Truthfully


Summary: For a prompt on NorseKink:

Loki had every intention of wreaking havoc upon Midgard the moment his suicide attempt had failed. Really. He'd planned on setting cities ablaze, smashing buildings, pillaging, all of that good stuff.

Too bad he hadn't planned on the place being so FUN.

Destroying City Hall? Maybe if he can squeeze it in between ikebana and his Thai cooking classes. Oh, he tries for the whole supervillain thing, but is it really his fault that he really likes going to yoga and hair products that don't require massive amounts of oils that leave him feeling greasy? Is it really his fault that manicures are so damn RELAXING and that those little Asian ladies in the salon are so charmingly adorable? Besides, his therapist says that all the rage is unhealthy.

TL;DR Loki gets a therapist and finds Earth hobbies that he enjoys in between bothering his brother and his friends.


Disclaimer: Ahahahahahaha. No.


Chapter Seven: Gypsum


AUTHOR'S NOTE: Oh my god. You guys, I am so embarrassed. I accidentally posted the wrong chapter earlier this morning and I couldn't possibly be more mortified if I tried. This is the correct chapter, the one posted this morning was the wrong one. God, I am embarrassed.


It had been three days since Loki had so much as rolled over in the bed he'd put in at the insistence of Thor. No one was going to cross the guy, not after he'd woken up in the street with Loki passed out on his chest. Oh, the bigwigs at SHIELD had tried to push for a cell and Fury had exchanged a rather vocal exchange with Thor on the merits of forcing Loki into a coma until they figured out what to do with him, but Thor had eventually gotten his way, landing Loki in a spare bedroom at the Malibu mansion that had been adapted with magic dampeners so that Thor could look after him.

Briefly, they'd all entertained the idea that Loki had been up to something nefarious, only to go through all of the effects he'd carried on him and finding nothing incriminating. Just a high end cell phone, a wallet full of the normal things (including but not limited to a fake id, drivers license, and a credit card), some receipts, and a small bottle of oil that smelled like flowers and that Thor assured all of them was most definitely not Asgardian lube.

Three days after they'd put the villain to bed (Tony still choked just a little bit when he phrased it like that in his head), Loki's cell phone began to ring.

It rang for at least twenty minutes straight before Steve found himself approaching the table where it lay, unable to restrain his curiosity on who would be calling a supervillain.

It no longer rang but there were two new voice mails from a Caroline Moran.

Quickly, Steve balanced the outcomes of checking those voicemails against how painful Loki might make his death when he found out his phone had been breached. It didn't take much deliberation before the man was clumsily accessing Loki's mailbox, fingers still slightly unused to the technology. Along the way, Steve noted that Loki's inbox contained approximately 342 text messages, fifty of which were labeled as being from 'that broad from yoga'.

"Hello, Loki. This is Doctor Moran. I'm just calling because you're over an hour late for our appointment and that's unlike you, so I couldn't help but be a little bit worried. I have an opening tomorrow if you'd like to reschedule; just call me back at this number. If not, I'll see you three days from now at our usual time. Thank you, enjoy the rest of your day. –click-"

Steve skipped ahead to the second, making a mental note to look into this woman.

"Loki, it's Doctor Moran again," her voice was tight and held more than just a touch of panic this time, "I've been out of the office for the past couple of days and just now got around to checking up. This is the only way I know how to get a hold of you, so when you get this, please give me a call back to let me know that you're alright. Thank you. –click-"

Steve set the phone back down and took a step back, the gears in his mind spinning rapidly.

It would be incredibly stupid to actually call this person back. What if she had been speaking in code? What if she was actually another villain that Loki had been plotting with? The what-ifs were endless, really. Unfortunately, Steve Rogers was also the sympathetic sort. She'd sounded really worried, what if she was being genuine? Loki couldn't have been duping her about who he was, what if she was sitting around somewhere, fretting like there was no tomorrow?

And she'd mentioned an appointment.

Mind made up, Steve made his way down into the basement that Tony had made his hideaway while living with a bunch of other dudes.

"Could you do me a favor?" he asked when the other man glanced up at him.

"If it's quick. What's up?" Tony replied, clicking away on his laptop.

"Could you look up a 'Doctor Caroline Moran'? It's kind of important."

"Sure, give me two seconds," It really did only take about two seconds before the man was making a whistling sound between his teeth, "Being a hero getting to you that much, buddy?"

"Who is she?"

"Active psychologist, got a practice out in NYC. Apparently focuses in…" Clickety click, "Grief counseling, emotional trauma, the standard shrink stuff really. If you're looking for hero-specific counseling, I think you'd have better luck asking for a recommendation from Fury. "

"Oh, uh, no, it's not for me," Steve shifted slightly, "Thanks though."

"No prob. Oh, here's a photo— whoa, that is some serious hair. If Trelawney was a ginger, I think she'd look like that."

"Thank you, Tony. Carry on," Steve turned and began to ascend the stairs when he got an absent wave from the other hero who was once again completely entranced in his work.

So. If his voicemails were to be believed, Loki had apparently been in touch with a mental health professional. Steve's mind flashed back to months before, to a conversation involving such a topic.

"I know that something has happened to calm him and soothe whatever has been causing him to act this way. Whatever that is, I wouldn't know, but if Loki is going to this 'therapy', it can only be good for him."

Well. Okay, then.

He listened to the message again to get the number and dialed the number.

It was picked up almost instantly.

"Hello, Loki?"

Steve gulped.

"Um, not quite. This is Steve Rogers—uh, Captain America. I just got your messages and thought I'd call," he said, not a little bit awkwardly considering that as far as he knew, Loki was still unconscious upstairs. "We're looking after him out here so that's why he hasn't made it to your, eh, sessions."

"Is he okay?"

"Well, he's kind of unconscious right now. Physically, he's fine, just… he used up a lot of himself. He'll be okay, though." In theory, anyway.

"Oh, what a relief."

Steve nodded, forgetting briefly that he couldn't be seen over the phone.

"If it's not too much trouble, could someone let me know when he wakes? I do worry about him."

"You're his doctor… right?" Steve asked tentatively, and all went silent on the other end. Finally,

"Yes, I am. I'm sorry, patient confidentiality says that I can't tell you anything else. Thank you for calling."

The conversation ended then; Steve gave a polite goodbye and hung up, setting the phone back on the table. His mind raced, jumping back and forth from the conversation he'd just had to the incoherent villain upstairs. The incoherent villain that had not only saved his brother's life at the expense of himself without even thinking about it, but had apparently taken the initiative to get himself what was clearly some much-needed help in the emotional stability department.

Huh.

Without realizing just where he was walking, Steve found himself pushing open the door to Loki's room and slipping inside.

Thor was in his usual spot, sitting on a cushioned stool at his brother's bedside. His hand was outstretched and stroking rhythmically over Loki's hair, down his cheeks, over his jawline, and back up again.

"How are you holding up?" Steve asked quietly, standing beside Thor. The other man shook his head.

"I am fine, but I do wish that he would awaken," Thor said lowly, not pausing in his motions for even a moment, "It is unnatural to see him so still."

"Is he really just sleeping?"

"My brother is the most powerful sorcerer in Asgard, possibly in all of the nine Realms," Thor informed him as if giving a lesson, and perhaps he was, "The more powerful the sorcerer, the larger his magical core, and in healing me he depleted almost all of his own. It sent him into shock which will likely persist until he is able to support himself properly."

So basically, if Loki woke up a basketcase, he'd be strong enough to make a dent in someone, probably. Great.

Steve remained silent and Thor continued his ministrations, caressing along that slackened face, so unfamiliar without the rage or manic that usually marred it. This way, he looked so calm, like he never worried. Clearly Loki worried, and worried a lot.

"It has been so long since I've been able to get close enough to do this," Thor was speaking again, normally boisterous tone subdued to a low rumble, "Part of it was my fault, I know. I became full of myself as a warrior, to not want to bother with my little brother who I saw for so long only as a tagalong. He was always proficient at spellwork and looked down upon for being more inclined towards women's work than the honorable duties of Asgard men," Thor looked dangerously close to crying and Steve reached out to rest a hand upon his shoulder. He certainly wasn't as strong as a god, but he knew that he could give a reassuring shoulder squeeze with the best of them. "If I could, I'd ask him where we all went wrong, but I think I'm too frightened to know the answer." Stroke, stroke. For the first time since Steve had begun observing, Loki stirred a little, just enough to shuffle closer to Thor's side of the bed, inspiring a watery smile. "When he let go of Gungnir, I couldn't help but wonder if there was anything left of him. Why did Father have to tell him no right then, right when he was hanging but by a thread? He'd have done anything to please, my sweet, ambitious little brother. It was all so obvious, so why hadn't I seen? When had he become so desperate?"

There was nothing Steve could say to that but the look on Thor's face, sad and filled with uncharacteristic self-loathing made him close his eyes and squeeze harder.

"It was all there, right in front of my eyes for so long. Why hadn't I seen what had been done to him? What he was doing to himself? It was my job, my duty, and my desire."

"Look, Thor? I don't know how it is in Asgard, but sometimes… you just don't know. Maybe you could have done things better. Maybe you did the best you could, I can't really say. Maybe you didn't. But you have him now. You know now. And you know that somewhere inside him, there's still the little brother who would have done anything for you, because he did and right now you're here to be able to pet the proof of it."

Thor's hand stilled and he glanced down at that dark-haired head, the rest of him nestled snugly under the mounds of blankets. Eventually, he smiled, still tinged with a touch of sadness but better than nothing.


AN2: Again, this is me being incredibly embarrassed. Please feel free to leave a review telling me what a moron I am.