A/N: Eek! Halloween is next week! Where has 2020 gone? ...You know what, don't answer that, 2020 sucked. Today was the day of my town's annual "Biz Boo," which is basically a day for early trick-or-treating at local businesses, as well as the day of an orchestra concert for me, so I've been busy, but I wanted to post this anyway. You're welcome. This is part 1 of the Halloween-themed chapters, so...yeah. I feel so bad for the dream sequence I put Loki through that starts this chapter...oh, and don't worry, we'll find out who the she-wolf is in the next few chapters. Also: Long chapter this time, yay!
Disclaimer: Do I even have to put this anymore? Marvel/Disney's. Not mine.
6. Give Me A Reason To Make You Mine
Lightning, colored green. Electricity sparkling the same color as his eyes as it danced visibly along telephone pole wires and ran down the sides of mountains to the lonely plains beneath. An office building, out of place, its windows lit up green by the brilliance of the lightning. A maelstrom, a hurricane, a black hole, all tinged green. Shimmering green fog settling over everything, blinding, choking, dragging down. Smoke and mirrors, forming crowns of ash and mist. Whispered words - "let him be king," "a king with no crown," "I want to be king," "some princes don't become kings." All different voices, all fading into the swirling storm of his surroundings, all quiet and painful until the storm stilled and the world was silent.
Green-and-gold armor, holding his heart captive within its confines. Gold gauntlets to hide his scars. A tunic over the armor, burying the things that made him him. Gold armor, everywhere, protecting him, shielding him from further harm. The chains that bound his hands in front of him; the invisible bonds that held him in all his green-gold glory back from the full capacity of everything he could be. Fragments of speech, his own voice echoing back to him: "kneel before me," "Anger makes you stupid. Stupid gets you killed," "He said, 'Over my dead body'. 'Okay then'," "oh, dear. is she dead?", "we are not doing 'Get Help'," "Ugh, Midgardians," "my touch is lethal/my touch is power." Whispers of his desperation, his pain, his power, all lost in the fog, drowning in the dark green waves of the ocean that was his life, silent screams as the abyss grew darker around him.
A song, playing through his head as the darkness closed in, lit up by the glow of his magic, shining, shimmering, shifting green, shadows and light mixing to create the beauty of the flame, like passion, like ambition, like the taste of sweet wine for those of great ambition as he was.
"Empty spaces
What are we living for?
Abandoned places
I guess we know the score...!
On and on
Does anybody know what we are looking for?
Another hero
Another mindless crime
Behind the curtain,
In the pantomime...!
Hold the line...!
Does anybody want to take it anymore...?"
His helmet, his horns, his wounded pride. "i wasn't born to be soft and quiet. i was born to make the world shatter and shake at my fingertips." The strength, the resilience that those horns symbolized, the knowledge that no matter what he would never back down. "Turn the pain into power." "What I create is chaos." The Scepter, the Stone, the Sorrow, and yet still the horns, that spoke of desperation and determination. "And oh, my tongue is a weapon." "As my story came to a close I realized I was the villain all along." And briefly, Thor's helmet, with its wings that symbolized hope and all Thor's faith. "A villain is just a victim whose story hasn't been told." All his might, all his power, and through it all his helmet, the horns that made him both angel and demon, darkness and yes, maybe even a little bit of light.
"The show must go on!
The show must go on!
Yeah...
Inside my heart is breaking,
My makeup may be flaking, but my smile...
Still stays on..."
Trickster. The nickname for him. God of Mischief. Trickster. Liesmith. All of these things and more. So what if he liked tricks? People were constantly avoiding him, shutting him out, all because he had a sense of humor. It may have been dark and his evil laugh may have been excellent, but it was still a sense of humor, and he had been light quite a bit in his childhood, in his innocence. Neon lights formed the word 'LAUGHTER' in bright green letters, hard on his eyes and then gone without a trace, the afterimage bruned into his eyes the only indication it was ever there at all. His own laugh, his gentle one, echoed through his head, the "ehehehehe" that had endeared him to many as a child and driven away many as an adult.
A wristband, white with black words, the letters spelling out his title - "God of Mischief." As well as the words he had never needed to see more than he did now - "Loki's heart" - on the outside of the open bracelet. A sly grin, his green eyes shining even as he became more wolf than man. A howl into the night. Murmuring voices, his voice, Thor's voice, Odin's, Frigga's, Fandral's, Sif's, Volstagg's, Hogun's, Sigyn's, all murmuring a single phrase that seemed to follow him wherever he went: "Here comes trouble." Green cape melting into icy fur; cold green waves rushing in, drowning every plea for help, everything but the long, piercing howl of the wolf lying in silent slumber within him.
"Whatever happens
I leave it all to chance
Another heartache
Another failed romance...!
On and on
Does anybody know what we are living for?
I guess I'm learning (learning)
I must be warmer now
I'll soon be turning (turning)
'Round the corner, now
Outside the dawn is brekaing,
But inside in the dark I'm aching to be free...!"
Dark green sheets. A pale hand clutching at them, as Thor - he somehow knew it was Thor - kissed him, scorching againt his cool skin. Head tilted to the side; Thor brushing his hair away; kisses against his throat. Warm hands, Thor's hands, gently exploring his torso; kisses on his back, his throat, everywhere; green eyes closed, soft gasps and murmurs leaving his lips; raven-black hair sticking to his skin, the sensation new and frightening and fascinating. Whispers of buried desire, words forever lost in the haze of shimmering green fire that rose up around them, words whispered in Thor's ear, against his own skin, words of wonder and love and chaos. "Dear brother;" "i assure you, brother, the sun will shine on us again;" "But you're dying To be loved;" "crooked grins, sly hands, and one dangerous voice;" "you were dead. yet, here you are."
His stability, his desire, his passion, undefined and in question, even as his head tilted back for Thor to kiss him again, and again, the heat enough to melt the sun and yet still not enough to warm his cool skin. He was toxic, yet somehow also the sweetest thing in the room. A goblet flashed across his vision, filled with some green, poisonous substance; he gasped, eyes flying open, only to flutter closed again as Thor's lips kept moving, imposing some sense of distorted serenity on him. A bottle, corked, labeled SARCASTIC VENOM, the green liquid inside drained rather low. A rain-splattered window, tinged green due to the magical flame roaring in its silence behind it. "I am not human, I am venomous." Whispered warnings that Thor disregarded, that he could barely say through his fragile state of mind. "I am poison," warned again, again disregarded.
Sanity thrown away; a whispered question in Thor's ear - "Are you insane like me?" - and Thor ripped away, and his screams, screams that reached no one's ears, and the sound of his own frantic voice trying to reassure him, "It's all in your head" - and then back with Thor, shaking and fragile, beautiful and broken, shattered and saved. And their lips met, finally, as the fire raged higher and higher and covered them in all its brilliant green fury.
"The show must go on!
The show must go on!
Yeah, yeah...!
Inside my heart is breaking,
My makeup may be flaking, but my smile...
Still stays on..."
Cold as ice, soft as snow, unforgiving as a brutal Jotunheim storm. Heart made of glass, frosted over as the blood that ran through his veins. A hand, reaching out to touch a cold window, steadily turning blue as his true skin was revealed. Withdrawn, stared at, the blue tinge slowly fading away. "The ice does not forgive." A truth ringing through his head like a mantra. Odin's voice, thundering at him: "YOU WILL NEVER BE A GOD." Blue skin as a shaking hand reached for nothing, forever alone with no one to guide him home. Calling to Thor, voice lost in the void - "you were never enough!" No matter how desperately he wished Thor would be. Standing on Jotunheim, a blizzard at his back, screaming for no one, his silence the most painful thing of all. Blue creeping up his skin as he screamed to the worlds that listened with deaf ears. Looking down at himself, at the blue, at the symbol of what he was, and wondering as his voice whispered the same words through the storm: "Are monsters born or created?"
"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies!
Fairy tales of yesterday
Will grow but never die...!
I can fly...!
My friends..."
So much blood on his hands. Knives of truth and lies flung from his fingers, knives of pain and betrayal, of power and passion, of desperation and some sick, twisted pleasure. Daggers of crooked grins and insane plans, of wild thoughts and captured minds, of wounded pride and ruptured dignity. Daggers of love and war, of broken hearts and shattered souls, of peace and violence. Knives of flame and fate, of sorrow and joy, of injuries and justice. Broken expressions, shattered eyes, destroyed hearts and burned-out souls, snapped minds and decimated lungs, so utterly hollow that he wondered if there was anything left to pour into the knives that left his hands on a regular basis.
"The show must go on...!
The show must go on...!
I'll face it with a grin!
I'm never giving in!
On...with the show...!"
A snake, coiled on and through his hand. It hissed softly at him; he stroked its head with his free hand. Snakes had always fascinated him; this particular snake was no different, hissing and writhing over his hand. The snake on his hand raised its head; he followed its gaze to a gold serpent hung on a wall; a viper hissed into and out of the room, looking directly at him and baring its poisonous fangs before slithering away; a coiled serpent appeared in front of him, and he realized he was in the burning room. The fire had gone. The snakes writhed and hissed, a deadly green one looking directly at him, its gaze never wavering. He held eye contact, aware of the snake still coiling and uncoiling around his wrist. Four more appeared, slithering through the room, towards him. They all slithered towards him. He never moved, never wavered.
Until he felt Thor's breath on the back of his neck, and the snakes all hissed in unison, and he turned to face his brother only to discover he wasn't there at all.
"I'll top the bill!
I'll overkill!
I have to find the will to carry on...!
(With the show)
(On with the)
Show...!
The show must go on..."
"He's a liar." A neon green sign with the word 'belief', with only three letters lit up - "beLIEf." Electric green words, the same word, over and over: "lies lies lies lies lies." A defense, employed countless times on his parents as a child: "Ok, so I lied." The neon green words "good life" lit up with a single letter missing, so it read "GOOD LIE" instead. "LIES LIES LIES 24/7," the truth of his life. He never stopped lying, using it as a defense mechanism, lying, lying, lying, tricking, betraying, lying some more. Hiding behind his web of lies as if it could be a mask, a shield meant to deflect curiosity. A wall built to shield his heart from pain, and rebuilt over again when it failed.
Because it always failed.
Green eyes turned blue by the light, closed. The world spinning away, out of his control. Dancing, dreaming, drowning, dying, choking, burning, breathing, living. A haze of green, brilliant and shimmering and soft and muted and sparkling and electric and bright and burning and him. Armor falling, passions rising, fire burning, ice freezing, love lying, barely breathing, magic dancing, snakes hissing, lies scorching, knives stabbing. Shaking, freezing, burning, burning, burning...
His name, written in Old Norse letters. ᛚ-ᛟ-˂-ᛁ. L-O-K-I. Mischief. Trickery. Lies.
His poisonous, emerald green eyes flew open.
Loki woke with a start, swearing colorfully in both Russian and English. What the actual hell had that been?
He remembered clearly only bits and pieces, including the bit with Thor. Not a lot. He remembered snakes, and Thor, and a few whispered phrases. Not much else.
Why Thor? Loki thought to himself. Thor, of all people? He's my brother! Or...fake brother...? Gods, why does everything involving Thor have to be so confusing?
A knock came at his door; a moment later it swung open to reveal Natasha.
"Доброе утро, соня," she said. [Morning, sleepyhead.] "You planning on getting up today?"
Loki leaned back into the pillows, closing his eyes again and trying to clear his head. "Depends," he groaned. "Какой это день?" [What day is it?]
Natasha glared at him good-naturedly. "Это Хэллоуин, идиот!" she laughed. [It's Halloween, you idiot!]
"It is?" Loki was mildly surprised. "Я даже не осознавал, что это был октябрь." [I barely even realized it was October.]
Natasha laughed. "Конечно." [Of course.]
"Hey!" Loki protested. "It's not my fault!"
"Одевайся, Локи," Natasha said, shaking her head. [Oh, get dressed, Loki.] "Then meet the rest of us in the lounge."
Loki rolled his eyes, but smiled, and waved her away.
Once the door had shut behind her, Loki shook his head to clear it and reluctantly stood up. He headed to his closet and sighed. Halloween, Natasha had said. Loki grinned to himself and pulled the completely plain black suit he owned out of the closet. He pulled it on, then checked himself in the mirror; his hair was a mess, but that could be fixed. Other than that, he thought he looked great. He just hoped the others wouldn't object. After the confusing dream he'd just had, Loki didn't think he could handle the Avengers' negative reactions.
Though no one had really noticed what he was wearing before, so maybe he was just overreacting.
Loki brushed his hair out - gods, this was so much easier with magic - and then checked himself again, tugging futilely at the magic-dampening bracelet. Satisfied with his appearance (though still a little miffed at the absence of magic ability), Loki exited his room and headed for the lounge a few floors above.
On the way, he ended up walking beside none other than Tony Stark himself.
Great.
They didn't speak at first. Loki tried to ignore Stark, and Stark blatantly ignored Loki. Until Loki, before he could think better of it, spoke and broke the silence between them, which he regretted almost instantly as Stark looked sharply over at him.
"You have PTSD, don't you?"
Stark's expression made Loki silently curse himself. But then Stark surprised him by replying.
"What did you say?"
He didn't sound hostile. He didn't sound particularly welcoming, either, but he had responded, which surprised Loki more than the neutral tone. He was used to that tone by now, anyway, since pretty much everyone except Natasha used that tone with him, if they spoke to him at all. Loki had exchanged a few words with Rogers periodically for the last week or so, ever since their conversation in the hallway, and though they were nowhere near friends, at least Rogers was civil towards him. Most of the others wouldn't even look at him if they could help it. As for Thor...Loki remembered his dream and once again thought, Why Thor, of all people? He'd tried his best to avoid his brother, though he'd lately been finding it harder and harder to do. Thor seemed determined to be in the same room as Loki as much as possible.
Loki realized he still hadn't answered Stark and repeated his question. "I said you have PTSD, don't you? From - then."
Stark was silent for so long Loki was beginning to believe he wasn't getting an answer. But then Stark spoke.
"Yes. The..." He shuddered visibly. "Wormhole. Constant nightmares, panic attacks, flashbacks. It doesn't help that people keep talking about the battle. Asking me how I survived the wormhole. Add that on to what happened in Afghanistan, and then with Stane, and then Vanko and all those robots...aliens shouldn't have surprised me, really, but they sure as hell made my PTSD worse."
Loki took that in for a moment. So he'd had pre-existing PTSD, from gods-knew-what that had gone down with the places and people he'd mentioned. Loki hadn't known that.
"I'm sorry," Loki said, forcing the words out. He was actually sorry, but apologizing was still something very new to him. "I didn't know about the pre-existing PTSD. I'm sure that wouldn't have stopped me if I had known, but I am sorry for making it worse."
Stark glanced at him in surprise. "You're lying."
"No," Loki shook his head. "For once, I'm not. You probably don't believe me -" And here he smiled ruefully - "considering the stories Thor has probably told you all, and my own self-proclaimed reputation. But I am truly sorry for worsening your PTSD."
"I'm kind of surprised you even know what PTSD is," Stark admitted.
Loki sighed. "Fa- Odin had episodes of PTSD occasionally, when Thor and I were children. Mother was always there to calm him and to shield our eyes, but I saw anyway. It's...not fun, from what I saw and heard Odin experiencing," he explained.
Stark shook his head. "Before, it was mild, it was tolerable. Now...I wake up in the middle of the night screaming."
"I'm sorry," Loki repeated. "I know 'sorry' doesn't cut it, and can't fix any of it, but I do regret it."
"Which part?" Stark looked directly at him, stopping and forcing Loki to stop as well.
Loki looked him dead in the eye, green pair finding dark brown, and said, "All of it."
Stark must have realized he was telling the truth, because he visibly relaxed a little. "How'd you know I have PTSD, anyway?" he asked.
Loki studied him. Nothing in his face betrayed anything but a genuine curiosity. His hair was artfully messy, and Loki wondered who exactly he was trying to impress. Other than that, he was in casual clothes - a Black Sabbath T-shirt (Loki made a mental note to ask Natasha what the Helheim Black Sabbath was) with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and black jeans. He looked as if he'd just come from his workshop, which he very well might have.
"I can see it in your eyes," Loki decided, studying his face again. "There are shadows there, shadows that I remember seeing in Odin's eye when I was younger, and shadows that seem almost alive. Horrible memories will do that to a person. Also, just the sense about you. Even without my magic, I can still just...sense the difference. I can't explain it."
Stark nodded. "That sounds pretty accurate," he said. "It's not exactly easy to hide."
"On the contrary," Loki countered, so fierce that he startled Stark. "Most people wouldn't have noticed. I'm just good at reading people, always have been."
Stark smirked. "If you're so good at reading people, then why haven't you noticed the way Thor stares at you every time you two are in the same room?"
Stark walked away before Loki could respond. Loki cursed under his breath in Russian - "Блядь" [Fuck] - and stalked after him. This was starting to get annoying; Natasha had done the exact same thing. And Loki was in no mood to think about Thor right now, not after the dream he'd just had.
Loki reached the lounge to discover the rest of the Avengers in civilian clothes, as well. A casual day, then. Loki surveyed the room:
Steve Rogers sat on one end of the couch with a mug of coffee next to him and a pad of paper and pencil in his hands. A box of colored pencils lay across his knee. Loki assumed from the fact that he was completely ignoring his surroundings that he was busy drawing. He wore a white T-shirt and jeans, and completely didn't notice Stark staring unabashedly at him from the other side of the couch. Loki could see the glow of the Arc reactor through the Black Sabbath shirt. He hadn't noticed it earlier.
Natasha had claimed an armchair and was busy reading, her fiery hair falling in her eyes every now and then. She wore a dark brown shirt over an orange tank top, a yellow jacket, and black jeans, and looked completely at ease. Loki knew she could jump up and have someone in a headlock within seconds if she wanted to.
Bruce Banner wore his traditional purple shirt and khaki pants, glasses on, staring down at a tablet and a pile of papers alternately. He didn't seem to notice Loki's arrival, which Loki thought may have been for the better; Loki hadn't spoken to Banner since the Battle fo New York, not exactly anxious to get Hulk-smashed again. Banner stood by the bar, the papers spread out on the counter. He looked a little frazzled; Loki wondered idly how late he'd been up working.
Clint Barton lay sprawled across the loveseat, his head in Coulson's lap as Coulson (the only one not in civilian clothes) read something, a S.H.I.E.L.D. report or a news article, on his phone. Barton wore a magenta shirt and gray leather jacket (what was it with the jackets today? Indoors?!), with black jeans (there was a lot of that going around today, too). He glared at Loki for a split second before he went back to paying attention to his phone, too.
And then there was Thor.
Loki's breath caught in his throat when his eyes fell on his brother. A dark green shirt peeked out from under the double layer of jackets Thor wore - a lighter-material black one under a gray denim one. And the jeans - Loki didn't think he'd ever seen Thor in jeans before. He looked amazing.
Loki forced his thoughts and his eyes away from Thor. It wouldn't do him any good, not now.
Natasha noticed him first. "Hey, Loki," she said. Then she smirked and spoke in Russian: "Красивый костюм." [Nice suit.]
Loki grinned back. "Спасибо. Хотя, возможно, я украл его, а может и нет," he replied, his Russian flawless as usual. [Thanks. Though I may or may not have stolen it.]
Natasha glared at him. "А ты?" she demanded. [Did you?]
Loki held up his hands in surrender, aware that by now the rest of the Avengers were either staring at him or looking back and forth between him and Natasha.
"Не совсем. Это точная копия, сделанная в Асгарде и обработанная моей магией," he explained. [Not exactly. It's a replica, made in Asgard and refined by my magic.]
"Все еще хорошо смотрится на тебе," Natasha smirked. [Still looks good on you.]
"Natasha!" Loki protested.
A sly grin appeared on her face. "Бьюсь об заклад, Тор тоже так думает." [I bet Thor thinks so too.]
Loki glared at her. "Почему вы немного-!" he began. [Why you little-!]
Natasha laughed. "Care to finish that sentence?" she said in English.
Loki switched as well, enjoying the confused looks on the rest of the Avengers' faces. "Please. Even without my magic, I bet I could beat you in a fight. Since you are implying an impending fight, arent you?" Loki raised an eyebrow as he said this. Natasha grinned at him.
"Oh, really?" she said. "Thor said you aren't much of a fighter. And yes, that was what I meant."
Loki glared at her; she'd mentioned Thor again. "Перестань упоминать моего брата!" he hissed in Russian. [Stop mentioning my brother!]
Natasha smirked. "О, так он теперь твой брат?" she taunted. [Oh, so he's your brother now?] "What changed?"
"О, ты не просто спросил меня об этом," Loki said. [Oh, you did not just ask me that.]
"Yes I did," Natasha countered. "Так ты мне скажешь или нет?" [So are you going to tell me or not?]
Loki glared at her again. "Later," he said, aware of the rest of the Avengers looking on in confusion. "Без публики." [Without an audience.]
Natasha rolled her eyes. "Тьфу. Хорошо. Я могу подождать." [Ugh. Fine. I can wait.]
The others seemed to sense the conversation was over, because Stark spoke up. "What the hell was all that about?"
"You do not want to know, Stark," Loki sighed, glaring at Natasha again. Natasha just grinned.
"You really don't, Tony, believe me," Natasha laughed.
Stark looked a bit frustrated.
"So," Loki said, leaning casually against the nearest wall and letting his gaze sweep the room. "What exactly did we all convene in here for?"
The Avengers exchanged looks. Loki tensed.
"It's Halloween," said Rogers.
"Yes, I am aware of this. Your point?" Loki raised an eyebrow.
More exchanged looks. "Our point," Stark told him, "was that we're all planning on a public costume party in Central Park tonight."
"And we were wondering if you would join us."
Loki stared at them all incredulously, sure they must be joking. When it became clear that they weren't (though Barton didn't look happy about it at all), Loki voiced it aloud.
"You've got to be kidding me," he said. "Why would any of you think it's a good idea to bring me to a costume party in a public place like Central Park?"
"Because," Natasha told him. "You need to be let out of the Tower once in a while, you need to show the people of New York you're trying to change, and you live with us, so whether you like it or not you'd be dragged along anyway since Tony doesn't trust you to stay at the Tower alone."
"This is true," Stark nodded.
Loki smirked at Nastaha. "Always to the point, aren't you?"
Natasha smirked back. "Ты идешь или нет?" [You coming or not?]
Loki sighed and shook his head. "Да ладно, иду." Then, at the blank looks on the rest of the Avengers' faces: "Yes, fine, I'm coming."
"Great," Thor said, the first he'd spoken. "Now, Stark, the question is what exactly you were planning to have us go to this costume party as."
Stark shrugged. "Hadn't actually figured that out yet."
Rogers sighed and hastily hid a smile that Loki caught anyway; Barton chuckled; Coulson shook his head; Natasha rolled her eyes; Banner's sigh from the corner was quite audible; Thor shook his head; and Loki merely smirked. They were all idiots. Except possibly Natasha.
"I think I may have a solution," Loki said lazily.
All eyes turned to him, even Barton's. Satisfied that he had everyone's attention, Loki stood up straight.
"I can create costumes for you all, myself included," Loki told them. "But it will only work if these -" He held up a hand to show off the glinting gold bracelet on his wrist - "are off."
"No," Barton said immediately.
"Shut up, Clint," Natasha snapped. She turned back to Loki. "Explain."
Loki sighed. "I can create costumes and decorations and whatever else you need except food using my magic, but in order for that to work these inhibitors must be removed. Temporarily," he added at the wary looks on their faces. "The moment the party's over they can go back on."
"No," Barton repeated flatly.
"Shut up, Clint." It was Coulson this time. Once more, Loki was surprised at him; he hadn't had much contact with Coulson, seeing as the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent was constantly out in the field and Loki was constantly in his room, but Loki was still perplexed by Coulson's attitude toward him. While Coulson seemed like a very mild-mannered man, Loki had also stabbed him through the chest. He should have died. He should have hated Loki. And yet...here he was telling Barton to stand down.
"How do we trust that you won't just renege on us and take off the moment your magic is restored?" Banner asked in his perpetually nervous voice.
Loki grinned. "I can see why you think I'd do that," he smirked. "But I won't. I know you don't trust me. I know this would be taking a huge risk for all parties involved. But I swear, the only thing I'll use my magic for tonight is for the purposes of the party."
The Avengers all exchanged looks. Some silent conversation seemed to pass between the seven of them (Coulson was technically merely a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, but so were the rest, so it made no difference to Loki).
Stark turned back to Loki. "Okay," he allowed. "But just for tonight. Just for the party."
Loki nodded. "That's all I require." He jerked his head at Thor. "Come on already. Remove these blasted things."
Thor approached; Loki tried his best (and his best was really quite good) to disguise the fact that his heart rate picked up a bit as the Thunderer drew nearer. Loki blamed it on the dream.
With a touch, Thor removed the magic-dampening bracelets. Loki could physically feel it as his magic was restored, the power flowing through him soothingly. He hadn't realized how drained he felt without it until it was back.
Loki sighed in relief. "Much better," he said. "Now, about those costumes..."
To be continued on Halloween itself...I'm so sorry guys, this chapter turned out WAY longer than I expected, so I have to split it into two parts. I know the cliffhanger was absolutely evil, I'm sorry...oh wait no I'm not because it's me. *grins* Also, the outfits described above are for the most part the same civilian outfits worn by the Avengers in the first Avengers movie, except for Thor and Loki, whose outfits are from Ragnarok. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE leave a review telling me what you thought of the dream sequence!