Six days.
He'd been gone for six days.
Not that she was counting or anything. Because that would be desperate and weird and...oh god, when did she become that girl? Not cool.
But when you were used to nightly visits, six days was a long time. And yet not, because he would be gone six more. Maybe 106 more. Hell, maybe 106 fucking years more.
She knew why he did it. He had been living in a sort of limbo, so it was only a matter of time before he either made peace or…well, killed everyone.
But there was another reason he left. He had said it as a throwaway, but she knew that was how Loki tended to mention the most important stuff. Or at least she hoped she did. Because it would be the most overtly romantic thing he had ever done for her - suffering so that they could be together without repercussions. Well, without more repercussions. Because apparently (hopefully) he wanted them to be a real couple. Which was equal parts absurd and glorious. With a little dash of terrifying thrown in just for laughs.
Dating the God of Mischief sounded like something that should come with hazard pay.
But he said that he wanted them to go public. As in, tell everybody – S.H.I.E.L.D., Thor, Jane, Tony…maybe even Darcy's own mother. Hell, maybe even Loki's own mother! And then they could actually acknowledge each other's presence whenever they crossed paths. A real couple. Which blew her mind because that was the one thing she wanted so badly - and when you want something that badly, it never happens. Ever.
So this was the right thing for Loki to do.
But she'd never been particularly patient. And this was taking a long damn time. It had been over 144 whole hours now! Six mornings of waking up to an empty bed and an empty shower and an empty life. Granted, six days to an immortal probably felt like six milliseconds - but still...
And she was getting sloppy. She spent over three months mounting the guy like an enthusiastic bull-rider and no one but Tony even vaguely suspected. It took about six hours without Loki before people started asking her what was wrong, like she had a neon sign over her head saying - "My Heart Hurts Like a Bitch, Ask Me How!"
And everyone was blaming poor Steve! Apparently, he was seeing some really sweet girl that was an assistant to an assistant to an undersecretary or something like that. And everyone still thought Darcy had popped his cherry. So people assumed she was moping like a bitch because he had dumped her for the redhead. As if such a thing would ever happen (Darcy's rack was infinitely better). She really wanted to clear up that little misunderstanding, but it was sorta convenient. Tony aside, the tact level was pretty high around S.H.I.E.L.D., so no one would bring it up to her face and force her to lie. She still wasn't very good at lying, despite banging the god of it. Now people would just give her a lot of pitying looks, which she could deal with. Only Tony seemed to be giving her that scary I-think-I've-almost-figured-out-something-important-but-don't-really-wanna-be-right look. She only hoped he would hold off on confronting her about it until Loki got back. Although they both could have died from old age by that point.
Not that she was being melodramatic or anything - but the man did say years. Years.
And she was kinda nervous that she was becoming depressed. Like clinically depressed. She found herself crying over stupid things like broken staplers and greeting card commercials. And she couldn't stop eating. Seriously, she was eating like a lonely cat lady on a Friday night. At this rate, she would be so undesirable by the time he came back that it wouldn't even matter that he actually did come back because he wouldn't want her anymore.
And the cold thing was so fucking weird! At night, she would shiver like a mofo and no matter how many blankets she put on, she couldn't stop feeling cold. Psychosomatic symptoms of missing her icy bedfellow? Probably. How lame was that? She was becoming as mopey as Jane had been during those long-ass months Thor was gone. When he was in Asgard. Where Loki now was. Being punished.
Again, she felt like crying.
This was getting ridiculous. She was about two pints of Ben & Jerry's away from playing "Nothing Compares 2 U" on repeat while crying in the dark.
No way. She was not that girl. She was a badass bitch and wasn't going to mope around like someone completely lovesick and pathetic and stupid. Someone like…Jane. She was not turning into Jane! Oh hell no. She did not need a man to complete her. She was just fine before Loki showed up and she would be just fine until he got back.
She would.
She would keep on trucking while she calmly waited for him to come back to her like he promised. And then they could come out of the metaphorical closet. And laugh at the looks on everyone's faces. Even though S.H.I.E.L.D. might kill her for fraternizing with the enemy, she couldn't wait to tell everybody – that would be ridiculously fun. Maybe they could just start making out on the conference table in the middle of a meeting? That would certainly clue everyone in and be enjoyable at the same time. Very enjoyable. Especially when he did that thing where he sucked on her tongue and it felt sooo…
And now she was horny. And alone. Great.
Darcy looked up at the ceiling, feeling pathetic, and whispered, "Loki, come back soon."
Loki had never paid much attention to the passage of time. Tomorrow would follow tomorrow would follow tomorrow, without end.
But Midgard – and Darcy – had changed that for him.
He was now acutely aware of each second that passed. While it would bleed on endlessly for him, Darcy's life was an hourglass – the sand would only drip for so long before it was empty. While he knew objectively that each moment he spent in Asgard would ensure a dozen such moments on Midgard in safety and relative peace, Darcy only had so many more moments before her sand ran out.
He finally understood why Thor had been so pained at his forced separation from the barely tolerable Jane Foster – it wasn't merely the distance, but the knowledge that there was only a finite amount of time allocated to a mortal and it was passing. And passing quickly.
And yet for him, the days seemed interminable. Dawn till dusk, he would stand on the pedestal and ignore the seemingly endless parade of Asgardians that came to watch his punishment. Some jeered, but most just stared at him like he was a fascinating art installation – a conversation piece over that night's dinner. It was mildly degrading and vastly irritating. Not to mention the fact that his lips still ached…and he was starting to feel a bit peckish. While he wouldn't die from hunger, it would get damn annoying after a while. But there was nothing to be done about that. Without using his magic, his lips would not open a sliver. It was actually quite impressive. In another life, his father would have made an excellent seamstress.
And the nights were becoming unbearable. While the days were frustrating, at least the crowd of gawkers would keep him distracted. But the nights…
He had gotten used to Darcy Lewis. Her body, her smell, her smile, her voice. He found himself missing these things. Missing her.
How ridiculous. How very human of him.
He hadn't even realized he was capable of missing anything. Granted, nothing had ever been taken away from him before. At least not like this. He found himself wondering what else he was capable of.
As good as Loki was at reading others, he had never been particularly self-aware. Had he been, he would have figured out his parentage ages ago. There had been clues that he simply missed. Or ignored.
And once again, he had apparently missed something.
Long hours of standing on that pedestal made Loki realize that his feelings for Darcy were more complicated than he had imagined.
He missed her. Truly missed her. It actually pained him.
Why?
She certainly wasn't anything special by Midgardian standards. Yes, she was physically appealing and moderately intelligent. But there were more attractive mortals and vastly more intelligent ones, even within S.H.I.E.L.D. itself.
But she was…different. He had trouble separating the way he felt about her from the way she made him feel about himself. He had assumed that he liked spending time with her because she amused him – didn't fear him – desired him – pleasured him – accepted him. But viewing her as an individual, he analyzed Darcy again.
He missed her. He wanted to be near her. He came here and endured this farce of a punishment for her as much as for himself.
As he explored the reasons why this was so, he allowed himself to entertain the idea that he might…love her. It was a ludicrous notion, and he had never let himself consider such a possibility before as doing so would have been nothing more than a waste of his valuable time. But even though it was an impossibility, it was the only explanation for the profound sense of loss he felt without her.
He had always prided himself on his ability to do without anyone or anything. But he was having genuine difficulty doing without her. So much so that every moment was a struggle not to return to Midgard, even though he knew that the time spent apart would ensure a smoother time spent together. He knew this. He understood it. But he still balked at it.
He felt broken.
Oh.
No.
Allfather help him, he loved her.
What was he supposed to do now?
She could destroy him. He had let her in too far and it was much too late. Fury at his own weakness filled him. And panic. He actually loved her. A ridiculous mortal with only moderately above-average talents to recommend her. And he was the damned God of Mischief. What kind of god fell in love with a useless mortal fema…oh no. Oh no. He was turning into Thor. That was simply not acceptable in any way. Jane Foster had tamed the God of Thunder – transforming him from an unconquerable warrior into a willing prisoner of war.
No fucking way was that going to happen to him.
For the first time since his return to Asgard, Loki broke the rules. Making a quick double and switching places, he retired to his room for a moment. He needed quiet and seclusion. He needed space. He needed a drink - which wasn't going to happen (fucking Odin sewing his fucking mouth fucking shut). How could he have been so careless? He was a godsdamned fool. He loved her.
How did that happen?
How did that happen?
How did that happen?
How did that happen?
All good questions.
But no answers would readily come - just images and memories of his sweet girl.
It suddenly occurred to Loki that he was not the most powerful being in the universe like he had assumed. No. There must be some higher power out there because it was laughing at him right now.
Love.
How embarrassing.
It was a weakness and he had not given either himself or Darcy permission to make such an emotion arise within him. Like a dream half-forgotten, Loki suddenly recalled a conversation he had with his mother when he had been a boy. He hadn't understood why it was called 'falling' in love. Why wasn't it called running into love? Or dancing into love? Love was a positive emotion and there was no positive connotation to falling. Frigga had just smiled indulgently at her youngest son and his incessant questions. Then she told him that it was simply because love, like falling, was unstoppable and unexpected and often painful. With love, you don't get to choose, you can't prevent it – you just fall. He had assumed she was being a typical Asgardian woman – oddly jaded yet disgustingly sentimental. He had also assumed he was above such a thing. But apparently even gods stumble. And stagger. And fall.
Loki ran a hand through his hair, still caught between resignation and disbelief.
Darcy Lewis had bested him.
Well, at least his mother would be pleased. He had a feeling she had given up hope long ago on ever finding a woman for Loki.
A/N: Fellow Loki-lovers, a moment of your time. StarTrekFanWriter is amazing. Go read her work. Please? You won't regret it.
And FYI, I have the best reviewers. Other writers may think they have the best reviewers. But no. Sorry. They are very wrong. I am so thankful and humbled by the amount of positive feedback I've been getting. You guys keep me going strong.