Loki whips out his binoculars as a Red Tailed Hawk lands on Belvedere Castle. There is a nest there on the ledge, and the mother has been tending to her eggs beautifully. Loki pulls out his notebook and jots down an entry in his Audubon journal. He has become an expert about all of Central Park's flying citizens. He pulls out his sketch pad and draws the scene. He has gotten quite good with practice these past many months. He draws the long lines outlining the hawk's wing span before continuing on to the details of the head. He doesn't know why, but the tiny little family is important to him.
When Loki finishes drawing he tries to put the pencil back in its box, but the pencil slips from his grasp and he curses himself. He keeps dropping things, and bumping into things. He has little bruises everywhere from either stumbling or catching the corner of furniture. It's like his center of gravity is off, which it is. He's gotten fat. Too much mint chip ice cream. Too much fish. He can't help it. There are some days he is just completely ravenous. His stomach isn't too doughy, thankfully. He is able to hide his weight gain with good tailoring.
He doesn't beat himself up about it though. Baby steps. He's learning how to just be in the world and not try to run it. No plotting. No intrigues. No looking at those fucking asshole teenagers over there and imagining how if he were King of Midgard they would all be his slaves and getting whipped on a regular basis for their insolent behavior. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. He has to stop trying to want control and dominate people. People don't like that. Though he has come to find, he doesn't like people. He likes specific people, but dealing with the masses is torture.
He found that out the hard way when he volunteered at a homeless shelter last month. The rudeness and outright belligerence of some of those people had been shocking. Loki almost killed one man on the spot. He didn't go back. He'll have to find some other way to pay recompense to Midgard. Until then, he's taking it easy and watching the birds.
The vacation has been good for Loki. No pressure. No duties. Just soul searching and bird watching. He's taken up other hobbies too. His mother taught him to sew when he was very young, and quilting has also been filling up his time of late.
Loki packs up all his things into his shoulder bag and heads home. The quilt is a story board of colors and history. Each square has been lovingly hand stitched and embroidered with symbols and scenes from Loki's memory. Some good, some bad, and some transformative. It has been therapeutic for Loki and forced him to reflect on moments he'd rather forget.
The sun filters into his living room which smells of lavender and peonies. He feels energetic this afternoon, and he uses the burst of energy to clean his home again. It is already spotless, but there is some dust behind the refrigerator he hasn't gotten to yet. He gets on his hands and knees with an old toothbrush and inspects the baseboards in the areas where the mop can't reach.
After five hours of that he is exhausted and his back is screaming in protest. He lies down on the couch to watch Downton Abbey, and wonders about how the servants back home used to see him. When he heads to bed he turns on his noise machine and listens to the sound of rain falling and lights a rain scented candle. He doesn't think too deeply on why he has these things. It is comforting. Nothing more.
He turns out the light and falls into a deep restful sleep, until about one the morning when his abdomen seizes in pain.
"Ah!" Loki cries out. He sits up and turns on the light to find his stomach covered in thick viscous blood. He looks like he has been stabbed. He looks around the room but does not see an assailant. Thor is not one to stab and run, nor does he sense the presence of another person at all. Another tremor squeezes his insides and more blood comes gushing out. Loki gets up and runs to the bathroom. He lifts his shirt to see that his belly button has expanded and there is a giant gaping hole, about an inch wide with a canal leading deeper. More alarming, his skin is blue. Odin's charm is failing and his true appearance is bleeding through. One of his eyes is blood red while the other still green.
Loki's mind reels as he tries to understand what is happening to him. His stomach muscles contract again and the hole gets even larger. It is then that Loki notices a tuft of blonde hair at the center.
"Oh dear gods!" Loki's tears freeze on his cheek and fall into the sink, clinking like a loud bell. He grabs a stack of towels and lays them out in the tub and climbs in. He gets on his hands and knees. His memory riffles through everything it knows about Jotunn anatomy. He should have known! How could he have been so obtuse, so stupid, so blind? All the signs were there. Worry spreads to Loki's heart then. He never felt the baby move. Is it even alive? Can Jotunns feel their babies move?
"AHHHHH!" Loki bears down through another contraction. More blood. More thick clear mucus. He pants as the pain increases in intensity and frequency. His hair is getting in the way. It is so long now. He feels the bulk of the child move within him, assisted by gravity. He feels something inside shift and with one more great shock of pain he cries out as the child slips from his body in a single easy push.
The baby girl lands on the soft cotton towel with a cry. Her bright blue eyes look up at him as she squirms and reaches for her mother. Her pretty blonde hair is matted with fluids. Loki picks her up and stands. He removes the dirty towels and turns on the water as tears of joy stream down his face.
Her perfect little pink fingers curl into his long black hair. Her coos are soft and her toothless mouth suckles at Loki's shoulder as the warm shower water trickles down Loki's back, washing away the birthing mess. He cradles her and inspects her. She looks like Thor, gorgeous. His heart swells. He has someone to care for, and someone to love him back.
He has family again.