disclaimer: i do not own marvel
Chapter 21
A cold hand moved across the bed sheets, finding nothing except unused space and fabric. Not even a trace or imprint of a warm body was left behind on the mattress. During the dark night hours, Loki had managed to grab a hold of one of the soft feather-filled pillows. His left leg was slung over it, leaving the pillow half-cradled in the crook of his knee. This position was degrading. Decent adults did not find themselves waking up in such a precarious position, even if it did feel oddly comforting and made one long for more than just empty bedding. Loki had not slept in such a cradled position since his days as a young teenager.
That is, if you rule out the previous day.
As a small child, Loki regularly sought out his "brother's" companionship. He and Thor used to tell each other tales of foolish bravery and ancient lore until they were so exhausted they fell asleep. Thor snored with the volume of thunder. Yes, even back then he was loud. In the morning, Frigga would wake them up just in time for their respective studies.
Loki devoted his time to sorcery so he could gain control of his powerful, wild abilities. Thor, on the other hand, studied warfare and battle and made new friends with every step. He blindly jumped headfirst into adventure and blatantly ignored the protesting warnings of a much smaller Loki. Eventually, Thor's actions drove the two brothers apart, causing Loki to lose his childlike ignorance and naiveté.
Loki's blue eyes widened as he suddenly woke up, his thoughts unsettled. A thought escaped his lips in a hushed whisper. "What if Thor had listened to me?" What was this? Another effect of his humanity? Or was this merely reminiscing about simpler times, before he knew he was one of the monsters in the tales they told to scare each other at night? Sentiment. I should not dwell on these thoughts. He frowned at this inner turmoil, caused by his newfound human condition. It was probably also linked with this infernal need for touch and affection. His body desired the ridiculous notion of waking up next to a certain brown-haired fool.
A short distance away, the "fool" was having his own similar thoughts upon waking. The kiss the two shared in the lab the previous night had rapidly escalated into longing, feverous touches. As rapidly as the heated actions began, they ended, leaving Tony Stark feeling hot, bothered, and nearly ready to blurt the words Loki had so longed to pull from him.
Afterward, sleep came easily enough for Tony, considering his lack of a decent rest the night before. Sleep, however, came with a high cost—dreams. In the past, Tony's dreams had always been vague, blurry, and purely sexual, but now they had shifted to something even more intense. There was no longer any illusionary border between "Locke" and Loki. They were both different men and yet the same person. It was almost too crazy for words, too insane to be real or said aloud.
Tony Stark missed waking up as the little spoon.
The morning progressed slowly. Captain America got called by S.H.I.E.L.D. to resolve a minor incident. Unfortunately, none of the Avengers trusted the word "minor" anymore. Minor meant that all hell could break loose at any seemingly-perfect moment at exactly the wrong place and exactly the wrong time. Before Steve left, he merely nodded to the others and said, "I'll keep my eyes wide open for anything suspicious."
Tony and Bruce then disappeared into the labs, along with a lifetime supply of coffee and tea (Bruce had found Tony's "hated" herbal tea rather soothing). Work called to the two geniuses; there were things to build, items to discover, and calculations to be made. There had to be a way to locate the renegade Chitauri scouts and trace them back to their point of origin, so they could send them back from where they came.
Loki ran back and forth between the penthouse and Pepper Potts' office. Somehow, he found himself discussing Tony's quirky habits with the Midgardian woman, both of them laughing about it. Pepper was highly amused that he'd gotten the short genius to eat a salad since, according to her, this was quite the accomplishment.
"How did you do it?" Pepper questioned Locke. The tall man had done such an outstanding job so far. None before him had ever accomplished so much in so short a time.
"Let's just say I found the right leverage. Anthony's options were quite limited at the time." Loki could feel Pepper's smiling devilish eyes staring at him in silent approval. "I made Rogers believe he had hemorrhoids. Between the two of us, we decided Anthony needed the change of diet."
Pepper noted that Locke had just used Tony's full name, not "Tony" or "Stark," but Anthony. She herself had only called the engineer that if he'd done something terribly wrong or was in serious trouble. Yet his assistant had used it in a relaxed and casual way, letting her know that the taller man employed it with Tony's knowledge. "You like him," Pepper stated suddenly, getting a wide-eyed look from Locke.
"That's absurd. I wouldn't like that man if he was the last sentient being in the universe." How did this mad devil woman get such a preposterous idea? He would never, not in a million years, grow a fondness for Anthony Stark.
"You're lying to yourself, Locke." The slim red head had seen this enough times before—people telling themself a lie, believing it until they convinced themselves it was true.
"I have told more than enough lies to dissect them from the truth," Loki responded vehemently, reflecting on his earlier thoughts. Except I called him Anthony again.
"You don't even believe what you just said, do you?" Pepper replied, choosing to review the set of documents Locke had just handed over rather than focus on the man himself. She could practically feel the conflicting emotions radiating from the handsome man. "Tony likes you," she admitted. This was definitely something she had seen in the eyes and actions of her friend.
"Again, that's absurd. Anthony could never like me." A monster. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to be on my way. Work is never finished in this place." Loki left knowing that the last thing he'd said had rung clearly with truth; work was never complete, but using it as his excuse for leaving was a lie. Loki left because Pepper's words had made him feel uncomfortable and her calculating, prying eyes were searching for a truth he did not want to give. Even if her words did hold a fraction of accuracy, Stark would be a moron for developing feelings toward him. Even then, Anthony would surely only like the illusion, the persona of "Locke"—a character, a shade of who he truly was deep inside. No one could ever have caring or positive emotions toward a monster.
Not even Loki.
His train of thought was broken by the annoying, sharp ring of his phone. Without checking the Caller ID, he answered. All probability pointed to it being work related anyway. "Yes?"
"Highness! How're you holding up in that high tower?" With that voice came the image of a short, stout, balding man with a giant dark moustache, a wide grin on his wrinkled face.
Loki's stance shifted upon hearing the voice on the other end and his tone became less serious and strained. "Bob?" Loki asked, incredulous.
"Of course it's me, you dolt! I'm back in town. How's about we meet up at the homeless shelter… for old time's sake? We can finally have that meal we were supposed to get ages ago. Lord knows, I have some cash to spare now. I'll finally be able to give those guys something in return for always helping me and the boys out." The stream of words came out rapidly in an enthusiastic and friendly tone. "Well, what do you say, Highness? Think you can fulfil this old man's request?"
Loki didn't have to think for very long. Living in that dump - being sick, wounded, and helpless - fully dependant of the kindness of strangers, he owed this man his gratitude. "I'll be there in an hour, old man Bob."
"Mercy have my soul! Did ya just try to crack a joke? You're not an imposter are you?"
"I am certainly not. Don't be foolish. There are none like me." That was perhaps truer than anything else he had said this day. Not many men could say they had once been a god, wielding grand magical forces, a foe to be reckoned with.
Bob laughed aloud. "See ya soon, Highness." The old man hung up on him.
"Hmm…" Loki hated not having the last word.
"Sir, are you going out?" called an ethereal voice from the ceiling. Jarvis sounded strangely curious about his activities.
"I suppose I am. Tell Anthony he can enjoy his last night of freedom and order pizza or whatever awful junk food he desires."
"Sir, may I inquire as to where you are going?" Jarvis was curious. He and Tony both held the same knowledge about this man: his true identity. The difference was that Jarvis was not prone to let it slip as easily as his creator could. According to the A.I.'s assessment, Tony Stark had already been almost tricked into "spilling the beans."
"I'm going to meet an old friend." Without thinking further on the A.I's words, Loki went down to the tower's exit.
His arrived exactly forty-seven minutes after the phone call ended, early, but not in an unfashionable way. The whole environment was grey and dull, just like he remembered, except even more so. The store into which Anthony's red sports car had crashed was still under construction. The entire area seemed depressing and desolate. The only movement consisted of an elderly woman walking a golden retriever, some cars, and a public transportation bus.
From across the road, a familiar voice called out in joy. "Look at ya! You really are a real Highness now. Hardly recognise ya from the wreck of the man I got to know. Good to see you again, my friend!" Bob crossed the road easily enough and gave him a pat on the shoulder at the last comment. The older man looked pretty much the same with a big, warm bright smile on his face. He was much cleaner though and was dressed in clothes that actually fit him now. "Looks like work has been kind to both of us. Come on, let's get inside and pay handsomely for some grub."
Inside, it was quiet. Only one table was occupied and neither of them recognised the man sitting there. Even for an afternoon on a weekday, the soup kitchen was ridiculously still. Bob knew this from experience, since he had dined there many times or made use of the shower when he could.
Loki noticed Bob's mood shifting from happiness to worry, a thing he had never witnessed from the older man. Even when Loki was sick and injured, the man had seemed ever optimistic and hopeful. "What's bothering you?" The ex-god had a sneaking suspicion he would not like the outcome of this day.
"It's too still here. There's not a drifter or homeless person in sight. It ain't normal," replied the older man, face wrinkled by distress. "Maybe they're back at the bridge…I don't know."
Loki realized he should show some consideration and help the man out. Wasn't this what humans did to settle a debt? "Do you want to go look, Bob? We can go back to that place that used to be your home." And my refuge for a while. Whatever disconcerting feeling the Midgardian had was now enveloping Loki, making the hairs on the back of his neck rise.
Aside from the normal movements on the street—such as people returning from work, teenagers carrying overly large bags, and women shopping—neither of them passed a beggar or a recognisable poor man's face. Even the spot where a young woman used to hang out almost seemed void of life. Loki looked about uneasily. "I don't like the feeling here, Bob. I fear your worry is justified."
"I hate it when I'm right. I haven't had the chance to say it yet, but it's nice to hear ya say my name." Bob looked up at the darkening clouds. Rain slowly started to fall from the sky onto his face. They neared the bridge under the cover of a gloomy blackening sky.
Shacks and small make-shift homes from plywood and scraps still stood upright, but the cardboard boxes were soaked with water from the rain and slumped down under the weight. No fires were lit in any of the surrounding circular metal containers. An eerie silence hung in the air like a thick mist, making it hard to breathe. There wasn't a soul alive in the usually busy area except for a black cat with ragged fur and crusted ears from old battle wounds. A very unsettling thought buried itself in Loki's mind, one that he hoped was not true. "Bob?" he called out tentatively, not too loud but still loud enough to be heard.
"Hey!" replied the older man with enthusiasm, looking at the ground beneath his feet as if it was the first time he'd seen it. "This place isn't fully deserted. There's still some footprints." Loki could tell that Bob was still worried and was trying to convince himself that the new discovery had to mean something positive. After all, anything had to better than this awful gut-wrenching emptiness.
"Get out of here," Loki suddenly urged. His friend did not listen; he was too emerged in his discovery.
I called him a friend…
Stranger things had happened before and he hadn't time to dwell on his word choice for too long. Before giving it another thought, he shouted in Bob's general direction, hoping to get through to the stubborn old man. "Bob! Get out of here right now!" That had to get the attention of the previously homeless man, along with the possibility of a few other unwanted listeners as well.
Bob's feet shifted quickly in the mud. He backed away upon hearing the warning call of his friend. This place was abandoned. No, not abandoned - left behind to rot and gather dust.
An inhuman noise suddenly sounded from the nearby walls, deep within the shadows cast by a sharp jutting ledge. Whatever had been hiding in the darkness was slowly awakening from the noise caused by the two men wandering around. The thing made a noise—a signal, a sound that was a strange combination of a scrape, a screech, and a hiss. "What is that?" panted Bob, already losing his breath after a few meters of impromptu jog, cursing his horrible stamina.
Loki despised what he had to do next, even if he had no other right choice. His will to survive was far greater than the bruising that would be done to his ego. His usually nimble fingers fumbled in the pocket of his vest as he searched for a small device. After finding his phone, he hit the first button on speed-dial, automatically connecting him to Jarvis.
"Sir—" Jarvis began, but Loki quickly cut him off.
"Get Anthony right now!" Loki yelled, turning his head as he heard the sound he'd been dreading.
They were here.
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special thanks to swordmisstress, who puts up with all my shit:p
and to sinister banana who also betad for this chapter