HEY GUYS! I UPDATED! and then there was much rejoycing, and D.o.t.B. actually went to sleep at kinda-sorta 'decent' hour (ha ha, no).

THANK YOU'S: (this is for those who have left more than two comments or favorited or added me as favorite author; I STILL LOVE YOU ALL WANT TO GIVE YOU MULTIPLES OF LOKI)

Chatnoir1- You gave me my first comment and have kept encouraging me along the way with detailed comments of what you like of mine; so thank you, they really help me grow, you might have no idea of how happy they make me, but I hope that in some way you do.

Dancing Pinky Flower- From an interesting name to an interesting reviewer, you let your own spark of quirky wit show in your comments, I love hearing what you have to say in whatever way you say it.

Jetsir- Your kind words make me happy and comfort me about certain things I wasn't sure about; like Loki's armor. The simplest things make me sigh in relief, so thank you for the powerful yet little things, and CONGRADULATIONS TO BEING THE BROWNIE POINTS WINNER! Good to know I'm not the only one who saw that movie (although it does make me feel like a stalker since I only saw it for Kat Dennings...).

Megumisakura- (I feel like theres an interesting story behind that name) anyway, your small words of encouragement are kept short and sweet but are just as apprieciated hun.

Voupohl- Your sincer sounding words can make my jaw drop, sounding almost too good to be true. But thank you, I'm amazed by what you think of my writing, it really keeps me going.

- (Goodness, thats a bit of a mouthfull) anyway, it's good to hear that you really like this; and it's a kind reminder that people do like this style that I've chosen for Darcy, so thank you.

Rockubyebaby, Alex Believe, Dancing Pinky Flower, Chatnoir1, and Child of Asgaurd; Thank you for the favorites, truly from the bottom of the ocean, thank you beautifuls.

AlleatoryMadness- (Whoa, awesome name!) IT WAS LITTERLY KILLING ME TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO REPLY TO YOUR COMMENT. So, 'Fury' is reffering to 'Nick Fury', so hopefully you know who he is (he's the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the one with the eye patch who keeps showing up in the credits).

And last but not least, thank you Let's Start Rumors; you're a sweet and kind daughter/ex-wife/pet dinosaur (difference?) and thank you for adding me as your favorite author. Guys, check out her page, she's got some Loki/Darcy love fic herself which is pretty damn good.

BROWNIE or cookie (Claire!) WINNER JETSIR; single handedly (if your hands are in a relationship or have a romantic partner, my apologies) found the identity of 'Nick'. I tricked you guys a bit; the 'Nick' mentioned earlier, who's brithday was last week, is Nick Fury. The 'Nick' on Darcy's list is the Nick from the movie 'Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist' (see, I'm sneaky there).

Anywho; could this note get anylonger?

Love you guys, and with all of your awesomeness combined and then turned into individual rainbows and then combined again, Jane would have her end of the Bifrost (it's a compliement; I swear!).

~D.o.t.B.

"I think I need some air."

I practically run out that door and outside the bar, until I can't keep it inside anymore. He's beside me as I up chuck all four glasses of coke and rum and large sips of wine as they splatter; a wet slap against the pavement, a sharp contrast to the once silent night. I stay still for a couple seconds more; hands on my knees for support as I continue to choke back anything else that wanted to come up. This man, Loki, stays on guard behind me.

"Sorry, I only throw up when I'm nervous or scared… I'm not diseased or anything."

"Well, that's always a good thing." I try to look at him from my upside down view; he's cool and collected at his spot leaning against the bar entrance wall, watching me with a detached boredom in his eyes.

Ugh. Even upside down and looking bored he's hot…

(Right now is definitely not the time to be thinking that.)

And yet I am anyway.

I see him approach me but it doesn't register that he's next to me until he grabs me by the forearm and pulls me up, once I'm up a grimace trails his back in a shudder. Silently and without explanation he pulls a napkin from the bar out of his pocket and with a hand locked onto my jaw he cleans up left over pieces of who-the-hell-knows-what stuck on my lips.

(I must be so sexy right now…)

"Your silence is no way to thank me."

"Um, thanks. But it's kind of your fault in the first place…" He pauses, then drops the used napkin to the ground once all the bleh is gone from my face. But his pale, trim skeleton fingers remained fixated on my jaw, forcing me to face him; my neck bent at such an awkward point, but over the nervous beat of a certain muscle in my chest I can ignore it.

(Heart, shut up, stop being so crazy; he's going to hear you and then he's going to rip you out.)

Not helping…

"And how would it be my fault that your stomach emptied its contents on the street?" His dark jade green eyes widen slightly as flecks of understanding illuminate in the street light. He leans in closer, watching me with a crisp smugness fresh on his face, eyes studying as they tic back and forth from the twin holes of his skull.

Not helping...

"Unless you're suggesting that I make you nervous," his face darkening, yet that smug look stayed in place, "Or scared."

THAT'S SO NOT THE POINT.

(But it's both…)

"Why me?" All former smug attitude is gone and he's become serious again.

"Because you might be a crucial key in order for me to get what I want."

Okay…?

I'm a little confused here; has he mistaken me for Jane? 'Cuz I don't see how I can help him.

"And what do you want?" He lets go of my jaw and backs off.

"That answer is unclear." Self disdain and worry are etched in his voice, he sighs, making me almost feel sorry for the guy.

Almost.

Actually, a little more than 'almost'.

(I blame his scrumpdillyumpchious body. I just want to go 'Om nom nom' all over him.)

NOT THE TIME DARCY.

(I bet his sweat tastes like caramel apples.)

"Regardless, I am coming with you."

"What?"

"Did you not hear me?"

"No no no, I heard you. I'm just pretty sure I don't know what you mean."

"I am coming with you."

"And I am going where…?"

"To your place of residence."

(…)

"Sooooooo… I'm taking you home, with me…?"

"Yes."

(MUST. RESIST. URGE TO. FIST PUMP.)

(NUEGH.)

"Oh… okay." I turn to walk to my apartment when he suddenly grabs my forearm, a tight clench that makes me turn to see if anything's wrong.

"What's up?" Question clearly written on my face.

"Nothing." His voice is stern and demands no more questions.

Man, this guy is all kinds of weird.

"Okay…?" I turn around and keep walking, with him as an anchor to keep me from running.

Wait a second…

"Uh, do you know… where I live?"

"Yes."

WHAT? NO BUENO POR FA WHORE. I DON'T WANT HIM TO HAVE THIS INFORMATION WITHOUT MY PERMISSION OR AT LEAST, MY ASSUMPTION.

I turn to look at him fully.

"Dude, that's not okay."

"It's irrelevant information." He doesn't look at me.

Great. I pretty much have a god, stalking me. Fucking great.

(Never mind that he's possibly the sexiest man to enter Earth's atmosphere.)

That's just 'irrelevant information' right now.

The walk is long, and we don't talk to each other; the silence hanging above like a dark cloud.

But we're at my apartment now.

Fuck.

I don't know what to do from here. Does he?

Does he have some evil plan rolled up his sleeve?

"So, Loki, right?" No acknowledgement as he looks at my book case from his seat at the cute little island in my generic kitchen setting.

"Do you want anything to drink?"

"No."

"Well, what do you want?" I'm really sick of his sudden 'meh I'm bored' attitude; not to mention just him in general is kind of pissing me off.

"Temper, temper Darcy. No need for useless anger." His eyes are focused on me now.

"I can't just wait around until you tell me something. Listen, I'm tired, and I've got work tomorrow; so sorry if I'm impatient or temperamental, but I need to get to bed."

He just sits there and watches; elbow resting on the counter, holding his head in his hand, amused smile fixed in place, mirth mixed in his air.

"You humans are so typical."

"Fuck off." A calloused laugh escapes him as I try and leave him there, in turn trying to get him to leave, as make my way to the door to open it up for him.

"Stop faking your anger in an attempt to get me to leave; for I'll tell you now that I won't be going so easily. In fact, as of yet I see no reason to."

"What do you want?"

"What do you want?"

"For you to leave."

"And what then; what will you want then?"

"Sleep." His laugh is cutting and mean.

"And tomorrow morning you'll just want more sleep."

"It was you… Wasn't it? The shadow in my room last night…"

"Yes, yes, and yes again. Congratulations, you've won the big prize, haven't you? You've got it all figured out. Next you'll be asking me if I was the voice in the holding chamber of my armor." The look on my face keeps him going.

"And yes, I was." A smug, rampant smile is carved into his handsome features.

I feel the back of the door brushing against my back; I didn't even know, didn't even realize, that I'd been backing away from him all this time

"Stop."

"I did stop, Darcy. But you just have so many questions." I move away from my cornered space in front of the door, trying not to let myself get vulnerable like that again; next time he might take advantage of it. He seems to back away from himself, where his thoughts were going; but his eyes have found a target and have stayed fixed on it ever since, me. Just the fact that he's been watching practically nonstop is unnerving, but that he's made no move to hide it or act innocent about it makes me scared. Make me feel like if I take my eyes off of him for one second, he'll make his move against me.

I'm standing in front of wooden dresser with a mirror placed above it when he starts walking towards me with arms open, as if to show that he's not dangerous; all signs of whatever insanity he had before is gone, for now.

"But in a way, I have gotten what I wanted."

I have to ask it, he set it up so that I would have to ask it.

"And what is that, Loki?"

"A reaction out of you; I simply wanted to see where you would go if I did nothing."

"And?"

"Well it was very interesting."

"Leave." I point to the door and try not to yawn.

"Why were you at the bar?"

(Of course he ignores my request.)

"I'm not answering that." Realization hits him.

"For the same reason you created that list." He whispers it but his every word is painfully clear to my ears.

(He's right.)

(But I still don't want to hear it.)

"You're lonely. Aren't you?" Him knowing this, the God of Mischief knowing this, it's just another slap in the face. I try to stare at him unwavering as he takes careful steps closer to me, but after a while I have to look away and admit that he's right. I am pathetic, desperate, and very alone.

Fuck.

Shit.

Fuck shit.

"If you tell me what you want, and if it's not too crazy, I might be able to get it for you." He has a strange defiantly sympathetic streak in his bright eyes, but I don't want his sympathy, I don't want his pity; I'm stronger than that. At least that what I try and tell myself.

"What do you think I want?" Curiosity ignites the light yellow in his eyes, and I realize he's only a couple feet from me.

"… My soul…?" I can't hide the fear in my tone.

"Your soul would be an interesting thing to see, but I don't usually deal with souls. I believe that's Hel's job, not mine; and I'd hate to anger her further by taking even a sliver of her responsibility. You'd be surprised, as she doesn't like me very much. If anything, I remember her saying that she wanted my soul." His voice is playful, leaning on a border to comfort me.

(Gee, I can't imagine anyone not liking this asshole.)

Darcy, be nice; this guy could probably kill you in the blink of an eye.

"No," his strides lengthen as he stalks closer, closing more of the distance between us, "It doesn't matter what I want; all that matters, is what you want."

Gracefully his abrupt hands curl around my shoulders, turning me slowly to face the mirror; pressing his body against me, mocking a backwards embrace.

This is so messed up, so fucked up, that it shouldn't feel nice. I shouldn't be enjoying his touch, I shouldn't be having to remind myself to keep breathing, I shouldn't be feeling these butterflies in my stomach, I shouldn't be feeling these warm goose bumps prickling my skin, and I most definitely should not be liking how close his body is.

But I do…

(MOTHER FUCKER.)

(SICK MOTHER FUCKER.)

(A POX UPON HIM FOR BEING SO DAMN BEAUTIFUL.)

And making me feel like this when I might wake up dead tomorrow.

(Ughhh… That doesn't even make sense.)

Then again: what does?

"What makes you think that you know what I want?" I can't fight the cracks splintered in my voice, cracks caused by being close to someone I can't even think about wanting.

But I do

"What lone struck woman does not want a companion," One of his hands move from my shoulder as bitten fingers lightly caress a trail along my collarbone. The other hand pulling back my unruly brown hair as he lowers his mouth to my ear as a breath of rolling air waves against me; his other hand dipping lower to trace half circles dangling in a chandelier underneath the design of bones along my collar. Our eyes collide through the mirror, a private smile printed as he whispers, "Or a lover…?"

(FUCK.)

I have to resist.

Easier said than done.

"So, you can give me anything I want."

"I will give you anything you want."

FUCKING FOCUS DARCY.

I turn around to face him, avoiding his heart piercing eyes by straightening the collar of his black button up suit shirt; once done I hold on to the fabric of his shirt like it's my only life line.

"Well, then I think… That I know… What I want." The words sloppily tumble from my mouth, my expression quirky and sassy, and his eye brows rise as his gaze intensifies.

"Darcy, do tell."

"It really breaks my heart to say this; but I want a promise from you that of those names mentioned in my list, none of their death's will be caused by you or in any way directed by you," Okay, that's most of the Avengers, "But I also want you to promise that you will not cause the deaths of Nick Fury, Natasha Romanoff, Pepper Potts, Betty Ross, Volstagg, Fandral, Hogun, Sif, Erik Selvig, and Jane Foster." That should cover it, any sight of slight happiness has been stripped away from his face, "But; this is all in exchange for me being your eternal servant." His face turns into surprise in its form before a smile coils into place.

(Sacrifice the few for the sake of the many…)

"Is it a deal?" I offer my hand.

"It's a deal." He grasps it securely.

In a swift up and down movement I may have practically sold my freedom.

Something tells me that I'm going to regret this in the morning