Hey, Lunchies! I know this is probably really disappointing to y'all, but I've run out of motivation for this story, too. This chapter, here, is going to be the last. Thank you all so much for your support, and enjoy the last chapter!
"May I promise! He won't hurt anyone! I swear on my life!"
"Have you met him?!" May Parker was not the kind of person to take the appearance of a former supervillain in her apartment lightly, and was one push of a button away from calling the police. Or the Avengers. Or someone. "He's killed hundreds of people. He could've slit your throat in your sleep!"
"But he didn't!" Peter's best puppy eyes were trained on his aunt's face. "Have you met him? He's really nice! Right, Mr. Loki?"
Loki sat blearily on the end of Peter's bed, his hair mussed from the pillows and sleep. Deep shadows under his eyes, his look was a cross between far-too-fuzzy-for-his-own-good, and about-to-fall-over-dead-from-exhaustion. In short, he looked as if he was physically incapable of hurting a fly. "I could go…" He offered.
"No!" Both Parkers corrected in chorus.
"I need you to be here when the authorities show up." Aunt May explained herself.
"Which authorities, exactly?" Loki hummed, half to himself, and not really expecting an answer.
Judging from the crease that grew between May's eyebrows, though, it was a question she had yet to completely think through, herself. Peter's mind was running around much the same topic, as well.
If she were to call the police, there would be little they could do to contain Loki, and he'd probably either escape, or prove her theory of general violence and awfulness correct. If she called the Avengers, they'd capture him, lock him in Shield's darkest dungeon, and he'd rot there for the rest of his days. Therefore, calling anyone in the first place seemed rather counterproductive, to say the least.
For all they knew, Loki had already teleported away, leaving a decoy illusion to distract them while he beat a hasty retreat.
"Perhaps it would simplify things if I turned myself in?" Loki went on to suggest. "Always an option."
"Always an option?!" Peter echoed. "Mr. Loki, they'll kill you!"
Loki blinked, his expression extremely neutral. "And? I'll be out of your hair."
"But I like you in my hair!" Peter insisted. Now seemed a good time to give an ex-supervillain a hug, so Peter did. Loki gave him a very awkward pat on the back before tactfully detaching himself from his current fanboy.
"That's... er... very kind of you." He admitted. "But truly. Your aunt is right."
Aunt May seemed to be nearly as surprised at the notion of Loki agreeing with her as Peter was. "I'm what?"
"Right." Loki repeated. "As in, correct. You do say that on Midgard, yes?"
"Yes." Peter chipped in. "What do you mean, she's right though? Can we get an explanation?"
The demigod seemed almost to be preening under all the attention, but Peter could tell he understood the weight of the situation. He could see how it clouded his eyes, held his posture as tense as a bowstring, his fingers anxiously lacing around each other. Perhaps it would have been harder to spot to someone who hadn't taken the time to actually hang out with Loki, but despite his chipper, almost flippant attitude about the whole thing, he really was eaten up with guilt, inside.
"I mean I've done quite a lot of bad things." He explained, his voice soft, almost sorrowful. "And I've been running long enough. I think it's time I faced the consequences of my own actions."
"Even if they aren't fair?!" Peter protested. May's face, on the other hand, had softened into something akin to a smile.
"That's more mature than I would've expected, coming from you."
Loki hummed in agreement, but didn't speak.
"See, I just want to keep my nephew safe, right?" She went on. "And, no offense, I don't think you're safe."
"Oh, neither do I." Loki agreed, flashing a cheerful grin. "Go on."
"I don't know that there's anything more to say." May shrugged. "You know what I'd like you to do, now."
"Yes." Loki's voice was small, nearly vulnerable. He suddenly looked rather like an afraid six-year old. "May I..." He ventured, glancing guiltily up at May, as if she could stop him, whatever he requested from her. "May I hug your nephew goodbye?"
After a moment's hesitation, May gave an assenting nod. Loki turned to Peter with a hopeful, shy smile, and after a second, squished his newest friend in a warm hug.
"Thank you." He whispered. "For believing in me, no matter how ill-founded the belief."
"No problem." Peter said, squeezing back as if Loki was going to war. In a way, he was. It was terrifying, realizing that the young man he'd gotten to know the past two days was simply going to be stepping out of his life as abruptly as he'd dropped in.
Without a reply, Loki teleported out of the apartment. May said something about how "Loki was the god of lies. We probably shouldn't have trusted him to turn himself in." But Peter wasn't really listening. Besides, he had a feeling Loki would be okay.
That very evening, the news covered Loki's surprisingly peaceful surrender, tearful reunion (on Thor's part) with his brother, and impending trial details.
Peter couldn't watch, after that.
He found himself laying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, pondering to himself. What did it truly mean, to be a hero? Mr. Stark often said a hero was someone who did the right thing, despite all odds.
If what Loki had said was true, then he'd battled against the aliens without any real reason, save that it was the right thing to do. He'd probably saved hundreds, if not thousands of lives, that day.
If the fear in his green eyes wasn't fabricated, then turning himself in was because it was the right thing, regardless of how terribly that could potentially go for him.
If that was what made a hero, Loki was every bit as much a hero as Peter was, himself.
Thus it is Told.