Darcy kept staring at the piece of paper in her hand as if waiting for it to burst into flames or bite her or something strange and scary like that. But it just stared back at her mockingly, the writing on it unchanging. She had come home from work (or whatever you wanted to call that place she went to ten hours a days where she pretended to do paperwork while actually playing Angry Birds on her phone) and found a piece of paper on her pillow that most definitely had not been there before. It was thick and expensive-looking…parchment, maybe? Even before looking at what was written on it, her heart had double-thumped knowing exactly who would leave such an ostentatious note in such an inappropriate place. But just to check, she had picked it up and read the text written there in emerald ink, handwriting ornate but slanted in a way that seemed incongruously threatening.

'In the event of zombie apocalypse.'

Beneath that little line of text were ten numbers. It was unsigned, but that didn't matter. Half of her mind understood exactly what the paper was trying to convey to her, but the other half needed to sit down.

Apparently the God of Mischief had a cellphone.

No matter how many times she tried to grasp the idea, it failed to compute. She wasn't sure if it was because Thor was not allowed to use cellphones (you can only break so many before someone deems it a bad idea), or simply that she couldn't imagine Loki actually using one. Who would the God of Mischief call? Would he use it just to prank the stupid mortals? Possibly.

And she was apparently one of those stupid mortals.

Putting aside the fact that Loki had been in her bedroom, she just couldn't understand why he was giving her his number. They'd spoken to each other a grand total of twice and no one in S.H.I.E.L.D. had seen him since he had signed the treaty almost two weeks ago.

Knowing it was a bad idea, but unable to help herself, she reached for the phone in her back pocket and entered in the numbers on the paper. Steeling herself, she pressed the send button and held the phone up to her ear quickly before she lost her nerve.

One ring…she knew it wasn't going to be his actual number, it was probably going to be a phone-sex service or suicide prevention hotline…two rings…he probably didn't even have a phone, or he stole it off a guy he killed and now the police would be looking for her - oh she shouldn't have dialed…three rings…she was gonna hang up…

"Traditional or modern?"

Darcy blinked. That was Loki's voice (which her girl-parts would recognize anywhere), but the words made zero sense. Complete bewilderment seemed to be par for the course today.

"What?"

"The zombies. Traditional or modern? I have found that the more modern the zombie, the faster they can move. I am somewhat busy at the moment, so unless there are modern, sprinting undead beating down your door, you will have to manage on your own for a little while."

She was so very confused. Just to be safe, she whispered into the phone, "Am I on drugs?"

She wasn't sure how he would know that, but he seemed to know everything else.

Suddenly, the God of Mischief was standing in front of her. She stifled a scream and froze as he leaned very, very far into her personal space. For a moment, she was absolutely sure he would kiss her. It made no sense, but then again nothing about him was making sense to her today. Should she let him kiss her? He would probably do something bad to her if she refused. That was a good reason to let him, and the one she would use if anyone ever found out about it.

To her relief (or everlasting shame and disappointment) he just looked in her eyes, then pulled back and disappeared.

His voice was in her ear, "You do not seem to be drugged."

She blinked at the empty space in front of her. Dazed, she spoke into the phone, "You were in my room again."

"No, I was not. I told you that I am busy at the moment."

"But-," her voice cut off as she remembered his ability to be in two places at once. Or twenty places at once. Handy. Terrifying.

"Oh. Right." She decided that there was no way to mentally recover from all of this, so she would just pretend that everything was normal – that her calling Loki was just something that happened sometimes. "So…whatcha up to?"

There. That was normal.

"Mischief, of course."

Ah, right. He was the god of it. Right now all she felt like she was the god of was awkward situations.

"Cool. Just don't do anything that'll require an alibi. I don't think I could help you there. I'm feeling pretty useless right now."

"I do not believe I would wish to continue living in a world where I required your assistance. But I suppose convention dictates that I thank you for the concern."

Was she concerned? She wasn't sure. This was way too weird.

"So, can I ask why you felt the need to give me your number?" A thought occurred to her, "Wait…there isn't something that I should know about, is there? The world isn't actually going to end anytime soon. Right?"

He sounded impatient, "Not that I am aware. Apocalypse-level events tend not to come on the heels of one another. You should have at least another year before such a worry. There is a cyclical nature to these things. Now if you merely called me out of curiosity, I am afraid I must hang up now."

She went to respond, but the sound of a click and a dial tone indicated that the bastard apparently didn't know how to say goodbye properly. Whatever.

She put the phone down on her nightstand slowly and stared at it for a few moments. That actually happened, right? She quickly picked it back up and scrolled to the recent calls list. The number was there, staring back at her. She moved her thumb over to the save button and then debated on how exactly to label it. 'Loki' would raise too many red flags if S.H.I.E.L.D. got a hold of her phone. 'God of Mischief' wasn't any better. Maybe she could abbreviate it? 'GOM', it is.

She threw herself onto the bed, mind whirling. Loki gave her his number. Why? An idea occurred to her. She pulled the phone up to her face again and scrolled through it looking for Jane. She pressed send quickly and waited impatiently for her friend to answer.

"Hey, Darcy. What's up?"

That was a very good question. "Jane, you didn't happen to hear from Loki lately, did you?"

There was a brief pause on the other end, "Loki? Um, noooo. Why?"

So it was only her. She had thought that Loki might have reached out to a few people close to his brother so that they could contact him if Thor ever needed his help. Or something. Apparently, she was wrong.

"Oh, no reason. I'm just nervous that we haven't heard from him in a while. God of Mischief and all that."

She hoped Jane bought her half-assed excuse. Luck was on her side, "Yeah, I know what you mean. But I think he's actually done with…all of that. Thor seems to think so anyway."

Darcy certainly hoped so, considering the man in question was leaving things on her pillow. She had to stop thinking about that.

"Yeah, probably. Hey, you wanna grab a drink tonight?" Darcy definitely needed alcohol.

"Oh, sorry. Thor and I are going out. We haven't had any alone time lately."

Damn. She was disappointed, but Darcy couldn't begrudge the two of them some sexytimes. They deserved it. Still, Darcy could have really used a drink and someone else's perspective on the whole Loki thing. Jane and (to a lesser extent) Thor were about the closest things Darcy had to friends these days. It sucked being a part of a secret organization. Ah well.

"No problem. Make sure he wraps his hammer before he pillages your villages - I'm too young to be an auntie!"

Jane made a slight choking noise, "Darcy! You're so crude."

Eh. She'd been called worse.

"Call me later, chica."

"Bye, Darcy." Another click followed by another dial tone.

Darcy picked up the note that was still lying next to her on the bed and studied the handwriting. Loki had actually taken the time to write her something. And he sent a doppelgänger to see if she was high. That was almost sweet. Objectively, Darcy realized that Loki had to have some sort of ulterior motive for reaching out to her. And it must have something to do with Thor. But that was as far as Darcy could get.

She couldn't believe she actually thought he was going to kiss her. She was such a spazz sometimes.

And she was not disappointed that he was only checking the dilation of her eyes or whatever. She did not want the homicidal megalomaniac who had terrorized her friends to kiss her. That would be weird and wrong. So, so wrong.

She rolled over and screamed into her pillow. The pillow Loki had put a note on, her mind unhelpfully supplied. She unconsciously breathed it in, trying to locate his scent on the fabric. Catching herself, she screamed again.

She was an idiot.

She thought about contacting S.H.I.E.L.D. They would probably be pissed if they found out Undesirable No. 1 had been leaving notes on her pillow. (Get over the damn pillow already, Darcy!). The safe thing to do would be to call Agent Coulson and tell him what had happened. She reached for the phone again and scrolled through it. She froze with her finger on the send button.

What if Loki…what if…fuck. She wasn't even sure what to think about it all. She hit cancel and put the phone down. She closed her eyes, pulling the bedspread around her.

Later. She would figure everything out later.

Loki shimmered the phone away and focused back on the task at hand. As amusing as he found Darcy Lewis, negotiating with the disappointed and angry leaders of another race truly required all of one's attention. He had promised much to the Skrulls for their assistance in his plan to subjugate the Midgardians under his rule, and they were not pleased that he had done an about-face at the last moment. Defeat is one matter, but Loki had simply changed his mind. Making them understand why he had done it was proving more difficult than he had imagined. Making them agree not to complete the task without him was proving damn near impossible. For the seventy-third time since he had seen his brother's blood staining the concrete beneath his limp form, Loki wondered if he was doing the right thing.

He still had difficulty understanding why his plan to rule Midgard was viewed as such a bad thing. The Midgardians were the most self-destructive people he had come across in all of his travels. While many races were warmongers by trade, Midgardians fought only amongst themselves and received no profit for doing so. It was baffling. Having a ruler who could channel that hatred and violence and force them to turn it outwards could only be beneficial to them. And Loki was already a prince twice-over - he would have handled the responsibility of the throne with delicacy and respect.

Not to mention that it would have been fun to see the look on Odin's face when the people of Midgard bowed to him as their king. Worshipped him. Thanked him.

But alas, life changes with every breath. He had turned around and there was Thor – his brother – wounded, possibly dying. And someone was going to pay for that. Loki, for all of his anger, had never really wanted to kill Thor. Hurt him – possibly. Censure him – probably. Humiliate him – definitely. Someone had needed to teach Thor a lesson in how to put the needs of others before his own impulsive desires, and their father was too busy napping. So Loki had stepped up. He could have blasted him to dust with the Destroyer, but he didn't. He hit him, true. Hard, also true. But it wasn't a fatal wound. Well, not immediately so. He lived long enough to redeem himself and play the hero the way he was meant to from the beginning. The way Odin had always hoped he would. But nobody ever thanked Loki for his part in that. If Loki hadn't sent the Destroyer to Midgard to hasten Thor's little transformation from selfish child into honorable king, he would still be mortal and wandering about like a scolded puppy.

But Thor had gotten hurt, and it had jolted Loki. Disregarding his first days on Midgard, Thor had never been truly injured before. Loki had seen him laugh off injuries that would have put Fandral in the infirmary for weeks. And so Loki had lost a bit of control over his emotions, and devastated the creature who thought it wise to attack his brother. And then he looked around at the chaos playing out at his feet. While it was amusing creating it, the victory had seemed hollow at that moment. So he had stepped in front of a Skrull with a sword at Steve Roger's throat and called it off.

Midgardians may have been made to be ruled, but they did not want to be ruled. Fools. The lot of them.

And now he was forced to talk circles around a bitter band of former allies. The Skrulls had never been truly necessary to Loki's plan – he could enslave Midgard without any assistance. He could probably enslave the Nine Realms if he put his mind to it. But they had been useful from a strategic point of view. Alien invasion, full-scale and unexpected – that was something liable to throw Midgardians off-balance. Nothing like a common enemy to bring people together. Though in the end, it had been Loki himself who was painted as that enemy. His bad luck was truly astounding. Still, part of him realized that he had brought this on himself.

His words were failing him again. The Skrulls would not back down. Fine.

Loki turned to the one that presented the most opposition. Loki's voice was sharp as a razor, "You will leave the Nine Realms. And you will do so immediately."

The creature had the audacity to laugh at him, "You think to order me around! How da-," his words were cut off as he disintegrated. Loki moved his eyes back to the one in charge, affecting an air of boredom and menace.

"You will leave. Now. I will not ask again. I have no qualms with annihilating your race."

For the first time in their presence, Loki let his power coil around him like a snake, crackling the air with electric bursts of energy. The Skrulls looked nervously from the pile of ashes on the floor to the slender man standing before them with cold eyes.

Their leader, Zedrao, addressed Loki with more deference than he had ever previously afforded him, "Yes. We will leave. Now."

Loki's answering smile was chilling. "Good. I will be watching."

And again, with his threat still lingering in the air, Loki disappeared.