Warnings: Language, adult situations, possible violence, allusions to mature subject matter (ie. Various forms of assault/torture/etc.)
Summary: What do you get when you mix embittered!depressed!enraged!Loki (doing time on Midgard) and Christmas together? Tony Stark wants to find out, especially when he begins to realize that the God of Mischief needs a little bit of Christmas cheer. Of course, Thor is in. Who else comes along for the ride? Will you?
Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome (especially this is my first time writing for Avengers fandom)!
Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.
OK. MONSTER UPDATE! 6,000 words. AHHKKK! It's the Messiah's fault! No really. It is.
In other news. ESL Winter Camp going OK. Next time I update will most likely be Saturday night.
Hope you enjoy this new update! Chapter 29 - AKA In which Steve is a Boss and Homeless People Rock!
Give me a shout!
Christmas Magic
Chapter 29
All the King's Horses
"Wandering wisemen
What did you bring to his bed
Shapeless surprises
Incense to bring to the dead
Nothing is wrong, it's what she did
All the kings horns and kings men
Nothing is wrong its what she did
All the kings horns and kings men"
("All the King's Horns" - sung by Sufjan Stevens)
There is something wrong here, Steve thought as he watched Pepper and the clerk finally wrap up Loki's and Thor's gingerbread house (now properly photographed 'for Mother'). It was a very, very good first attempt. The licorice along the eaves may not have been straight, the sheer amount of icing would make it impossible for it to be dismantled and eaten, and every single piece of candy allotted to the gingerbread house package had been used (much to Loki's horror). But it was a merry looking house, not exactly a replica of the model in the middle of the room, having its own distinctive Asgardian flavour. You could see Thor's generosity and Loki's sense of aesthetics. A very Odinsson gingerbread house.
It had been a good evening, for the most part. No quarrelling. No serious Loki-baiting on Tony's part. That had seemed to have ended with the snowball fight. Steve's eyes rested on Loki who stood a little apart from the crowd in Starbucks, eyeing everyone with disfavour, hand clutching his cake pop. The chocolate sprinkled treat hadn't been touched yet – but it was being eyed with increasing desire.
Loki likes sweet things. He's a stragetist, thinking through long-term options. He's a survivor. He's intelligent and resourceful. He's mildly suicidal. Definitely depressed and desperate. He's human, just like us. Steve thought.
His gaze drifted out the window to where a small park lay across the street. Like many, it had a bunch of Santa and reindeer set up complete with elves and baggage. And a Nativity. The Nativity. He drew closer to the window and peered out past the creeping frost and fog, his gaze dwelling on the plastic lit figures of Mary, Joseph and Baby Jesus. God come down to man.
They call themselves gods, Steve thought. But I stand by what I said that night in the quinjet. That isn't what God looks like at all. Loki... Thor... Odin... God isn't a pawn. He isn't careless or thoughtless. He isn't a bad parent. We see them as immortals and incredible beings but we must never confuse that with the reality of what they are. Of who Loki is...
The Super Soldier turned just in time to see Loki nibble at his cake pop – and then flinch as a camera flash went off in his face. The girls were oooh-ing and awwww-ing over the 'cuteness' – and Steve wondered if this would go in the increasingly thick album which would be sent to Loki and Thor's mother eventually. Frowning, the blonde super soldier made his way back over to the group of seated superheroes and dragged forward a seat for Loki and himself. After a moment, Loki sat down beside him.
"Put the camera away," Steve said mildly, but his eyes brooked no argument. "It's enough that we have all this mechanized, flashing, noisy stuff cluttering up Christmas time without having cameras and phones and things making it that much more... modernized and documented and... I don't know."
"Remind me to make you a time machine," Tony snorted. "So you can go back to the Dark Ages and celebrate your Christmas – heck, the rest of your life in the traditional ways you know and love. If you aren't happy, at least we'll be free of your Debbie-downer vibes."
"Tony," Pepper smacked Tony on the arm. "Stop it! Sorry, Steve. Tony just doesn't know when to stop."
"That I can believe," muttered Loki.
Bruce set down two Starbucks cups down in front of Steve and Loki. Glancing upward inquiringly, Loki blinked before turning to Steve, green eyes watching the Soldier closely. Steve reached forward to the hot drink, sipped it and nodded.
"Thanks, Bruce. I owe you one."
"No problem," replied the quiet scientist. "For my fellow hot chocolate lovers."
"It's hot chocolate," Steve said to Loki.
"I heard," was the caustic reply.
"It's best drunk when hot."
Clutching his cake pop, Loki leaned forward and retrieved his drink. After a few minutes, he was relaxing against the chair as the drink slid down his throat. The group stayed there for an hour, chatting, talking, laughing. Sharing stories. Making fun of the most recent super villains. Parroting the most famous monologues. Avoiding the subject of portals and Chitauri and SHIELD and Asgard. Avoiding Loki.
Sitting there, on the edge of the circle, the dark-haired man at his side, Steve wondered if this was how Loki felt all the time. Sitting on the outside. Always looking in. It was something he could sympathize with as a man who was walking out of time, struggling to connect even years after waking.
It's getting better, Steve thought. But it's still lonely at times. You are isolated. Never able to belong. Loki too.
Loki too.
-0-0-0-
"Loki."
No reply.
"Loki?"
Steve stepped forward to place a hand on Loki's shoulder. At his touch, Loki started a little, obviously coming out of a deep thought – something he was prone to doing more and more often these days. Distressing. Who knows where he goes in there... and it's not like I can force him to talk about it...
"Sorry," he said, trying to reassure the still silent dark-haired ex-God of Chaos. "I didn't mean to disturb you..."
"And yet here you are," Loki replied coolly. Then added, mockingly, "How can I help you?"
"I was wondering if you liked music."
Now he felt like an idiot. Loki's eyebrow rose and the corner of his lips quirked upward in an ironic smile.
"Music?"
"Yes. This time of year – there are many kinds of concerts you can go to. I was wondering if you'd like to go tomorrow night with me to a classical concert."
"Similar to the dancing wenches, I suppose. The Avengers have yet another tradition to fulfil? And they wish to watch me squirm through yet another gaudy monstrosity of a recital?"
"Actually, it's just me." Steve sighed.
"Really."
"And there are no dancing wenches."
"Ah. That explains it," laughed Loki a little unkindly.
"Yes. Well. It's just singing. And an orchestra."
"Orchestra."
"A large group of musicians together."
"I see."
"Just you and me," Steve said. "I thought we'd pop by a steakhouse and then check out the Messiah at this local cathedral – Pepper found it. She wanted to come too but duty calls."
"Son of Stark calls."
"Yeah," laughed Steve. "Something like that."
"Hm."
"Or you don't."
"Pardon?" Loki blinked.
Steve sighed.
"You don't have to come with me. It's just that I have two tickets. I wanted to offer one to you first. But, if you think music is a drag..."
"So I may say no?" Loki asked, clearly not believing he heard Steve correctly.
"Well, yeah," Steve sighed.
He eased up by Loki, shoulder to shoulder and looked out at the New York vista which spread out below their feet – the finest view of New York courtesy of Stark Towers. Some days, it felt like you were flying. He could see why Loki would be drawn to it.
"Listen. I know that – well, I can guess how hard this is. This whole thing is." Steve hesitated. "I can't – I can't pretend to fully know how you feel because I'm not you. And I didn't survive years of imprisonment and, uh, stuff. But I do know what it's like to stand on the outside and look in. And I, um, don't want to force you to join me. But I hope you will. If you like you music, if you want to come, I'll be at the elevators at four-thirty tomorrow. Steakhouse. Followed by The Messiah."
Loki did not reply. Steve turned away with a quiet sigh, chest feeling a bit tighter than he would like. A workout is in order, he thought. I'm going to need to punch something tonight.
"Steve," Loki's soft voice broke the silence. A pause, then: "Thank you."
-0-0-0-
Stately. Like the court of Asgard in full regale. A deeply formal function, slow and stately and full of ritual. The music flowed from the stage, the stringed instrument evoking resonating memory with each fall of notes.
A miniscule pause, then it was if the air became light with the sound of rising, light notes. The pipes and other flute-like instruments were added. Energy, vigour and vitality entwined in the air – he could feel it resounding in the particles around him. A kind of magic, light-hearted and free like the bird rising on the wind, wings outstretched in the broad expanse of blue sky. And he soared with it, born by the sweet rush of melody.
A pause. Then, it began again. Slow, soft... A man's voice rising. He closed his eyes and listened.
Comfort ye my people. Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem... and cry unto her that her warfare is accomplish'd... that her inquity is pardon'd...
This, this is beauty, he thought. Perhaps not all of Midgard is lost if it can create something like this. Once again, this Realm has surprised me with its capacity... for beauty as well as meanness and violence.
Every valley shall be exalted...
And the glory of the Lord shall be exalted... and the flesh shall see it together, for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken...
The music lightened. Darkened. A story began to take shape. A multitude of iniquity covered by a gift of forgiveness. It seemed impossible to Loki – and yet, there were people here who sat and listened and believed. Glancing to his right, Loki noticed that Steve's eyes held that flame of hope too. There was a smile on the Soldier's face. On any other day, Loki might have laughed at him, but this evening, surrounded by beauty, his belly full and knowing that his choice had not led him astray, Loki could not in all consciousness mock anything here.
There followed more music and more singing. Something about a virgin having a baby, which made him snort disbelievingly. But then the lyrics and music took hold of him again and would not let him go.
The people that walked in the darkness have seen a great light.
And they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined.
The windowless cell in the dungeons of Asgard's palace. Svartalheim. The Pit. How long had he sat in the dark, with nothing but his memory and slowly forming regret? How long had he sat there until the flames of his bitterness and rage had slowly cooled and then died? Then had come the day when the heavy lid had been shifted and five guards had descended to wrestle his unresisting self onto the lowered platform. When he was thrown on the floor far above the night world he had huddled in, Loki could not open his eyes even in the dim light of the dungeon – and when he managed to pry one eye open just a crack, it was to find that he had been forced to his feet before his father and brother. Not-father. Not-brother. His bro – not-brother – Thor had started forward and drawn him into a hug with a cry that seemed more like a sob than a cry of joy. And the pressure – the light – the hands – he had lashed out.
Dragging his memory away from that day, Loki focused on the words now forming. Something about a baby being born and shepherds in the fields. And angels. Angels? What were they? Loki had no idea. Still, it continued and he sat back, allowing the woman's voice to drift inward, easing the tension in his shoulders and back, thankful that Steve had not made any comment about Loki's tension.
Goodwill towards all men...
Goodwill. Loki glanced again at Steve. Was this Steve's Christmas? It seemed rather different from the Christmas he had seen in New York. Goodwill and peace and joy. No. Definitely not the feeling of tension and pressure he had found in the third ring of Hel. The marketplace. Nor the superficial jollities of Stark's Son, Barton and Pepper. Or the empty actions of his brother who played at being a mortal. This is different.
He shall lead his flock like a shepherd... and he shall gather the lambs with his arm... and carry them in his bosom...
Come unto him all ye that labour, come unto him that are heavy laden, and he will give thee rest.
... and ye shall find rest unto your soul...
For the first time in a long time, Loki felt as though his entire body was aflame with a liquid fire as though his very bones were molten lava. His spine had settled downward and his legs were splayed out, his arms at ease with his fingers intertwined with each other in a loose clasp. Loki's coat lay beside him, surrounded as he was by the heat of the mortals now sitting shoulder to shoulder in the long wood trestles with convenient backs. Pews, the Son of Rogers had called them.
There was another pause.
"Part Two," whispered Steve. "There are three parts. If you get bored, let me know and we can creep out."
"Nonsense," Loki replied quickly. "We are here now. Might as well... enjoy the quiet while we can. Besides, what is there to return to?"
"Good point."
Steve eased back nodding and for a moment, Loki regretted showing his cards. Now Steve would think him ungrateful for what the Avengers had done. Food and shelter and protection against the more vengeful mortals, yes. But Loki also had known it would come at a great cost. This place is a sanctuary in comparison, Loki thought, his eyes tracing the artful molding, following the graceful lines of architecture which reminded him of Asgard's great halls. That and the coloured pictured glass which would glow with unearthly colours he guessed if sunlight were to fall through.
No. There is nothing to return to, Soldier, Loki smiled to himself bitterly. Thor and his insipid woman. Who is intelligent, yes. But a mouse and not worthy of a warrior of Asgard. Simpering mewling wretch. Son of Stark and his – Loki found himself unable to think too badly of Pepper. Yes, she has the brazen confidence of a fool, but she is kind. Like Roger's Son. And she hits Stark so freely. More than a pawn, but less than a hero. Not unlike Loki. Not unlike you. Me. Not unlike me. Never mind. Then there was Barton and Romanoff's Daughter no doubt in the corner licking their wounds and plotting his demise – that or making love like the rest of the couples. The amount of slowly building romance in the air was enough to choke him. Cloying and disturbing. As if there weren't enough weakling mortals on this planet.
No. It doesn't bear thinking on. Focus, Loki. Focus.
He gave his back to the smiters...
He hid not his face from shame...
He was despised and rejected, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief...
A good man bending to receive unwarranted punishment at the hands of lesser beings. Loki glanced over at Steve. Did the man know what this story was about? But then, this does seem like the thing that Roger's Son would embrace. Perhaps this is why the others pity him. But they cannot mock him. This is something that cannot deserve laughter – A good man bending to recieve unwarranted punishment at the hands of beings he came to help. No. Not even I can laugh at that.
All we like sheep have gone astray...
He was cut off out of the land of the living...
Thou didst not leave his soul in hell...
Lift up your heads, o ye gates...
Wait. Sorry. This person went from Hel to Valhalla? Loki's eyes darted to Steve. Was this some other mythological tale that the Midgardians liked to listen to as they did about Loki and his people? Not my people. My not-people. No. My – not-my-people people. The Aesir. Or... This was too confusing. It did not bear thinking on.
At any rate, the story became more and more exciting as the minutes passed. The voices grew stronger and stronger. The strings and the pipes and the other strange instruments swelled with triumph until the end. Even Steve was beginning to nod along with the music, as the tone of the whole piece became lighter.
Let all the angels of God worship Him...
Thou art gone on high...
Why do the nations rage so furiously together...
Loki was suddenly sent back to the first time he had let his newest horse out to gallop across the wide plain by the capital. It was a young black steed which his father had allowed to pick out from the newly culled stable younglings. Thor had chosen a brown and white stallion, but Loki was glad for his choice. The creature had responded well to him – and now they rode together as one.
Thor was beside him, a few paces alongside, whooping and laughing as the horses moved under them. The wind blew back in his hair – he was a bird on the wing, on the back of his fastest steed, on the sled going down an never-ending slope of hill. He was free.
For the Lord God the Omnipotent reigneth... Hallelujah..
People were for some reason getting to their feet.
And he shall reign for ever and ever...
King of Kings, Lord of Lords...
For ever and ever, hallelujah, hallelujah...
Loki slowly followed suit, looking about dazed as he realized many were singing along, including Steve. Green eyes closed as he let the strains of music wash over him. He wasn't sure what he was feeling at the moment – but it didn't feel dark or oppressed.
There was no shame nor happiness nor anger... It was just him. Loki. With Steve who did not press on him. With the music. With something else that he could not measure in this small moment of happiness.
Applause thundered, but Loki found no strength to move his hands. Only to sit with the others when everyone returned to their seats. It was if he was entirely drained of everything – empty of everything. Just waiting. Waiting for what? I'm not sure...
Something soft pressed into his hand. He looked down. A wrinkled hand from the old lady on right, holding something soft and white. Loki stared at and then slowly accepted the second one pressed in his hand. A napkin. His green eyes rose to meet faded grey-blue ones and the old lady smiled, touching her cheek.
A soprano soared. The Captain was saying something about Part Three before stuttering to stop, blue eyes wide as his gaze rested on Loki.
I know that my Redeemer liveth.
Loki blinked then and his fingers rose awkwardly to his cheeks. Wet. He had been crying. Oh. Oh. By the Norns, he was a pathetic mess. If the spell wasn't placed on me, I would bury myself and allow myself to be content with Hel. And the Soldier... The Soldier patted him on the arm. Loki wanted to tear the man's arm off – no, no you do not. He is a fool, yes. But a kind one. He brought you to something beautiful and deserving to be heard. Nothing crass or superficial. Something close to him.
So Loki wiped his face awkwardly, hunching a little in a vain attempt to hide his shameful display of weakness, glad that no one here seemed to be there mocking him. The old lady herself seemed to have been crying as well.
Small mercies, Loki.
Small mercies? Small mercies? You just compared yourself – justified yourself – at the level of an aged mortal woman.
He sighed. It could be worse, could it not?
When it ended, Loki felt exhausted, despite the fact that he had done nothing that day of note – besides eating at a steakhouse and enjoying a Midgardian concert. But the exhaustion felt... good. As they left the temple (church, the Soldier called it a church), Steve insisted on getting him an 'early Christmas present' – a recording of the group's Messiah.
"We'll get Jarvis to play it for you tonight, before bedtime," Steve said. "It's soothing, isn't it? I'm getting one for myself – this group's really good, right?"
"Yes," Loki said reluctantly. "They are." Pause. "Many... thanks..."
"It's no problem, Loki," Steve smiled at the ex-God of Mischief's half-whispered thanks. "I am glad you weren't bored. Most people are."
"People with no taste or awareness of beauty," sniffed Loki. "I may not have spent much time in the musical arts, but as prince of Asgard –" He winced. "Well, at any rate, when we were young, Mother tried to ensure Thor and I were properly tutored in dance and music."
"Let me guess, Thor wasn't too great."
"Well, later, much later, when Thor was of age and interested in the intricacies of... well," Loki hesitated. "When he discovered the joys of wenching, Thor grasped dance rather well."
"You must've done well too."
"Of course," bristled Loki. "I may not be the perfect warrior as my brother, but I was considered very... graceful in my day. And I did adequately master the gittern – at least enough to play various songs for when we were on adventures."
"So if I got you an, um, gittern and some music sheets, you could technically play songs?"
"I have no desire to play for anyone."
"Did Thor make you play songs for him and his buddies up in Asgard?" asked Steve.
They were now getting on Steve's retro motor bike, Steve double-checking the straps under Loki's chin were fastened correctly. The dark blue helmet fit snugly around the ex-God's head and Steve slipped his on as well before revving up the motor.
"Hold tight."
"You said that last time. I am no child," Loki grumbled back in his ear.
Steve pulled away from the curb, Loki clinging to his waist carefully, his grip easing after a few minutes.
"Well?" Steve yelled back. "You didn't answer my question."
"Yes."
"Yes, Thor forced you to play songs?"
"Yes. Sometimes. I did not mind. It was fun to amuse people and poke sly fun as I twisted the lyrics... Can you go faster?"
"Not really," Steve said regretfully. "Not in the city. But... we could go out for a run in the countryside, if you wanted. I promise to take you out to a back road and we can practice a few runs, if you like."
"I will hold you to that."
"Sure."
Pause. They came to a red light and idled for a moment.
"And Thor is not my brother." Loki had to add. "I am tired. It is a force of habit which returns when I tire. But he is not my brother."
"Never said he was," Steve said.
"Yes. Right." Pause. "Well..."
"But he is," he added impishly. "And you know it."
-0-0-0-
"So... tomorrow we are going to be working with a homeless foundation charity thing," Tony was saying. "Not sure of the name – Pepper has all that stuff. But basically, Stark Industries is giving a ton of money to keep some homeless people off the street for Christmas. Thank Loki, everyone. His plight hit this stone heart and suddenly, it only seemed right to help the people who had welcomed our resident ex-war criminal and pressed him into its not so warm bosom and –"
"You can stop at any time, Tony," Bruce said mildly.
"Tony," Steve said. "Let's try to get this meeting done in a timely manner. Pepper. Why don't you lead us out?"
"Thanks, Steve." Pepper gave Tony a look. Tony subsided. "OK, guys. So. Tony is kinda right. Stark Industries has always given a charitable donation to a foundation every Christmas. This year, what with the Avengers all in town and everything, I thought it would be awesome to actually do something – besides giving money. So, for supper, we're going to work at a soup kitchen. Sing some carols and hang out with a few homeless people."
"We hang out with a homeless person all the time," Clint grumbled. "But hey... fine..."
"My brother is NOT homeless," Thor frowned. "Asgard is his home. Stark Industries is his home. Midgard has become his home. You will give my brother the respect he deserves."
"Uhhhh –"
But before Clint could say anything (or die at the mental hands of Loki), Tony butted in. He would, sighed Steve.
"Hey, hey, Clint. Thor's right. Loki's not homeless. Just... house-less?"
"Well, if we go by that," Steve pointed out. "Then I'm houseless. And so is Thor."
"Yeah," Bruce sniffed. "I lived on the streets, too – think I was hanging at the Hilton or something in Calcutta, Barton? I resent your comment."
"Fine, fine," Clint raised his hands. "Forget I said that."
"Asgard is not my home, Thor," Loki put in. "And I am not your brother."
"Yes, you are," was the renewed chorus.
"EVERYONE!" Pepper's sharp shout caused everyone to freeze and then guiltily turn to look at the red-head. "OK. Glad to see that everyone is as immature as a kindergartener. So. What carols should we sing. Let's choose five of them."
"Carols?" Thor asked. "The songs? I can sing one or two."
"Jingle Bells. That's a classic," Jane suggested. "And Thor knows it."
"Jingle Bells is good," Natasha sighed.
"Short and sweet," Clint added.
"Jingle Bells," wrote down Pepper.
"We Wish You a Merry Christmas," Bruce leaned forward. "We could end with that."
"Sure."
"Hear, hear!"
"Uhhhhh, how about something traditional?" Steve asked. "Silent Night?"
"I second that," Loki said. "If anyone cares to hear my opinion on the matter."
"Let us do Silent Night," Thor raised a fist, happy to agree with his brother. "This sounds like a very good list of music."
"Away in the Manger is a short one too," Natasha grudgingly suggested. "And it's traditional."
"OK. We've got four." Pepper said. "One more."
"Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer," Tony said. "And – hey – what – guys! C'mon! It's a standard Christmas song – and has a great message. Strange people can be heroes too! Right?"
"It is about a hero deer," Loki admitted.
"And it is very popular," Steve said slowly. "We'll do it – but no one is going to make fun – or point at Loki or do anything stupid on stage – or Thor and I will personally show them our rendition of Hulk mopping the floor. And not with Loki this time. Right, Thor?"
"Most certainly," Thor nodded.
"I don't need your help protecting myself," Loki snapped. "It is a song. That is all."
"Well, then, we have five," Pepper corralled them again. "Jane, what do you think of the list order?"
"Looks good to me."
"OK. So we have... Jingle Bells, followed by Silent Night, Away in the Manger, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and then We Wish You A Merry Christmas. Any objections? No? None? OK. Let's meet in the lobby at one o'clock tomorrow."
-0-0-0-
So far, the evening had gone well. Almost too well. It had begun with a sit down coffee time with the Avengers hanging out and playing cards with a bunch of old dudes in a large community centre which had been funded by the foundation. Pepper and Jane had disappeared to double-check the sleeping accommodations for the men, while the rest of the Avengers relaxed and played games, waiting for the cooks to call them into help serving the large group.
Fending off lecherous looks and sly innuendos, Natasha sat down for a serious game of Poker with Stark and six others. Clint, Thor and a few men were outside having a cigarette. Clint, assuring Natasha that it was a one-off social smoke, had suckered Thor into trying the stuff. Thor wasn't enjoying it so far. Jane wouldn't be happy, either. No sirree. But that was part of the fun.
Steve, Bruce and Loki were at another game of poker. Once he learned the rules, Loki turned out to be a wicked opponent. Bruce made a mental vow to get Loki, Natasha and Stark in a game together. With Fury. Yes. That is the stuff dreams – or nightmares – are made of... They were well immersed when another group of men showed up and suddenly, there was a cry of recognition.
"Well, if it isn't Loony!"
"Loki!"
"Paddy. Barker. Jacko." Loki rose, discarding his hand gracefully.
Ignoring Tony's snort of laughter, Loki drew closer. Paddy pulled Loki into a quick embrace, not allowing the ex-God to get too awkward with his inability to respond. The tall mortal seemed to look just fine – unmarked by any return of Niels' gang. Loki felt glad, which made him pause before shaking hands with the two others. Jacko's beard had been combed and even Barker looked like he had gotten a new jacket.
"Well met," Loki said quietly. "And you three look... in good health. For mortals."
"Yeah, well, we do what we can, m'boy."
"So you're with the Avengers now?" Jacko asked. "You made your choice?"
"Yes..." Loki hesitated. "But you have not returned to your homes?"
"We decided to hang together this year," Paddy smiled. "Emile disappeared about three days ago. Who knows. Maybe the statues got him. And Bobby... I think there's some girl now. I dunno. They come and go."
"And Niels?"
"No need to worry. The cops got'em."
"Yeah. All's quiet on the Western front," Paddy grinned. "And now there's a hot meal and some bunks to be had for a month! Loki, you've brought us some good luck!"
Odin was rolling in his grave (sort of prematurely). The Norns were no doubt all aflutter as the world order turned on its head again, courtesy of the now powerless God of Chaos.
"Ah. That was none of my doing."
"He lies," Bruce said easily, coming up to join Loki. "Loki really helped us remember that we all share this city and we need to help the people around us."
"You do that already," Jacko had to point out. "You know... fighting super villains and stuff. Like that wacko Mole guy last year. He did a number on the underground."
"I don't know," Steve shrugged, turning in his seat to watch Loki carefully, surprised at how relaxed Loki was around Paddy and his friends. There was friendship here. Unbelieveable. Or maybe not. Totally understandable – if you took the time to think. Bruce has obviously been thinking. "It's one thing to fight some bad guy – but it's another thing to make a difference in the hearts of people."
"Well, we appreciate it nonetheless," Paddy replied. "Whatcha playing, Loki?"
"Poker," Loki smiled. And Steve nearly dropped his cards at the sight of the sincere small smile which graced the ex-God's face. "I was winning."
"You would. Deal us in. What are we betting with?"
"Pennies?" Jacko was leaning over the table now.
"Seriously?" Barker complained, sitting down. "We should up the ante a bit!"
"Your gambling habits never change, do they?" grunted Jacko. "Pennies sound good to me."
"That your stash, Loki?" Paddy pointed at a large pile at one end of the table.
"All mine," Loki said smugly. "We should redistribute it so everyone can start with the same amount again."
"Smug bastard," grumbled Bruce, but there was no real malice in his voice.
After another half hour of playing cards, there was more hanging out. Eventually the Avengers disappeared into the kitchen to help start carrying out the food and set up the tables. Loki gamely volunteered himself without prompting from Pepper, which earned him a smile and a look of pride on the part of his brother. Not-brother. Thor.
This was getting difficult to remember.
Contrary to Tony's and Clint's predictions, Loki made no attempt to poison the food. Nor did he try to eat it. Although he should eat more, Steve sighed. He is still too thin for his height – but Thor says he was always a light eater... Maybe he misses Asgardian food.
There was singing. Thor and Loki sang for two songs – Thor, boisterously and just a little off tune; Loki, more quietly and on tune, if not very confident. The music wasn't as beautiful or uplifting as the Messiah, but rather energetic. As promised, there was no one looking at Loki during the reindeer song and some of the men on the floor even joined in. Everyone applauded and asked for a ladies-only encore. A few jokes were bandied about regarding the Rockettes.
"I look good in heels," Tony yelled back, grinning, as he left the stage. "But not that good."
Making their way over to the table, they discovered that some men were coming back for more, which meant – serving time once again. Tony, standing in front of the table, poured the drinks while Loki went around the back and took up his station behind the potato stew.
"I am surprised you do not wear heels more often," Loki agreed, flashing Tony a shark-like grin. "What with your height disadvantage."
"Yuck it up, Reindeer Games, at least I don't look like a cow."
Paddy and Jacko frowned as Loki froze at the words which had just emerged from Tony's mouth. His grip tightened on ladle as a memory arose. Thor's coronation day. Just before they had made their entrance.
Some do battles, and some do tricks...
You do not want to start this again, do you, cow?
Tony was still talking. As if from far away, but the words still pierced Loki's consciousness. His heart.
"That's what your brother used to call you, didn't he? Told us that last night. Something about you looking like a cow. Funny cows you must've had in Asgard."
You are incapable of sincerity.
I have looked forward to this day as much as you have, brother and friend. Sometimes I am envious, but never doubt – I love you.
"So now we've got another name for you. Reindeer Games, Rock of Ages. Loony. Cow –"
Paddy's fist suddenly connected with Tony's jaw. Watching as the short man staggered back, blood trickling just a bit from his lip, Paddy drew back and glanced at the taller ex-God contritely.
"Uhhh... Loki. Sorry. My fist slipped."
"What is going on here?" Natasha was suddenly pulling Tony back and away from the others. Heads were turning and she rolled her eyes as Pepper's voice rose in her mind. Men.
"Tony couldn't keep his mouth shut, as usual," Bruce said. "Here. I'll have a look at that. He'll be fine. What a baby."
"Why are you apologizing to Loki?" Tony asked incensed. Fingers still on his lower lip, brown eyes sparkling with a little irritation.
"He talks too much, doesn't he?" Paddy ignored the man and held out his bowl, which Loki took, eyes wide and unsteadily filled up with another ladle full of soup.
"Just like on TV," Jacko said in awe. "You punched Anthony Stark, dude! That's... ballsy."
"Sue me," Paddy shrugged. "It's not like I've got anything to pay. And time in prison only means regular food every day. I don't need his charity anyway. Neither do you, Loki."
"I know," Loki replied. "It is no matter."
"'Sticks and stones can hurt my bones but words can never hurt me'? That's a lie," Paddy said bluntly. "You punch him out if he gets too big for his britches."
Loki glanced down at the stew. I can do nothing – but... perhaps that is just as well. Otherwise, I would sink to Stark's level and condemn myself with even more regrettable, reprehensible actions. Loki smiled then. Still, it is good to see the Son of Stark get a taste of his own medicine. And it is interesting to see that, as always, the Man of Iron is not afraid to take what he dished out.
"Would you like a second serving?" Loki asked, raising another ladle and waving it at Jacko.
"Of course. Lay it on me. Thanks, bud." Jacko paused. "Niels is gone and I know you don't wanna stir up the gangs in our end of town, but if things get too rough for you, this here centre's always open. They're really kind and now our winter is basically set. Thanks to the dickwad over there."
"He means no harm," Loki tried again.
"Yeah, well, he's an idiot," Paddy snorted, accepting some bread from Jane who smiled at him.
"Sometimes, he is," Jane agreed. "But he needs to hear it from other people – not just us. So... you know, thanks. Here's some more stuffing."
"I'll talk to him later," sighed Pepper, bustling past. "With him and Bruce gone, Nat, can you man the drinks?"
"Sure," Natasha shrugged. "Let me know if another Loki fight breaks out."
"I did not instigate this," Loki said. "Nor did I take part in it."
"No. I know. You just... cause trouble by being there. It's like bad luck, you know?" the red-head grinned up at the tall Asgardian. "You hear about karma?"
"Karma? I am not familiar with that term."
"Well, it's a bitch."
"I see."
He didn't really.
The evening ended with a rendition of Auld Lang Syne, begun by Paddy, and beer (ordered as an apology by Tony at the last minute). Pepper, shaking her head, watched as everyone sung and swayed with the tune. Loki, on the edge looking in, did not join at first. But when Steve pushed him a bit forward and when Bruce raised a toast to Christmas and the New Year, Loki raised his glass silently as well.
It isn't over, Steve knew. But somehow I think we'll end up in the right place. Somehow. What ever has gone wrong... it'll be fixed. It's Christmas. Just another chance for a miracle.
Yep. So... stuff is now... moving. Sort of. Loki is getting better. Not all of the Avengers are OK. But we'll get there. Next chapter is...
HOCKEY!
