Heyo, Lunchies!

I'm astounded. Absolutely gobsmacked at the lot of you. At first, I couldn't believe my eyes.

30 followers, and 27 favorites.

That's the most follows and favs that I've gotten on any story of mine, ever. Thank you so much.

Also hehe may I point out that it's my birthday happy birthday to me

With that, enjoy the chapter!

It was lucky a Jotun's body had such an accelerated healing rate. If Loki had had to stay in the Spiderling's apartment for too long, he could risk exposure.

Keep moving. That's basically all he did, anymore.

Run from the Avengers, run from anywhere he could be discovered, run from the thugs who thought he still had princely riches to go with his princely demeanor, run from his problems, run from the thoughts in the back of his head…

It never stopped. He could never rest.

Although… Peter, the child, he hadn't reported Loki. As far as he knew, he still hadn't. He had let him stay, and more than that, he had saved his life.

That was a thought. An Avenger had saved his life.

Perhaps he ought to repay the debt, somehow.

No, that was ridiculous. To return in any way was to walk straight into the lion's den.

Still, it had been a very long time since anyone had treated the Trickster with such kindness. It wasn't something to be taken for granted in the least. The way Peter had smiled at him, and hadn't kicked him out, even fed him from his own pantry… that was valuable. Loki couldn't remember the last time he'd been able to have a full meal.

So, as he stood under the window of Peter's room, a full week after he'd fled the house while Peter was in his schooling, his stomach hollow, and his feet tired from walking all day, he decided it may or may not be worth it.

Quickly, silently, he climbed atop the dumpster, gripped the windowsill as tightly as he could, and pulled himself up onto the ledge. A quick spell to faze through glass, and he was inside. Peter was busy at his desk, his brow furrowed in concentration. He didn't even see Loki approach.

Maybe he ought to leave, before it was too late.

"Hello." He found himself saying in a soft voice, instead.

Peter yelped, and leapt away, plastering himself five feet up the wall, as his eyes darted around to find the threat.

The sight of the spooked teenager cowering in the corner of the ceiling was admittedly hilarious, and Loki dissolved in laughter.

"Oh, it's just you." Peter climbed down the wall, his face a lovely shade of pink. "I didn't think I'd be seeing you, again."

"The feeling is mutual." Loki promised, wiping his eyes. "But I owe you a debt."

"What's the debt?" Peter looked a little interested, now.

Loki cleared his throat, and glanced down at the floor, all amusement evaporated in a moment. "You… you saved my life, a week past. And you didn't report me."

The spiderling's eyes lit up in excitement. "Wait, does that mean you're my humble servant for the rest of your life, since I saved you?"

"Uh… no." Loki frowned, more than a little confused. "Why would I…?"

He only shrugged. "I don't know; I guess it's just a fanfiction trope."

"I see." Loki did not see. "I… I wanted to know why." At the boy's blank stare, he decided to continue. "Why you didn't arrest me, I mean. You're an Avenger. You're supposed to rid the world of evil."

"That's just it." Peter shrugged one shoulder. "You don't seem all that evil, to me. We're supposed to be stopping evil, not potential allies."

"What makes me an ally?" He asked. "I nearly levelled New York!"

"What, five years ago? I was a brat five years ago, too. Plus, you said you were helping us fight, the other night."

Loki slowly nodded. "Then you're saying you helped me because… you think there's good in me?"

Peter nodded eagerly. "I think if you're helping us, you know it, too. Right?"

Loki wasn't sure how he was supposed to respond to that. It was the truth, after all. Deep inside, he did entertain the notion that he could still be a hero, regardless of the wrongs he'd done. Or, at the very least, he might not be a bad person.

"Indeed." He knew it didn't work like that, though. No amount of good deeds he did would ever undo all the bad. Perhaps he should change the topic, so he didn't begin a pity party. "What are you writing?"

"Homework." Peter's face fell as he looked over his shoulder at the offending papers. "Creative writing, too. My worst subject."

The Trickster wasn't quite sure what homework was, but it sounded awful. "Perhaps I can assist you?"

Peter seemed thrilled at this prospect, and the two of them bent over the papers, and were hard at work until an ungodly hour in the morning.

The very next morning, Aunt May came up to Peter's room, a little surprised he wasn't already awake for school. He'd probably missed his alarm, or something. Imagine her horror, when she found Peter was not alone, in his room.

Peter was asleep in his bed, completely at ease, but he was curled up in Peter's spare comforter, in the corner, his peaceful face looking deceptively innocent, with his dark curls falling in front of his face.

It was none other than the god of Mischief, himself, looking for all the world as if he was having an innocent sleepover with her nephew.

The best course of action, she decided, was to scream.

TheOnlyHuman.