To You

Okay, just to clear up the timeline a little (for myself, and I guess you guys too):

1. Loki was unconscious for a month

2. Lived with Tati for almost a month

3. When SHIELD gets to her, he's been gone for almost two months.

4. When Loki is attacked by Thor and Rogers, it's been three months since he left.

So, roughly 5 months total here. Almost a half-year.

--XXXX-

I've always enjoyed storms. Their rage and power strike with sheets of rain. It's pretty to see. On stormy day, I usually take the time to make myself a cup of something hot, then sit by a window and watch it pour.

We're into fall now, with most of the summer storms passed. But that particular bit of news appears to have passed the rains by, as on Saturday evening a massive one crops up out of nowhere. I've finished dinner, and stand in the living room, staring out of the window as the iron-coloured drops pelt the outdoors.

Winchester curls against my ankles, looking up to cry loudly as thunder shakes the house.

"It's just rain," I tell him. "Nothing major. Besides, I happen to like storms."

I leave to retrieve my mug from the kitchen, holding its warmth between my hands as I observe the chaos building outside. According to the radio, its noise wafting from the kitchen behind me, this was totally unexpected. The day hadn't been the slightest bit overcast, yet these dark clouds came out of thin air to rain hell upon us all. I sip my coffee, eyes flickering over the scene.

Leaves scatter from the trees - - -all the better, seeing as fall is upon us. One or two bright scraps of foliage past themselves to my window. Soon, it's coming down so hard all I can make out it shapes, but mostly a wet grayness that is rain.

And then, almost out of nothingness, a black shape emerging from the treeline. I squint. "A bear?"

It approaches, lumbering closer and closer through the downpour. I don't even think twice before pressing closer to the glass. One hand touches the cold surface, wiping off the mist. What could it possibly be? At this distance, I can make neither heads nor tails of it.

The figure moves through the landscape slowly. As it comes closer, I can make out colour- - - -brown, some black, and dark green. Silver winks in through the rain. I reel back. It's heading straight toward the house. "What the hell?" There is purpose in the measured gait. I take in the motion, marking the steps of a human, not any creature native to our wood. Thunder rolls ahead. Win tenses against my ankles. He's stopped winding between my limbs, and stares up into the window as I do. I stoop to reassure him.

"It's okay pretty boy," I murmur. "Just a storm, eh? And some creepy person-thing in the yard."

And then, from the foggy scene, more defined features become visible. It's clearly a thin person, made more solid with some kind of long jacket thing swirling around their ankles. The glass, beaded with water, masks other features, though. I strain to see some remarkable detail.

Lightening flares, lighting the yard. And then, around the mist, I realize. It isn't just any random person walking through my yard, stalking toward my window, scaring the crap out of my cat.

"Loki."

I drop my mug. It clatters to the floor, coffee soaking into the carpet. The mess I ignore, having only eyes for the god. My world shifts, its focus zeroing in on the sole, dark figure coming straight toward me. In seconds he is close enough make out properly. I can see the cloak, the heavy leather boots and skirt, the glittering, ethereal armor. Eyes rise to meet mine, leveling solidly.

Even with several yards and glass between us, I am affected. For almost three months, I have missed that gaze. A now, I'd give anything to make it disappear. To never see it again in all my days. My spine crackles with something akin to horror and doubt. I cannot move, only stare ahead, mind blazing with cold. For what feels like an age, our eyes are locked.

My knees buckle. The god steps forward.

And I run.

Win hisses as I bolt, though where it's toward my motion, or the guy making a quick approach to our house, I can't tell. I dart up the stairs, making for the bedroom, shutting myself in. In retrospect, this was not the best of plans.

I don't even make it that far, though. Because as I hit the landing, with another three steps ahead, the god materializes directly ahead of me. Less than five feet away, at the second-to-last step before the top.

Decked out in his Asgardian garb, looking down upon me, the god drips onto the carpet. He's damp, wet from the rain. Hair matted and stuck to the side of his face, he appears at least slightly less intimidating. His goatee and general facial hair is completely gone, giving his features an all-around sharper look. He is...young. Younger that I had assumed. One long cut, bloodied with half-clotted, bright red cells, is engraved across his cheek. It's just a grazed cheek, yet I feel compelled to reach out, to heal. My breath is ragged as I peer up, hands curling to fists. But I move backwards, my spine hitting the wall. I wince.

Loki descends, ignoring the yowls of Winchester, who is undoubtedly still pissed after their last encounter.

Without any consideration, I turn to flee back down the stairs. He meets me there, have transported himself with his usual vanishing act, carelessly throwing back his head to dispel some of the water running down his cheeks. Looking back, he passes me an "oh-come-now" look before walking up the stairs. I am trapped. The bastard. My wrists are soon in his grasp, and I yank away while he observes calmly.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I spit. My arms are beginning to tire.

"I was in the neighborhood."

"And you just decided to stop in?" I ask, incredulous. "What happened to the whole 'better off' thing?"

Seriousness colours his tone. "I was wrong. We're going."

"We-"

In a moment, we're gone. Win's cries still ringing in my ears, I am blinded by an abrupt flash. Loki's grip on my wrists tightens painfully. I can feel myself being pull forcefully before the world settles around me again.

-XXX-

"Where is Winchester?" I ask dumbly, voice excruciatingly squeaky even to my ears. Of course. I'm kidnapped by some alien-god and my first concern is my cat. Naturally.

But Luke-Loki gives no sign that my voice pains him in any way. "I put him with Charlene. She will care for him."

Charlene has never indicated a tendency toward cats, so I cross my fingers she and my demon get along.

The relief that my cat is okay allows me to now experience concern over my own well-being. I appear to be in some kind of suit bedroom, or at least, a very well-appointed apartment bedroom. Scanning my gaze throughout the room, I note the small scattering of personal belongings-books, rumpled clothes, papers, and leaky fountain pens. This can't seriously be Luke's room-he's much too neat. But, given the way he is currently lounging on one of the over-stuffed armchairs, I doubt my own conclusion.

Shivering, I press closer to the wall. I twist my ring, as I am apt to do in times of stress. The eye winks at me. Reassurance. Loki's gaze sweeps me before settling on my eyes. A long moment passes as he examines whatever it is he finds in there.

"Tea, I think," he says in the softest of voices. "And something to settle your stomach. Now, come sit."

He has indicated the bed. I lurch forward.

"Don't faint or sick on me, girl," he warns.

I sit. When the back of my knees hit the bed, a vibrant purple throw appears around my shoulders, swaddling me. I pull the velvet closer. Loki looks me over once more before leaving the bedroom, satisfied. When he returns several minutes later, it is with tray in hand, bearing a silver teapot and small bowl. The bowl is a creamy sort of soup, the tea steaming, smelling of cloves and oranges. When I don't make for the food right away, the god glares in his "come-now-Tatiana" sort of way, and I spoon myself a few slurps.

When I've eaten enough to suit him, and adequately drunk, Loki relaxes. "I'm not sure how often humans need nourishment," he tells me. "But you looked famished."

I had been hungry. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." His eyes flit over my form. I look back, uncertain. My hand automatically goes to the ring, hidden in the folds of the blanket. I think it concealed, but his eyes automatically zero in on my movement. Nothing, it appears, is hidden to a god's eyes.

"You wear it," he observes. "Often."

It's not a question. I twist the jewelry. Loki barely suppresses a smile. For some reason, he is pleased.

"You like my gift?"

"I…it's not really my style."

"Oh? But it seems you've taken to it. And it to you."

"No," I say firmly. "I don't like bulky things. It's too big for my tastes."

He is impassive, almost-smile sliding from his face. "Yet you wear it."

"Yes," I say, not adding "Because it's all I have left of you." No need to let him know he'd been on my thoughts in the months between us. "Why did you give it to me? Didn't match?" I nod to the pendant nestled against the front of his shirt.

He has forgone the breastplate and heavy leather. For now, the god relaxes in a grey linen shirt and some heavier brown trousers, his boots laced up to his knees. The pendant rests in the v the neckline of his shirt creates, giving me a view of a creamy chest.

Loki snorts. "No. It was not a matter of accessorizing."

But he doesn't go on. I scowl. I am thusly ignored. Typical.

Loki leans back. I move the tray to the bench that foots the end of the bed. I am really tired, but I've no clue if the bed is mine for the taking, or even if I can sleep with the god present. So, I drape myself across the fine green brocade comforter, curling with the purple throw around me. Loki raises a brow. Ignoring him, I cuddle into the fabric.

"I have missed you."

I throw one eye open. Surely I hadn't heard him right. Loki isn't looking at me, but observes the wall as though there is something deeply interesting in the pattern of wallpaper. He speaks again, repeating. "I have missed you, Tatiana."

At that, I sit up. "I'm sorry, I thought I heard you say-"

He waves me off. "Yes. Yes, I said it."

"Wow." I am impressed. "You missed me."

"Well," he drawls. "Perhaps my heart longed for Winchester just a smidge more, but you know. Details."

I promptly hurl a pillow across the room. To my everlasting glee, it smacks him square in the face. Scowling, Loki moves his fingers in a circular motion, and I find myself bombarded with pillows. Far more pillows than had initially been on the bed, too. He's probably robbed the house of all the other pillows in residence. I shriek with laughter. Loki smirks as the squares of stuffing bounce to hit me. I toss as many as I can toward him, most of them being deflected lazily to come right back and smack me in the face. Or, on occasion, on the bum. I whip round, scandalized. The prince shakes with silent laughter, his eyes glittering. I pounce upon him, pillow in hand to knock the stuffing out of him. Somehow I manage to launch myself onto his lap, straddling the chair to strike him in the face mercilessly. His hair gets severely mussed, but he's laughing, peals of rich chortle filling the room.

Gradually, our fun ends. The plethora of pillows disappears. Loki leads me to bed, sternly telling me I need rest. I find myself dressed, quite suddenly in some sort of satin, overlayed with lawn. It's an agonizing scrap of clothing. I glare, loathing the flimsy thing, but he ignores me.

"Am I sleeping in here?" I ask. "This looks like your room."

"You're sleeping here," he grounds out. How easily I frustrate him. "No mind whose room it is. To bed."

Like a sullen child, I climb into the massive thing, throwing back the layers, and sinking into the depths. It doesn't take me long to settle.

-XXX-

I wake briefly, later on in the evening. A new weigh as been introduced to the mattress. I roll, my nose hitting warm flesh. In the darkness, there is a sigh, then a shifting feeling against the bed. A hand snakes beneath the covers to find my waist, spidery fingers spreading against my stomach. The scent of pine and rain greets me. Loki. Uncertain, I stay frozen. But he doesn't make a single noise, and moves no more. His breath evens out, deepens as he sinks into sleep.

Several awkward minutes pass before I give up and fall asleep too.

-XXX-

We gots some fluff up in here! *party dance* Sorry...I couldn't resist. It just came forth from my fingers, and I went with it.

Has anyone noticed there is a lot of sleeping going on in this story? Like, legit REMs and snoring, etc? No one has passed out yet, too much...yet another trend of mine I'm seeking to finish.

Big thanks to all of my consistant readers and reviewers. You're the fuel to my creative fires (that's a little cliche), and I am so honored and grateful you've taken the time to encourage little ol' me. Hopefully I am not disappointing you.

Reviews! Please!