Loki had, quite literally, fucked me into a stupor. I didn't leave his room for the rest of the day, and he only left to pick up the delivery order I put through on my phone. As soon as he walked in with the bag of Chinese food he glared at me.
"Why are you clothed?" he asked. I looked down at the dress shirt I'd stolen from his closet and then back up at him.
"Because we're eating," I blinked.
He pursed his lips with displeasure but handed me the bag and settled into the bed next to me. "I will never understand your obsession with eating in the bed we sleep in."
"It's cozy," I insisted as I removed containers of food. "Pick something to put on the TV."
Loki hummed but picked up the remote for the television I'd made him put on a stand near the foot of his oversized bed. He pretended to hate television, but I'd caught him pretending a little too hard to be reading while I was watching something he found interesting.
"What are these?" he asked suspiciously when I handed him the paper packet of chopsticks. I slid mine out of the paper and demonstrated snapping them apart.
"You eat with them."
Loki followed my example, huffing when his break wasn't as clean as mine. "How exactly does one eat with these?"
I gestured to the packages. I'd gone a little overboard when I realized Loki had never tried Chinese food and ordered a bunch of my favorites. "Pick something you want to try."
"Choose for me, my love," he said, sounding exasperated but smiling fondly at me. I rolled my eyes and opened the package of dumplings, letting the steam escape from it before settling my chopsticks in my fingers.
"Okay, so you hold them like this, and then you just push down on this, and hold it like this… and then you grab the food and viola!" I grabbed the dumpling easily and took a bit out of it with a grin. Loki was blinking at me, obviously confused.
"Midgardians are far more creative than I believed, it seems," he muttered as he tried to replicate my finger positions. I bit my lips to keep the smile off my face while I watched, taking nibbles off my dumpling as I did. His first few attempts he couldn't even grip the dumpling; when he finally got ahold of it, it fell from his chopsticks just seconds after he lifted it from the container. "This is impossible," he insisted after a moment, tossing the chopsticks into the container with frustration.
I stifled my giggle at his tantrum. "Sometimes it is so obvious you grew up rich," I snorted. "Oh, my prince, do you require my assistance? Shall I feed you, my lord?" I teased mockingly, a laugh catching in my throat when I noticed the look he was shooting me.
Oh. Oh. Prince Loki of Asgard liked being reminded of his title. That should be filed away for future reference…
"Show me again," he demanded, pointing to my now empty chopsticks. I raised my eyebrow at him.
"Don't be a child, Loki. Use your manners."
He narrowed his brow at me, but his voice was silky smooth and captivating as he spoke, living up to his nickname. "Show me again, please, darling."
I handed him a packet with an eggroll in it first. "That's finger food. You eat that while I show you," I instructed, opening the other containers to find what I was looking for. "Okay, so, for future reference, this shit isn't, like, real Chinese food. It's American Chinese food. But I ran a mission in Beijing a few years ago and—"
"Love, I have absolutely no idea what you speak of."
"Oh. Right. Uh, China. It's a country on the other side of the planet. Sketchy government, weird obsession with some dark stuff in their more underground operations. I used to have to—" I saw Loki's lost face as I spoke and stopped short, snorting a little. "We'll look at a globe tomorrow, babe. The point is, this isn't the real deal, it's a result of immigration, but it's still delicious." He took a cautious bite from the egg roll, lighting up when he chewed.
"We have something like this in Asgard," he explained after swallowing. "My mother and I used to make them together when I was being punished. She thought cutting all the vegetables would be good for me."
I grinned. Loki rarely spoke of his mother, though I knew she was very important to him. It hurt a little that I would never get a chance to meet her, the woman who, according to Thor, had kept Loki some semblance of sane during his imprisonment under his father. I owed her a debt of gratitude. "Was it?" I asked as he took another bite. I grabbed a piece of orange chicken while he finished chewing.
"It certainly helped hone my skills."
I snorted. "Somehow I don't think that was her intention."
When Loki finished the egg roll, I was munching on a piece of broccoli. He picked his chopsticks up again, fumbling them between his long fingers as he tried to copy my grip. "It's nice to see something those fingers aren't good at," I murmured slyly as he struggled.
"You are lucky that I adore you, pet," he growled, leaning into me. "Not many can speak to me in such a way."
I only grinned and leaned in as well, pecking his lips lightly. "Lucky indeed."
After a few more failed attempts the god sitting next to me gave up. "This is impossible, and you are a witch," Loki finally said, tossing his chopsticks into the container again.
"You're the witch."
He sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I have told you, my dove, I am—"
"A god who knows magic. Whatever." I bounded out of the bed and yanked open the door. "Thor!" I yelled through the floor.
"What?" came a faint response.
"Come here!"
"Stop yelling!" added in Tony's yell from somewhere in the compound. I rolled my eyes and waited for Thor to arrive in the room.
"Áine, your clothes," Loki hissed from the bed, standing quickly to find something to cover me. I rolled my eyes and batted him away.
"I have a shirt on and it covers my panties. Chill your grill, my dude."
Thor came bounding in with a wide smile. "What is it, little one?" he asked as I climbed back onto the bed.
"Show Loki how to use chopsticks," I said, offering him my set. He grinned and climbed onto the bed as well.
"Quite a few centuries have passed since I last shared a bed with my brother," Loki said dryly as Thor easily held the chopsticks in his large hand and reached down to pluck some lo mein out of a container.
I blinked. "Wait. How old are you?"
Loki looked at me with an eyebrow raised after glaring at Thor, who was now helping himself to our dinner. "One thousand and forty seven, why?"
I choked on the lo mein I'd grabbed with Loki's chopsticks so Thor couldn't eat it all, Loki patting me on the back in concern. "Holy fucking shit," I finally coughed, looking at him with wide eyes. "I knew you were old, but it never occurred to me that… Damn, you're ancient!"
"Thor is a year older!" Loki insisted haughtily, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Alright, I'm just not gonna think about that right now," I said with my hand raised, trying to remember what was even happening on Earth a millennia earlier. "Back to chopsticks."
After a few more minutes of watching him suffer I handed Loki a plastic fork. He glared at the chopsticks as he handed them to me, finally trying the rest of the food. He kicked Thor out a while later when they were bickering over the last eggroll.
"You bring out a strange side of me," Loki murmured against my temple when we'd settled in. We were laying on the bed with me between his legs, my back against his chest, watching Animal Planet in an attempt to introduce him to Earth geography. The lights were already shut off, and sleep seemed to be trying to claim me already.
"What do you mean?" I asked curiously.
He kissed my head gently before replying. "Before meeting you, I never would have imagined sitting on my bed with my brother and my lover, eating dinner and telling stories of our past."
"That's because you needed to lighten up," I said with a yawn. Loki chuckled into my curls.
"Perhaps I did. You should rest."
"Mhmm," I hummed as my eyes closed. Loki's gentle hand stroking my hair was the only thing I needed to lull me gently to sleep.
[][][][][][][]
My entire body ached when I woke up. Loki must have been rougher than I thought the day before. My head was pounding as I swung my legs off the bed.
When my bare feet touched cold concrete instead of the soft fur rug beneath Loki's bed, my head shot up, my eyes widening as I took in my surroundings.
No.
Please, please no.
I threw my hands over my mouth to hold back the panicked sob that wanted to break free. I shouldn't call attention to myself yet. Focus, Áine. You're trained for this. When I tried to stand, the pain in my ribs knocked me to my knees with my arm going around myself instinctively. My teeth gritted against the urge to moan—they were most definitely broken, at least three of them.
It was exactly as I remembered. The cell had a sort of omnipresent dampness to it. The only reprieve from concrete walls, floors, and ceiling was the metal-framed cot and scratchy blanket and the two parallel walls made of thick iron bars. I rubbed my hands over my face trying to remember… Right. It was a row of cells in a line, separated from each other by cinder block walls but open on the other two sides to prevent any cell from being on an outside wall. One of the lights somewhere was making an electric buzzing sound, only adding to the pressure from my headache.
How did I get here? How long had it been?! I pulled the rough brown jumpsuit away from my body to see Loki's marks, see how the bruises had faded and hopefully, maybe start piecing together the events leading to waking up in this fucking cell again, and stared in horror at my skin beneath the jumpsuit. Bruises everywhere, littering my chest, covering my entire stomach… but not one from Loki. None of his remained.
My stomach flipped when an echoing set of footsteps rang through the halls. The only other sound was a low moaning coming from somewhere down the hall—one of the other prisoners, I assumed.
I couldn't help but whimper a sob when Santos Barone came into view. Bruce had been right—he was heading into a prison network in Ukraine. This prison network. To come back for me.
Loki. Loki, please, help me.
He said nothing as he unlocked the cell. If I was at full strength I could have rushed him then, caught him low near the knees and taken off, but with three broken ribs and whatever was wrong with my left knee, I couldn't even stand—which I tried to scream at him as he dragged me by my matted hair down the hall, my body grinding against the rough floors, friction burns and small scrapes tearing up my legs where exposed. "Please stop," I begged through the fiery pain, trying to keep the sobs from completely overtaking me. "Please. Just kill me. Please." I meant it. Everything hurt, and yet the foremost thought on my brain was what was going to come after him dragging me down the stairs, into the ancient dungeon below the prison level with His Cell. The one with the stained mattress. It was still there, mocking me, rushing up to meet me as I was shoved onto it.
No. Please.
Loki. Thor. Anyone, please, please help me! Loki!
My eyes were closed against the pain radiating through my body. The man yanked my hands up in a familiar motion, chuckling wickedly when I finally couldn't take it anymore and let the sobs come. He tightened the shackles roughly around my wrists. Gods, please let me black out. Please. I can't do this again.
"You knew I would come back for you, mound dweller."
Wanda. Loki. Help me, please!
They weren't coming. No one was coming. He made good on his promise—he came back, and this time he wasn't going to let me go. I tried to focus on the pain. Remembering the pain would be better than the other thing, but when his rough hands tore open my jumpsuit and grabbed my breasts forcefully, I couldn't control myself anymore. I needed out, but I was trapped with this man who had broken me once already and now was going to finish me off. It was too much. The pain was radiating all through my body, focusing in on the places his hands were touching me, and the only thing I could do was let down my final defenses and sob out a guttural scream.
"Áine! Wake up, darling, wake up!"
Loki. Loki? Where was he?
"Please, my sweet girl, my perfect girl, come back to me, please."
Loki.
With the last of my strength, I wrenched open my eyes. Loki. It wasn't those grey eyes over me, it was my favorite green ones, brimming with unshed tears. I only looked at them for a moment before launching myself up and into his arms, trying like hell to focus on the feel of his skin on my and his gentle hands holding me to him. The physical pain was beginning to fade away as his soft whispers started to make sense and the ache in my brain subsided.
"Help me," I finally managed to whimper. Loki could make it go away; he could make it okay. Loki could keep me safe from him.
"I'm here, my love. Follow my voice. Come back to me."
The shocking pain of the broken ribs was gone, but a new pain was in my chest, knocking the air out of my lungs as it spread. "Please," I sobbed, trying to keep my grip on his skin and reality. Was it reality? I needed something, needed—needed him to put me under again, to give me a reprieve, to let me breathe, and I was being pulled by the hair again, and held in Loki's arms… "Please, please, just kill me."
Saying those words out loud made a tight knot in my chest loosen and suddenly I could breathe again, trying to suck in more air than my lungs could handle, almost painful in the intensity. Once the pain began fading in my chest, my other senses came back. There was a warm glow behind my closed eyelids, a firm body wrapped around mine, something soft and silky under me… There was no scent of must and mold in the air, no chill of persistent wetness. My lids fluttered open and I saw the black headboard, the sleek side tables, the large landscape painting of Asgard hanging on the wall, illuminated in the soft glow of the bedside lamp.
"Loki." His name was a prayer of relief on my breath and he pulled back slowly and carefully. He gazed at me deeply, bringing his forehead to mine and closing his eyes, keeping a firm hand on the back of my neck.
"Áine. Tell me you've returned to me, sweet girl."
I sniffed and nodded. "I'm sorry," I whispered, just barely able to choke it out before I broke down in a mess of sobs.
I didn't deserve this.
I didn't deserve to be there.
I didn't deserve the man holding me in his bed.
I didn't deserve the people sleeping in the other rooms, the ones who I'd grown to love.
I didn't deserve any of it.
But I was also hopelessly selfish. I wanted it so badly, wanted him and my new family. I couldn't let that go. Not yet.
"Are you back with me? May I see your eyes, love?"
It was a struggle, but eventually I was calm enough to look at him and actually see him. My hands went to his face unintentionally and stroked his cheeks where shimmering trails from tears lingered. "Why are you crying?"
"You must never, ever say that again, Áine," Loki said harshly, ignoring my question and pulling me into a hug again.
"Say what? You were crying. I could see—"
"'Please kill me'," he quoted in a deadly hush. "Never say that. I am here. You are safe. Never, ever say that."
"I should have gone back to my room," I choked out, pulling out of his grasp and looking down at my hands. "I'm so sorry."
His hands took mine, his long fingers fully encasing each of my much smaller hands. "What is this you speak of? Why would you leave my bed?"
My lip had gone between my teeth without my realizing it and I released it with a pop. "I can usually tell when it's gonna happen." Real life was staring to come back into full focus, my thoughts jumbled. "I make sure to sleep in my room so I won't bother you."
"You are never a bother," Loki insisted in a horrified whisper. "How frequently do these dreams come, my love? Why did you keep such a thing from me?"
I could see him completely when my eyes met his again. Loki's face faded from a dreamlike blur into sharp technicolor. Exhaustion was seeping in, and I leaned forward to press my forehead against his chest, his hands rubbing gently on my back immediately. "I dunno. They go in and out. It's just not your problem. I'm really sorry for waking you." With the return of reality, the guilt of disturbing the beautiful god in the bed with me, of being the cause of such anguish on his face, was crashing down and crushing me.
"No more of this," Loki said hoarsely. "Áine, look at me."
He was just as beautiful as ever. His raven hair was tousled from sleep and his anxious habit of running his hand through it. The low light cast the planes of his face into sharp relief with his eyes glimmering out from the shadows like emeralds illuminated by his own seiðr. I expected a fresh wave of guilt to engulf me when I looked at him so intently, but instead his soft gaze soothed me, calming the rapid pace of my heart and my thoughts.
"You are mine now," the god croaked, taking my face in his hands. My breath caught as I absorbed his desperate insistence. "For the rest of time, your problems are mine. Any threat to you is a threat to me. My love, never hide from me, not even to spare me."
Pressure built behind my eyes again, but tears wouldn't come. I sniffed and started squirming away. "I think I'm dehydrated," I mumbled, refusing to meet his gaze. After a moment he huffed and released me from his arms.
"Stay," he hissed when I made to get up, narrowing his brow at me. I shirked away from the edge of the bed and pulled the bedcover up higher over my naked body.
He wasn't mad at me. He wasn't mad at me. I repeated it in my head, even though I knew it was only half true—he was pissed, but not because I'd had the dream. More because of the other stuff. The light of the en-suite flicked on and the hiss of the faucet vibrated out softly until, just as quickly, the light was cut and Loki was walking back to the bed. His expression was unreadable as he handed me the glass carefully, leaving his hand hovering as I took a sip. The cool water emphasized a burn in my throat that I didn't know was there and I sucked the rest of it down greedily.
"Do you need more?" Loki asked lowly. I shook my head and he placed the glass on his bedside table before returning to his place next to me in bed. "You will be moving in with me in the morning."
I turned in his arms to see his face and blinked. "When did I agree to that?"
"This is not a request, pet," he growled with narrowed eyes. "I will not allow you to use your quarters as an excuse to hide your pain from me."
Oh hell no. "I'm not one of your subjects, my lord," I spat back, pulling away from him. "You don't control me."
"I do when you insist on working against your best interest."
"No," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. "Not even then."
"Áine." Oh no. I knew that tone. No one—literally, no one—could resist that tone. "My love, you have no reason to be apart from me now that I know the truth. Do you think I could bear standing idly by while you suffer? Let me take care of you." His eyes flashed with otherworldly fire as he spoke.
I groaned and closed my eyes. "Stop that," I said weakly, trying to resist the allure of his silvertongue. But he was right. He was so protective—now that I'd spilled the beans and he'd witnessed a nightmare, he was liable to sleep outside my door to be nearby if something were to happen. And what was wrong with him helping me, anyway? He cared about me. If it were him, I would do the same. "Fine," I sighed.
Loki celebrated his success by nudging us both down and pulling my body against his as we snuggled under the sheets. He raised his hands to turn out the lamps, but I grabbed his wrists and grimaced. "Would it be okay if we left them on for a bit?"
His lips brushed against my forehead and he returned the hand to cupping my waist. "Of course." He paused and fingered a stray curl. "Would you like to talk about it?"
"No." I didn't have to think about my answer. It was pointless. It wouldn't change anything to talk about it, but it might freak Loki out even more, and there was no need for that.
There was a long pause and then a sigh. "Sleep now," he conceded. I nodded against him, the exhaustion creeping in quickly, and let the comfort of his touch lull me to sleep.
[][][][][][][][][][]
She was infuriating.
He loved her with all his heart, of course, and was already dreading the day in his very near future when he would have to say goodbye due to her short human life, but they'd been together only a few weeks and she regularly drove him to the brink of insanity.
And yet, as he gazed at her sleeping form in his bed, he couldn't help but think he was in the presence of an angel, of some divinity that surpassed even his own. Her voluptuous naked body was half covered by his bedcoverings, leaving the skin of her back mostly exposed save the length concealed by her mess of golden curls. The rays of morning sunshine peeking through the window cast part of her body into a radiant brilliance that only confirmed his suspicions that she was divine.
It was torture to tear himself away from her, but he wanted to make her breakfast and coffee before she awoke. He knew she was supposed to train today, but after the rough night she'd had, she would need all the extra energy she could get.
He chose an outfit out of the closet with little thought and smiled a little when he noticed what he'd grabbed. He's been wearing more and more Midgardian clothes as Áine impacted his wardrobe. The shirt he'd picked out was a well-tailored, forest green dress shirt that she'd bought him on a venture into the city with the Witch and the Widow. When she'd presented it to him with a sly comment about adding color to his life, he'd shot something back about blonde curls and blue eyes that led to… well, a very pleasant memory. One he wouldn't mind repeating someday.
When he was sure she was still soundly asleep, he slipped out of the room and headed downstairs to the kitchen. It was empty. Loki was usually the first awake—a remnant of his time as a true representative of Asgard. He doubted Odin would ever trust him to carry out business again.
The smell of coffee lured out Natasha, who seemed to have her own superpower of arriving whenever someone began cooking. "Mornin'," she yawned, laying her head in her arms on the island when she slid into a barstool. Loki smirked at her and grabbed out a larger pan.
"Good morning, Natasha. Can I offer you breakfast?"
"Yes, please," she murmured, turning her head to the other side to give Loki a grin. "Bringing Áine breakfast in bed again?"
Loki hummed, trying to seem nonchalant while hiding how pleased he was. Before Áine, not a single member of the team would have taken note of him cooking. Hel, before Áine he didn't think he'd ever cooked in the compound kitchen. The rest of the team was cordial with him at best, cold from suspicion at worst, until the moment the tiny ball of curly-haired sunshine reached up and pulled his face down to kiss him. She'd admitted to him later that she'd overheard him speaking with Thor before and knew of his feelings, but he was too thrilled at the feeling of holding her in his arms to have a moment to care.
"Loki?" came a small voice. The god looked up in surprise to find Wanda entering the kitchen with her arms wrapped around herself, looking just on the edge of miserable. His brow furrowed.
"Are you alright?" he asked her quietly as she approached. She looked up and gave him a weak smile and a nod.
"Did, um… Did Áine have a nightmare last night?"
He pursed his lips. The rooms were quite nearly soundproof; even with the volume of her cries, it was extremely unlikely they would have carried down the hall to the Witch's room. "Yes," he confirmed after a moment. "How did you know?" He put his hand on her shoulder gently and led her to the stool next to Natasha, who was sitting up at full attention now.
"I could hear her," Wanda whispered, squinting her eyes closed. "She was calling out for help."
"How could you hear that?" Loki asked. He cocked his head at her as he tried to figure out what was happening. Perhaps the Witch was developing a new power—superhuman hearing would be particularly useful for recon missions.
Wanda tapped two fingers on the middle of her forehead. "Whatever she was feeling, it was so strong that I could hear her crying out for us."
"Us?" Loki asked in whispered despair, closing his eyes against the new wave of pain. He should have woken earlier, should have kept her from getting to the point of screaming so loudly he feared she would hurt herself. She was crying out for him with such horror that the Witch down the hall picked up on it, and he'd simply sat there in shock as he took in the thrashing of her limbs and contortion of her face. She'd been begging for him and he hadn't even noticed.
"You guys have to stop beating yourselves up over this," Natasha said, the edge of sleep fading from her voice. "It's not productive. Honestly, the fact that she feels safe enough with you to be asking for help, even in her dreams, is a good sign."
Loki closed his eyes and tilted his head to the ceiling before returning to the bowl of eggs he'd been whisking. "May I make you some breakfast, Wanda?" he asked quietly, still keeping an eye on the Witch, who was rubbing her temples with Natasha patting her shoulder comfortingly.
"If it's not too much trouble."
After plating up the eggs and toast for the two women Loki quickly washed the pan and bowl. He kept an eye on Wanda out of the corner of his eye, ensuring that she took a bite before plating up the food for himself and Áine and heading back up the stairs.
