergies or anything, do you? I mean, do people on Asgard have peanut allergies?"
"No, I don't. And I've never heard of anyone on Asgard with a peanut allergy-mainly because they don't grow on Asgard." As he was opening the bottle of wine, he peered across the counter to watch as she lifted the lid off the container. He did a double-take at the volume of food she'd managed to steal away. "Did you leave any food for the others?" he asked, chuckling.
"Dude, you cannot imagine how much food Stark had laid out for us. There were ten tables-ten-of food! Although, after seeing Steve Rogers put away a whole tray of pigs in a blanket, I'm thinking they might miss this food." She shrugged nonchalantly. "But whatever. We can make our own fun, too."
They made their way to his kitchen table, he carrying the glasses and she the plates. When they'd sat down, he raised his glass in a toast. "To my first guest," he said, as they clinked their glasses. Before he had a chance to take a sip, Darcy added "and to new friends."
Darcy kept pinching herself. Here she was, sitting at Loki's kitchen table, drinking wine and eating finger food. It was like something she would dream after eating too many sour Skittles just before bed.
He was pleasant, funny and seemed just as pleased as she was for the company. The longer she was in his presence the more attracted to him she became, and this worried her. He had a great smile, killer cheekbones (why didn't women ever have cheekbones like that?!) and intelligent blue eyes-not to mention he was tall and obviously very fit.
And he seemed to be flirting with her. His eyes would hold hers for a fraction longer than what would be considered 'simply friendly', he was gradually leaning closer and closer to her, and his smile was larger than life.
This was scarier than her own attraction to him. A one-sided infatuation is easy to deal with-you keep it to yourself and live it out in fantasies. A reciprocal infatuation is so much more complicated because, well, because it involves someone else. She felt herself blush at the thought of his lips on hers, his hands caressing her curves, his cock sheathed deep within her…
She moaned out loud, quickly hiding it with a platitude about how good the mini baked brie was. She knew that he knew it was a lie-hello! God of Lies-but he thankfully didn't call her on it. He simply stared at her, his gaze intense.
"So!" she called out, trying to change the mood before something disastrous (disastrously amazing?) happened. "Have you ever seen A Christmas Carol?"
The sudden change in gears gave him pause, but he quickly caught up with her. "I have read the novel by Charles Dickens. Is there a movie as well?"
"C'mon," Darcy said, grabbing her plate and wine glass. "It's time you met Alastair Sim. Dude is the best Ebeneezer Scrooge ever."
Instead of staring at her like she'd lost her marbles-which she'd totally expected-Loki shrugged and followed her, plate and glass in hand. As they sat side by side on the couch facing the 60" TV, Darcy couldn't help but be jealous.
"Even your TV is bigger than mine! That is so not fair," she whined, reaching for the remote.
Loki looked at her, a haughty smirk firmly set in place. "My everything is bigger than yours."
Darcy snorted. She took a bite from her last pig in a blanket and said, through a mouthful of pastry, "including your ego." She finished her bite and called out "JARVIS? You there?"
"Good evening, Miss Lewis," replied a robotic voice. "Or should I say Merry Christmas Eve?"
The young woman smiled. "Merry Christmas Eve to you, too. Can you tell me if Netflix is set up on Loki's TV?"
The television lit up seemingly on its own, the familiar red screen appearing. "Is this what you require?"
"You rock, JARVIS-it's exactly what we need."
"Is there anything else I can assist you with?"
Darcy looked at Loki, eyebrows raised in question. His shook his head, looking surprised. "Nope. We're all good, here. Thanks again JARVIS."
"You're welcome Miss Lewis and Mr Odinson. Good evening."
While she searched for A Christmas Carol in the browse feature, she felt Loki's eyes on her. "What?" she asked, turning to glance at him.
"Does it not bother you that there is an omnipresent sentient being in this dwelling?"
"Who, JARVIS?" At his nod, she started to laugh. "No, it doesn't bother me. JARVIS is cool; it's not like he's watching me shower or anything." She paused, frowning. "At least, I hope not…"
She pushed the creepy thought from her mind and was relieved to finally find her movie. "Yes! I knew they'd have it!" She placed her plate down on the coffee table and curled her feet under her, settling in for the movie.
By the time the movie was over, Darcy had managed to nestle herself quite comfortably into Loki's side. He tried to recall at what point she'd migrated from her side of the sofa to his and honestly couldn't. It didn't matter, though, because he was quite content to have her pressed against him.
"So?" she asked. "What did you think?"
He turned to look at her and couldn't help but tease. "Do you mean the movie or the company?" he asked, squeezing her closer to him.
"Both," she replied, looking up at him with a playful twinkle in her eye.
"Well, the movie was very well done and I can see why it's a favourite of yours. Although I still don't understand why you cried when the third ghost was leading Scrooge-you've seen this many times and knew how the story ends."
Darcy turned a little in his arms so she could face him. He missed the contact and fought the urge to pull her back to him.
"Because it's sad," she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "To think that they'd lost their Tiny Tim, who'd given them a reason to keep on going through their shit lives. It's the same thing when you're reading a newspaper and you see an article about a tragedy, and even if you don't know the people, you feel really sad. It's called empathy."
Empathy. It was such a foreign sentiment to Loki, sitting outside the well-organized world of logic. Perhaps he would come to understand it through sharing experiences with people like Darcy.
"And the company?" she asked, blue eyes wide and expectant. As if she expected the possibility of a negative response.
"Like a spring thaw after a long winter," he replied, honestly.
She looked at him, surprised, then burst out laughing. "Yeah, right."
Her reaction drew out a bit of the old Loki-the not so pleasant one. How dare she question his honesty?! He reached down and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her onto his lap. Forcing himself not to notice how high up her thighs the straddle pushed her dress, he matched his gaze to hers, a small part of him satisfied with the trace of fear he saw. "Are you implying I'm lying?"
"No," she admitted. "It's just that I'm usually more like a hurricane or some other natural disaster."
His anger deflated and he shook his head, smiling. "Silly girl. You are sitting on a natural disaster. Compared to me you are the gentle breeze that follows a storm at sea."
She returned his smile, hers a bit more crooked as if she still didn't believe him. "Thank you. That's a lovely thing to say."
He continued to hold her, his hands low on her hips, his gaze focused on her full lips. "I would very much like to kiss you, however I believe there is a custom we must observe at this time of year."
"Custom?" she asked, confused.
"Give me your hand." She did as he bade and he turned it palm upwards, using his own hand beneath hers to cup it. He placed his other hand over and pushed forward a small tendril of magic. He pulled back, revealing a small leafy plant within her palm.
She laughed out loud. "Mistletoe!" Smiling, she raised it above them and leaned forward to press her lips against his. She made a contented humming sound and parted her lips, her tongue darting out to brush against his, teasing, tantalising, promising wicked pleasures.
Every gentle sweep of her lips against his stoked embers which had lain long-dormant within him. These knew nothing of jealousy, or vengeance, or hatred. These flames lit affection and tenderness and carnal desire. It had been such a long, long time since anger had been absent within him.
Darcy pressed her body closer to his, all warm skin and soft curves. Loki wrapped one arm tightly around her waist, keeping her snug against him, while the other found the zipper of her dress. He lowered it gently until it would go no further. His hands found its hem and he broke the kiss, pulling back and waiting for her consent.
She nodded and lifted her arms while he pulled upwards. However, the dress caught halfway up her torso and would no longer budge. Impatient, he waved his hand and the dress disappeared, reappearing over the back of one of his kitchen chairs.
"You magicked my dress off?!" she exclaimed, annoyed.
Loki frowned. "It was either that or rip it off; I assumed this was the more pleasant of the two options."
"Well, you could have asked me to stand up so I could take it off the traditional way."
"Fine, then." Loki waved his hand and she was once again clad in her dress. "Please remove your dress for me."
This was not supposed to turn into a strip tease. Having a guy pull your dress off in the middle of a make-out session was one thing, but standing in front of him and undressing yourself while he watches was something altogether too intimate.
"I need help with the zipper," she admitted, aware of how stupid she would look dancing around trying to pull the damned thing down herself-where was a hanger when you needed one?. Loki didn't move-didn't even blink-but her zipper slowly lowered itself on its own.
"How do you do that?!" she asked, flustered.
Loki's response was to throw her a smug grin and change his own clothing to one she would recognize all too well, a green tunic paired with a terrifying horned helm. He seemed to sense her fear and immediately changed his appearance, this time to something more fun: a carbon copy of herself.
"Wicked..." she exclaimed in childlike wonder, staring amazed at her doppelganger sitting on the couch. She walked over and reached out to touch herself-the other herself-and was surprised to see that his skin was warmer and softer-he felt exactly like her.
He morphed back into himself under her touch, the pads of her fingers ghosting across his cheek.
She backed away slowly until he was just out of reach. Keeping her gaze locked with his she slid one strap off her shoulder, then the second, and slipped the dress's bodice down over her chest until it rested at her hips. A tug and a shimmy later, and a pool of red satin lay at her feet.
Clad in only her undergarments, Darcy walked back to Loki, hips sashaying, eyes half-lidded, the fingers of one hand playing with the lace edging of her bra. The intensity in his gaze provided her with the self-confidence she'd needed-he may have been playing it cool, reclining on the couch like a man watching a game of football, but she could see he was teetering on the edge of losing control.
It probably wasn't the smartest thing she'd ever done, goading a formerly psychotic god with the temptation of sex, but no one had ever accused Darcy Lewis of having an excess of common sense.
"Do you like what you see?" she asked him, propping one knee beside his left thigh, her fingers still toying with the fabric of her bra.
"Gods, yes," he replied, his voice hoarse. He reached out and his long fingers joined hers, tracing invisible patterns on the creamy expanse of her breasts.
She felt something tickle the side of her head and realised she still wore the Santa hat she'd donned before heading down to Loki's apartment. Way to be sexy, there, Darcy, she chided herself. When she went to remove it, though, his hand stayed hers.
"Keep the hat."
"What?" she asked, confused.
"It's... festive."
"Whatever you like," she agreed, placing her other knee to his right, effectively straddling him. She sat further back on his lap and began to undo the buttons on his shirt. "And don't magic any more clothes off, ok? It's way more fun to do it this way."
He didn't answer-just kept his attention focused on her as she worked to remove the article of clothing. She parted the sides, revealing the pale expanse of his chest. All of Darcy's blood flew south at the sight of his well-defined muscles; he wasn't as beefy as Thor, but he was cut. Like, chiseled.
"Goodbye panties…" she murmured, licking her lips.
Loki had never had a woman look at him with such hunger in her eyes. Despite this, he still had the wherewithal to ask her what 'goodbye panties' meant. People on Midgard had the most absurd sayings.
She traced a finger down one of his pectorals, scratching at the pale nipple in its path. "It means," she explained slowly, her focus alternating between his eyes and his chest, "that I'm so horny right now my panties might just melt off."
He smirked-how could a man not be smug after such a rich compliment-and placed his hands at her waist, gently sliding her off his lap. "In that case, why don't we move to the bedroom?"
Darcy took a step back before shaking out of her trance. "Crap!" she exclaimed, hurrying to the bag she'd dropped by the door.
Loki worked on removing his cufflinks-removing clothes without magic was such a waste of time-while he watched her rummage around. "What is it?" he asked, curious as to the reason for her sudden change of focus.
"Ah ha!" The young woman produced a small box, raising it triumphantly over her head. When he draped his shirt over the back of a chair she walked over to him, stood on her tiptoes, and placed a kiss at the corner of his mouth. "As much as this is going to be the best sex I've ever had," she said, placing the box in his hand, "it won't be worth getting pregnant."
Confused, he watched her retreat to his bedroom, her hips swaying suggestively. He looked at the box-something called 'Trojans'-and read it over, understanding very quickly what was inside. "A whole box?" he muttered, staring at her retreating form.
When he reached the bedroom he found Darcy laying supine on his bed, arms stretched above her, one leg bent at the knee. "Hey," she purred. "I was wondering when you'd drop by."
"Apparently it was worth the wait," he responded, reaching the foot of his bed. He tossed the box on the bed beside her and slid his belt off, appreciating how Darcy's eyes followed the fluid movement. He popped the top button, lowered the zipper and dropped his pants. Kneeling on the bed, he slowly crawled up the length of her body.
"Your bed is really comfy," she said, stretching like a cat. "What are these, 1000 thread sheets or something? I really have to talk to Pepper about my apartm… Oh god…"
She smelled exquisite. Loki pulled back from the apex of her thighs, her heady scent making him dizzy. "Perhaps I should try that again, this time without your undergarments?" Her silent nod and raise of her hips off his bed was all the answer he required.
Loki reached forward, hooking a finger over each side of the lacy fabric, sliding it slowly down her legs. She lay before him, clad only in her bra, one leg on each side of him, her quim glistening with need. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. It had been so long since someone had offered themselves up to him so freely, so wantonly-since a woman had desired him as much as he desired her.
Darcy fought back the urge to pinch herself. If this was a dream, there was no way in hell she was going to wake herself up.
Loki knelt between her legs in all his glorious, delicious nakedness, his eyes black with desire, staring at her as if he also was resisting the urge to pinch himself. Shyeah, she thought to herself, like this isn't something he's done a million times over the centuries.
She placed her foot flat on his thigh, sliding it upwards until it rested on his shoulder. That seemed to bring him back to the here and now-right where she wanted him, of course-and he gave her a sly grin which promised all sorts of naughty fun.
He held her foot in one hand, pressing his lips to her ankle, darting his tongue out to circle it. His mouth followed the gentle curves of her calf, into the hollow of her knee, down the inside of her thigh. He shifted, lowering himself so he could reach his goal more comfortably.
Darcy didn't even try to bite back the moan that escaped her when he traced a line down the centre of her folds with the tip of his tongue. Somewhere in a corner of her mind she registered that he'd echoed her moan. He parted her with his long fingers, alternating between gentle licks and swirls, always getting closer to where she needed yet never quite close enough.
"Please," she begged, twisting her fingers in his dark hair, trying to direct him towards her centre. "Oh god, Loki, please…"
He stilled at the sound of his name on her lips, pausing in his ministrations. "Say it again," he asked hungrily, his gaze boring through her.
It took her a moment to understand what he meant, but Darcy clued in. Smiling, she looked at him unwaveringly, at this god who lay between her thighs, face damp with her juices. "Loki," she repeated, her back arching off the bed as he rewarded her with his tongue. His name became a mantra, "Loki, Loki, Loki!" as she felt her orgasm wash over her, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through her body.
When she came down from her high, she opened her eyes to see him hovering above her, eyes still dark, body drawn taught as a bow. She reached up and pressed her mouth to his feverishly, tasting herself on his lips. He reached for the box of Trojans, but she stilled his hand, shaking her head.
"Not yet," she said. "We have a saying here on Earth: One good turn deserves another." Moving out from underneath him, she instructed him to take her spot on the bed. She kneeled between his legs, reaching back to remove her bra. She laughed out loud when his eyes crossed in an exaggerated motion and he sank back into his coverlet.
"I died and have made it to Valhalla," he joked, reaching out to cup one of her breasts.
Darcy moved just shy of his reach, tut-tutting him. "Nuh-huh," she tsked, waving her index finger back and forth at him. "Let me show you what Valhalla really feels like." She held herself above him, hands on either side of his shoulders, and leaned down to kiss a line along one sharp cheekbone. Her mouth moved down the taut column of his neck to his collarbone and southwards, her tongue tracing invisible patterns along his smooth skin.
Loki's fingers wound gently in her hair. He was whispering something so quietly she couldn't quite hear what it was, and she suspected it may not even have been English. When she reached his cock, however, and drew the flat of her tongue up its very erect length, he let out a very loud, very clear "fuck!"
With every inch of his cock disappearing between those luscious, talented, lips of hers, Loki felt his ability to think rationally disappear.
Whereas his mind had been two steps ahead earlier-what position he wanted to fuck her first, how tight her quim would be, how many of those 'condoms' they would most likely go through-now it was frozen in the moment, savouring every torturous pass of her tongue.
She released him with an audible pop, blowing a cool stream of air on his still-wet shaft, then engulfed him quickly in her hot mouth; she did this a few times, making his head spin. He knew that if she kept at it, the moment would be over sooner than his self-respect would allow.
"Slowly," he begged (yes, Loki of Asgard was reduced to begging), wending his fingers in her soft hair. To his relief-more importantly, his dignity's relief-she did as he asked, holding him in her hand and alternating between kisses and licks.
Soon, however, her focus shifted to seeing how much of him she could take, increasing at every pass, until he was fully sheathed. When she began to work the muscles in her throat in tandem with her tongue, Loki lost all semblance of control.
He warned her well in advance, but she simply locked gazes with him, her own eyes blackened with lust, and kept her pace. Finally, he stopped holding back and allowed his release to course through him.
When he'd managed to collect himself-regain just enough control of his brain and his breathing-Loki looked down at Darcy, who was still crouched between his legs, now grinning widely. "Not bad for a mere mortal, huh?" she boasted.
Her smugness turned to surprise when he pulled her up and flipped them over so that he was hovering over her, dangerously close to losing control. His fingers gripped the sheets on each side of her head as his gaze washed over her lips, slowly and deliberately, before moving back up to her own.
"You have," he said, "a most talented mouth," before his lips crashed against hers. The embrace was hungry and demanding, leaving them both panting. Darcy managed to say 'condoms, now!' in between kisses, and Loki wasn't going to argue with her. He sat back on his haunch and reached for the box, ripping it open.
To his frustration, inside the box were more small packages. Sensing his rising irritation, Darcy pried one square away from the others and tore it open with her teeth, handing him its contents.
"Thank you," he muttered, rolling it into his very erect cock. He positioned himself at her centre and paused, despite everything, waiting for her signal to go ahead.
Darcy reached up, whispering in his ear, "Please fuck me, Loki."
And he did, hardly holding back. She met his every thrust, matching his enthusiasm, shifting at one point to wrap her legs around his waist, deepening his thrusts. Her quim was hot, and tight, and she had incredible muscle control, sometimes gripping him so strongly he couldn't move. If his eyes crossed any more, he thought to himself, they'd stay that way.
Finally her rhythm began to waver, her breathing coming in uneven gasps, her eyes going out of focus-it was the sign he'd been holding out for. He increased his thrusts and, at her first 'oh god, yes!' he felt his own floodgates open.
They both lay in a jumble of limbs, each trying to catch their breath. In between pants, Darcy's mouth stretched into a devious smile..
"What is it?" Loki asked, curious.
"It's my turn to be on top next."
At some point in the night, someone had put her in a straight jacket.
Darcy struggled to move, squirming with all her might, managing to gain a bit of wiggle room. It was then she realised it wasn't a straight jacket that was limiting her movements, but the arm and leg of a down-for-the-count, snuggly, god.
"Loki..." She squeaked, slipping further away from him, "need to breathe, here..."
He didn't answer, but he did roll over onto his back, finally allowing her to take a deep breath. Darcy smiled, watching him sleep soundly. He looked so normal, flat on his back, arms splayed out at each side, mouth slightly open. Just like a regular guy and not someone who had called on an army of aliens to help him take over the world. She giggled and thought that one day, maybe, she'd introduce him to Pinky and the Brain.
It was Christmas morning. Although it didn't hold the same magic that it had when she was little, it still was special. One thing was certain, though-Darcy was going to uphold the Lewis tradition of a Christmas morning pancake breakfast. One quick trip back up to her apartment-her very little, not containing a ginormous flat-screen TV apartment-and Loki would wake up to the tantalizing aroma of pancakes.
And because it was Christmas, she'd even break out the real maple syrup.
Darcy got up and padded towards the living room, gathering her clothes as she went: bra on a bedpost, undies somewhere just outside the bedroom, tights... She honestly couldn't remember where or when they had taken her tights off. I had them on when we were watching the movie, she remembered, but I didn't have them on when I took my dress off... She rolled her eyes, realizing he must have magicked them off at some point. Meh. I'll worry about that later.
She stuffed her clothes into her bag and pulled her dress on, wishing she had Loki's magic to help her with the zipper. "Halfway up is gonna have to be good enough," she muttered to herself, imagining that she must literally look like something the cat dragged in.
She found a pad of paper and a pen by the phone-leave it to Loki to be that organised-and sat at one of the kitchen chairs to write him a note. It was then that something caught her eye. Something that hadn't been there the previous night. Off in a corner of Loki's living room was a fully decorated Christmas tree with gifts underneath.
"Oh my god, you didn't!" she said, running to the tree and checking out the gifts. There were presents for both her and Loki, beautifully wrapped in expensive paper and fancy tags. She resisted the urge to shake her presents and walked back to finish her note.
Gone back to my room to get changed and grab stuff for breakfast. We have to talk about that tree, mister.
Luck was on her side. Darcy didn't come across one person as she made her way back to her apartment, and that suited her just fine. She really didn't want to have to use any of the lame excuses she'd come up with to explain her appearance ("I was walking home from the party when I got attacked by a group of ninjas" might actually be taken seriously, as would "so this ray of light came out of nowhere and beamed me up on a spaceship"-her life was so weird right now).
She swiped the access key to her apartment and walked in, dropping her bag on top of a pile of shoes haphazardly stacked by the door.
"Where have you been?!"
Darcy jumped and screamed. "Holy shit!" Hand over her chest, she leaned back against the door with a thud.
Jane sat on the arm of her couch, her patented 'Mom' look firmly in place. "I have been worried sick about you! You disappeared from the party, you didn't answer your phone, and for some reason JARVIS wouldn't tell us where you were..."
"Really? He wouldn't say?"
Jane pressed her lips together. "I had to threaten to dismantle him before he even told me you were safe." Her face softened, and she stood up and walked over to the younger woman. She placed her hand on Darcy's shoulder, sliding her dress strap back up. "Where were you, anyway? You look like hell."
Darcy's heart sank. She really hadn't thought that anyone would notice her absence but in retrospect it would have been smart to send Jane a quick text to let her know she was fine. "I'm really sorry, Jane. I wasn't thinking. I felt out of place at the party so I grabbed a bottle of wine and some food and went down to see Loki..."
"Loki?! You went to see Loki by yourself?! What the hell was going through your mind?"
She was tired, she was still sore and sticky from the previous night's activities, so Darcy's feathers were easily ruffled. "Well, maybe I was thinking that the two outcasts could have their own party seeing as neither of us really fit in with everyone else. Maybe, just maybe, if you'd actually paid a bit of attention to me at the party I wouldn't have felt so out of place that I wanted to leave!"
The other woman's face fell. "Oh, Darcy, I'm sorry. I guess I might have become a bit absorbed in my conversation with Dr Banner..." She seemed to take in Darcy's appearance just then, her sharp mind connecting the dots between 'went to Loki's' and coming back half dressed and dishevelled. "So..." she asked, "how is Loki?"
Darcy was so very tempted to reply 'really spry for someone who's a few millennia old' just to see the look on her friend's face, but it was Christmas so she opted for something with a lower shock value. "He's doing pretty good, all things considered. He's actually a nice guy now that he's not, you know, trying to enslave all of humanity."
"Really?" Jane looked like she wanted to believe Darcy, but was having trouble doing so.
"Yeah, really. We had some wine, ate some of the food I'd snagged from the party, and then we watched A Christmas Carol together."
"And then?"
"And then, what?" Darcy asked, innocently.
Jane's reply was to simply raise one eyebrow and give Darcy a very slow, deliberate, once-over.
"Ok, fine, and then we had hours of mind-blowing sex." She raised her hand, palm outward, when her friend opened her mouth to ask the obvious next question. "Hours of consensual mind-blowing sex, Jane. Look. I know you're concerned, but Loki was respectful, polite, and even funny."
"Loki was funny?" The astrophysicist's tone of voice implied she'd have an easier time believing the Tooth Fairy existed.
"Come on, ye of so little faith," Darcy said, nodding towards her bathroom. "I need to take a shower and get dressed in something more comfortable before heading back-I promised Loki some breakfast. We can dish while I get ready."
Loki had been up just long enough to put the kettle on for some tea when there was a knock at his door. He opened it to find Darcy, her hair still wet from a shower and dressed in a pair of what he'd heard referred to as 'yoga pants' and a green sweater.
She handed him a duffle bag, kissed him on the cheek, and walked past him into his home. The familiarity of her company comforted him-despite the note she'd left him, a small part of him didn't think she'd really come back.
But Darcy was different from all the others. She didn't have an agenda; she'd truly reached out to him as a friend, not because she wanted to get close to Thor (which she already was, anyway), or because he was of the house of Odin, or even because he knew magic. Darcy liked Loki because of who he was. The only woman who'd ever honestly loved Loki had been his mother; perhaps this young woman was a gift from Frigga, a chance for him to be the man she'd always seen in him.
"Midgard to Loki!" Darcy appeared before him, snapping her fingers in his face. When he turned his attention to her she smiled and asked "Penny for your thoughts?"
He couldn't help but match her smile. "I was thinking about how my mother would have liked you," he admitted.
She seemed utterly stunned by his revelation. She stood there, eyes wide and mouth agape; for once, Darcy Lewis was speechless. Loki took advantage of the opportunity, leaning in to kiss her soundly.
"Thank you," he whispered, kissing her once more, this time on the forehead.
"What for?"
"For coming back."
The young woman looked at him for a moment, then smiled and patted him gently on the cheek. "You can't get rid of me that easy, Loki. Just ask Jane." She took his hand and pulled him towards the kitchen. "Now, let's get these pancakes made so I can check out those presents you put under the tree. I still can't believe you did that, by the way. So not necessary…"
Loki followed her into the kitchen and watched her pull foodstuffs out of the duffle bag. "As much as I'd like to take credit, I've no idea where the tree and presents come from. My theory is Stark-this is the sort of grandiose gesture suited to his ego."
Darcy began to pour the contents of her containers into a larger bowl. "Nope. Pepper told me that instead of buying everyone presents, they were going to be filling up the shelves at food banks across the city."
He watched her mix the batter by hand while the pan heated on the stove and made a mental note to ask her to teach him the basics of cooking. On one hand, he'd be eating much healthier than he currently was, and on the other it would be a good excuse to have her over more often.
Could it be that he'd finally found someone to wrest him from the shadows, to shift his dark thoughts to lighter ones, to make him a better man? It seemed ages ago that he'd mocked Thor for having fallen for a mortal woman-it certainly would be ironic for him to follow in his brother's footsteps, he mused.
A solid smack on his ass pulled him from his thoughts.
"Less thinking-more helping," Darcy said, pointing to the kitchen table. "The pancakes are starting to pile up."
Loki worked on setting the table while Darcy finished up the last of the pancakes. When they finally sat down, he came to a realisation. "This is the first meal cooked in my kitchen," he said, taking his first bite of pancake.
"Well?" Darcy asked through a mouthful, "what do you think? Are they good enough to have christened your kitchen?"
He closed his eyes, taking the time to savour his breakfast. "Mmmm," he moaned in delight, dipping his finger in the maple syrup and tasting it. "I would think so, yes."
The young woman laughed. "I think someone has a sweet tooth."
"Yes, indeed. Mother used to add amalia syrup to my medicine when I was a child, otherwise I would refuse to take it. Odin used to accuse her of making me soft with her pampering, but she'd always stand her ground. He never did find out she did the same for Thor, too." As he shared this story with Darcy he realised that, for the first time since her death, remembering his mother didn't leave a gaping wound in his chest. Instead, he felt a warmth spread through him at the thought that his own memories of her would never die.
He felt Darcy's arms encircle him and leaned against her, accepting her warm embrace.
She'd gotten up and reached out to him on instinct alone. Had she given it any consideration at all beforehand Darcy may have thought twice, or at least hesitated, before hugging him. From what she'd heard from Thor, and from what she'd witnessed herself, Loki had some serious Mother issues he had to work through.
But he accepted her gesture, exhaling deeply and squeezing her back.
Eventually Darcy pulled back and returned to her seat. They spent the rest of their meal in a comfortable silence, Loki eating pancake after pancake after pancake, and Darcy simply watching.
"What is it with you gods and your appetites?" she asked, watching him polish off the last pancake.
"Hey," Loki said indignantly through his last mouthful, "you weren't complaining about my appetite last night…"
Darcy's cheeks reddened at the memory of what they'd done the night before (and into the wee hours of the morning). "No," she squeaked, standing up and walking her dishes over to the sink. "No complaints about that appetite."
Loki followed her, adding his plate and utensils to her own. He pressed himself behind her, his left hand on her hip and his right hand brushing against the swell of her breast. "I can't stop thinking about last night," he whispered in her ear. Darcy felt a shiver run down her spine at the raw emotion in his voice. "At the feel of your mouth around my cock, the sight of you riding me, the sound of you coming undone again and again..."
The young woman turned to face him, her heart beating frantically. His eyes were almost consumed by desire, his own breathing coming out in shallow breaths.
"Why don't we," she spoke calmly, "go see what presents we have waiting for us first, and then we'll have all the time we want to figure out new ways of using up the rest of the condoms?"
He took a deep, calming, breath and nodded. "Agreed." He took her by the hand and led her to the tree, standing awkwardly beside it. "How does this custom unfold?"
Darcy couldn't help but smile. "It depends," she replied. "If you're under the age of ten it usually means tearing through any presents with your name on it as fast as you can without really looking at any of them. For us grown ups, though, it's more traditional to find presents for each other and hand them over."
Loki nodded and looked through the few gifts, finally picking one up and handing it over to her. She thanked him and found one with his name on it, giving it to him. "Now we open them," she said, tearing through hers like a kid. Behind the paper was a box made of thin wood, very much like a cardboard clothing gift box. She gasped when she opened it; inside was what had to be the most expensive nightgown she'd ever seen. The emerald green fabric looked like silk, but almost felt like cashmere. She turned it over, looking for a tag or anything else that would give her an indication of what it was made of.
Loki, who hadn't yet finished unwrapping his own gift, was looking at her oddly. "Let me see that," he asked, reaching out for it. She handed it over and watched him as he held the fabric in his hands, recognition dawning on his features. "This is from Asgard," he told her, surprised. "It's woven from a thread made from the hair of an animal called a heldige. They're very expensive and hard to come by." He handed it back to her. "It will look beautiful on you."
Darcy looked at her gift once more and put it in the box very gently; the last thing she wanted was to pull a thread in it before she even got to wear it. She then turned her attention to Loki, who had finally unwrapped his gift. He also had a box, although his was about the same shape and size as a watch box. She watched his face as he opened it, and couldn't help but lean forward when he frowned. In the box was a small brooch, carved with an intricate design, similar in artwork to the hilt of his mother's dagger. "Also from Asgard?" she guessed. He nodded slowly, most of his focus still on the small piece of jewelry. "Yes. I'm not sure who these are from or how they got here," he admitted, obviously confused.
"We might as well open the other gifts," she suggested. After all, they only had three each to begin with, and Darcy was of the attitude that they might as well enjoy what they have.
They each found a gift for the other: a rectangular box for Darcy and another small, square box for Loki. This time, Darcy took more care in peeling back the paper that covered her present; knowing it was from Asgard, and not Wal-Mart, she really didn't want to rip it. This box, much heavier than the first, was made of a honey-coloured solid wood. It had a clasp on one side and hinges on the other and, when opened, presented her with a simple yet beautiful dagger.
Darcy couldn't help but let out a nervous laugh. "Well, we can certainly rule out anyone who knows me as having given me these gifts. No one in their right mind would give me a knife this sharp; I cut myself on a butter knife last week." Despite this, she took it out of its box (gingerly and by the hilt) and examined it before passing it to Loki. "Asgard?"
He nodded as he accepted it from her and, despite her sharp plea to be careful, slid his finger along the blade, pulling it back uninjured. "It's what I thought," he said, his expression a mix of amusement and confusion.
"Which is?"
"This is purely an ornamental dagger," he said, handing it to her. "Traditionally, it is a gift given to a maiden when she becomes betrothed."
"What?!" Darcy looked again at the gift, and at Loki, putting two and two together. "Dude, if someone thinks one night of incredible sex means we're getting married, then I'm gonna have to have a serious talk with them about customs here on Earth..."
Loki laughed long and hard at this and leaned over to kiss the top of her head. "Don't worry," he said, "I believe it's more a case of someone's sense of humour showing through."
The young woman nodded, still not quite sure who had been responsible for sending them these presents. As far as she was concerned, this Christmas morning was getting downright creepy.
"Come on, open yours," she pressed, watching him intently. Again, his fingers delicately slid across the paper, peeling it apart without tearing it. It was another box similar to his first but slightly bigger. When he opened it, he tipped it and a glass orb the size of a tennis ball fell into the palm of his hand. His eyes widened almost comically, and he looked up at Darcy in shock, as if seeking her confirmation that he really did have a... whatever it was... in his hand.
"Well, what is it?" she asked.
"It's an orb of Muninn," he replied with an air of wonder. As if realizing that meant squat to her, he shook out of his stupour and explained to her what that meant. "To explain in terms you'll understand, this orb allows you to transmit a memory which it will play back for you."
"I'm gonna guess these aren't a dime a dozen, judging by your reaction?" Loki was thousands of years old and had travelled the far reaches of the Universe, yet he still sat there staring at it, amazed. Darcy was pretty sure she couldn't even begin to comprehend how rare this orb of Mennen (or whatever) was.
"I've only ever known of one, and it was my mother's. She told me there were more, but I've never seen another."
"Go ahead, then," Darcy pressed, excited to see how this thing worked. "Try it out!"
He looked at her, then, reticent. The young woman cursed her own impatience. Way to go, Darce, it's not like he's brimming with happy memories at the moment. She was about to apologise when he broke out into a smile and closed his eyes.
Slowly, the orb began to glow gently. When he opened his eyes, he signalled for her to sit closer to him. She did, and watched intently as a scene unfolded inside: a young boy, no more than 7 or 8 years old, sat at a wooden table in a large stone room. He was blonde and sturdy-looking for his age, so Darcy guessed it was Thor. But he also looked very pale and sick, or uncomfortable. Someone in the background was chiding him-it was a woman's voice-"need to be more careful when climbing trees" she said, and that's where Darcy noticed that Thor was holding his arm. The woman spoke again, "stay here; we'll need to have someone set your arm" and then walked out.
Then there was a third voice, that of another young boy, and she realised the scene was unfolding from someone's perspective-Loki's. "Does it hurt much?" he asked Thor. "No," Thor lied, tears threatening to spill. At that moment, an apple from a nearby fruit bowl floated up and began to bob up and down, catching the injured boy's attention. He looked surprised, but not as much as when a second, and then third, piece of fruit began to dance along with the first. He looked at Loki, and broke out into a mischievous grin. This was all the encouragement the younger boy needed, because soon there was a menagerie of food, gathered from all over the room (most likely a kitchen, Darcy assumed), bouncing around Thor, making him laugh and forget about his arm.
At that point the orb went dark. "I don't recall what happened after that," Loki said, still smiling. "I would assume I was punished for making a mess of the kitchen, though."
Darcy laughed. "I think that's a good guess." She looked at him and smiled. "Maybe one day you can share that memory with Thor, when you're ready. I think it would be like Christmas and his birthday all rolled into one."
Loki's smile faltered but didn't disappear. "Perhaps, one day."
The young woman pushed the next present into his hand. "You open the next one first this time," she insisted, curious to see what the smallest and lightest gift was.
He accepted it without an argument and unwrapped his third and last gift. It was, again, a small box, this time flat and entirely plain and unadorned.
His reaction, upon opening it, was immediate and visceral, his good mood turning to shock, his face becoming paler than usual. Hands shaking, he took the small white piece of cloth-it looked like a woman's handkerchief-and let the box drop at his feet.
"Loki?" Darcy asked carefully, "what is it?"
He turned his gaze towards her, blue eyes wide and rimmed with tears. His mouth opened but he couldn't make any words come out.
Just then, she heard a ruckus in the hallway, loud footsteps with a woman yelling. "Thor! Calm down!"
Loki's door shook in its hinges as the God of Thunder knocked on it none too gently. "Brother! Let me in this instant!" he commanded.
Darcy stared at the door, for once honestly afraid of who stood on its other side. What the fuck was going on?
With an absent-minded flick of his fingers, Loki did as his brother commanded. He wasn't stupid; he could only guess why Thor was banging at his door.
He stood when his brother stormed in, and saw his own emotions reflected in Thor's pained gaze.
"You too, Brother?" he asked, raising the handkerchief gently, as if it might disappear at any moment.
Thor looked shocked. "But... what sort of trickery is this?!"
"Ok, can someone please tell me what's going on?!"
All eyes turned to Jane, who had just come into the apartment. Her keen eyes spotted the tree and the mess underneath. "So you guys got to play Secret Santa too, huh?" she said, frowning.
"Yup," Darcy replied. She seemed to slip into her role of assistant almost immediately, despite the holiday setting. "Loki and I figure it's got to be someone from Asgard, but we haven't really figured out who."
"Well," the other woman started, "I'm gonna rule out Odin, because he doesn't really like me enough to be sending me Christmas presents, and I don't even think he knows Loki is back." She turned to Thor for confirmation.
He nodded solemnly. "Father is yet unaware of his return. Heimdall assures me of this."
"Heimdall..." Loki repeated, as realisation struck. "It was Heimdall."
His brother stared at him, confused. "Loki, what leads you to believe this," he swept his arm in a grand gesture, pointing at the tree and the gifts, oddly careful with the small piece of fabric held tightly in his large hand, "was orchestrated by Heimdall?"
Loki turned to Darcy. "Could you please show my brother the dagger you received?"
The young woman blushed and gave him a dirty look, but handed the box to Thor nonetheless.
Frowning, Thor opened the wooden box and peered inside. His eyes widened, and he looked from Loki to Darcy and back at the dagger again before bursting into laughter.
Jane looked into the box and then up at her boyfriend. "What is it, a dagger of klutziness?" she asked.
"No," the man chuckled, casting a quick glance towards Darcy, who leaned against the couch, arms crossed. He was obviously assessing how close she was to a taser (Loki made a mental note to have Darcy show him that memory through the orb). "It is traditionally given to a young woman when she becomes betrothed."
Jane frowned, not getting the joke. "What? But Darcy isn't... oh..." Then she looked up at Thor, worried. "Does this mean Heimdall can see us when we're..." She waved her hands around in a vague gesture. "You know..."
Loki rolled his eyes. "Rutting like beasts?" He received glares from the other couple, but Darcy only laughed.
"Hey, he could have said something worse, like 'riding the skin bus to tuna town'."
Thor chose to ignore her-most likely mentally storing that one for later, Loki thought-and turned back to his brother. "And what about these?" he asked quietly, holding out the white fabric.
"What are they?" Darcy finally asked, stepping forward to stand beside Loki. She took his hand in hers, lifting it so she could see the cloth.
Hands still shaking, damn them, he held it out for her to take. Despite being millennia old, it still looked new.
To her credit, Darcy seemed to understand the value of the object and held it delicately, tracing the embroidery without actually touching it,
"Mother made these handkerchiefs when we were born," Thor explained. "Well, when I was born and when Father brought Loki home. She worked on them, every stitch, while she rocked us to sleep in our cradles." He smirked, a twinkle in his eye. "Loki's has more embroidery because he was a fussier infant."
"You more than made up for it afterwards, though," Loki countered, easily falling back into a light banter long ago forgotten. He had to admit that it was a habit he was all too happy to reprise. "She always did say every one of her grey hairs had your name written on it."
He sobered up, returning the focus to Thor's original question. "Heimdall was very close to his queen; it wouldn't be surprising for her to have shared a last testament with him that was unknown to all, including her husband."
Darcy handed him the handkerchief and leaned against him, her arm loosely wrapped around his waist. This entire scene seemed so surreal to him, from the domesticity of his relationship with Darcy-which hadn't even existed one day prior-to being one step closer to a reconciliation with his brother, to receiving gifts from his deceased mother through a man who didn't even like him.
"Maybe we can just attribute it to a Christmas miracle?" Darcy suggested meekly.
Jane looked like she was going to argue, but Thor interjected, his face splitting into a wide smile. "Yes!" he agreed, "as I am with my brother again and we are making amends. It is as good as a miracle."
Proof that a miracle may well have been into play, Loki did not have the heart to contradict him. After all, they were on the road to amends, as winding and slow-going as it was. He had a feeling, though, that Darcy's presence in his life might just push him along a little faster than he would have gone on his own.
"So," Darcy spoke up, "what are the plans for Christmas dinner?"
Darcy sat on the couch, snuggled firmly against Loki, a glass of Chardonnay in hand.
It had been, hands down, the best Christmas dinner ever. Jane had called Pepper to let her know she and Thor would be staying at Loki's instead of joining the other Avengers for dinner. As a result, their food had been sent down to his apartment and the four had enjoyed an intimate meal with all the trimmings, including even the Christmas crackers.
Thor and Darcy had worn their paper hats in good fun, but nothing would convince either Jane or Loki to don theirs. Either way, dinner had been delicious, someone else had cleaned up, and the guests had left early.
As far as Darcy was concerned, that was a certified hat trick.
"You know," Loki said, his voice hushed in the quiet moment they were sharing. "You still have one gift left to open."
Damn it, he was right-all the events had unfolded right after he'd opened his third gift. Still, she was surprised her own had gone completely forgotten.
Trying to act mature-but failing miserably-she handed Loki her wine glass and made a dash for the lone present still sitting among the discarded paper. She nearly tripped in her rush and, if it hadn't been for Loki and his magic, would most likely have taken the tree out in her fall.
"I believe I now understand Jane's reference to a 'dagger of klutziness'," Loki commented, failing to suppress a smirk.
"Ha ha," Darcy replied evenly, sitting back down beside him with about as much dignity as she could muster. She was about to begin unwrapping it when she realised something: "This gift isn't like the others," she said, looking at it more closely. "The handwriting is neater and it's wrapped better."
She looked up at him, puzzled, and he responded with a smile. "There were five presents under the tree when I got up this morning-three for me and two for you. In the spirit of fairness, I might have added one myself."
Her heart beat quickened; this present, coming from Loki, meant more to her than the ones she'd received from Heimdall, no matter how valuable they were. Then she really began to think. When had he had the time to find a present for her? Had there been something in his apartment that was suitable? Did he make her something? He couldn't have gone out to buy a gift-could he?
"Well, open it," he prodded. "I'm curious to see if you like it."
Fingers shaking-now it was her turn-she took more time than she'd ever had opening a gift, peeling the paper back (and how the hell did these people wrap without tape?!) to reveal a box much like those their gifts from Asgard had come in. She pried it open and gasped, pulling out a pendant on a chain.
She held it before her, examining it closely. Teardrop-shaped, it seemed to change colours before her very eyes, its appearance a swirling vortex of purple, blue and grey. "It's…. It's beautiful," she said, once she managed to find her voice. "I've never seen anything like it."
He took it from her and fastened the chain behind her neck, placing a kiss over the clasp. "You wouldn't have. Let's just say that it isn't from around these parts."
Darcy turned around, facing him. She wanted to ask him where it was from, and how he got it, and what its significance was, but instead she launched herself at him, kissing him soundly. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her onto his lap and deepening the embrace.
She pulled back, panting. "In case you didn't guess, that was a great big thank you."
"Actually," Loki purred, stroking the pendant. "I was hoping I might be able to see you wear the pendant… and nothing else."
The young woman laughed. "Why the hell not. Come on." She stood up and held her hand out to him. "Let's end Christmas Day the same way we started it."
End
Well-what did you think? Please review-it'll be like a not-so-secret-Santa!