A/N: BoundaryBreaker, here's more Greg McAllister and OC awkwardness for you!

8

"Give me your hand."
"What?"
"It's more convincing!"
I felt Loki's hand take hold of mine.
"Remember not to speak too much," The God of Lies began tutoring me. "I don't see why the man deserves any explanations or civil treatment, in my own opinion, but for this to work, we have to act the part."
"Of course."
"You first - oh hang on," he paused to tousle my hair until it was unbelievably messy. And I had spent time combing it out. Great.
"What's that for?"
Loki only gave me a knowing grin and pulled open the bedroom door. Oh.

"Goodmorning!" I called in an uncharacteristically sunshiney voice.
My father, who was wide awake, reading an old magazine turned around in irritation to find me and Loki, still dressed in our night clothes, standing at the door.
"Have a nice night?" Loki asked rather sweetly.
Greg McAllister answered in grunts, and grunts only unless he had a point to make.
"Well it's just about nine o'clock so-"
"What, no breakfast?"
I cleared my throat, "What'll you have?"
"Bacon, eggs, toast and coffee."
"Certainly," I said moving to the kitchen then freezing. "Oh shoot, I'm going to have to go buy some eggs."
"I can go," Loki offered helpfully.
"Oh, no don't be silly," I tapped his chest and laughed. "I'll only be a minute. Why don't you two sit down and talk for a while?"
I don't think either of us had quite scripted what came next but the flow of the situation called for it.
"See you in a while," I grinned at Loki, standing on my toes, and then kissed him.
If he was startled he didn't show it. He simply leaned his head to one side. I quickly pulled away, flushing almost as red as a cherry and hurried across the room.
As I was pulling my keys from the counter and heading to the door, I heard Loki ask my father in 'broken English':
"You like sports, Mr McAllister? I have better magazine in bathroom, one moment!"

I raced around the house to the back (where the Chitauri were still asleep apparently) just in time to see the bathroom window go up. Loki stuck his head out.

"I'm sorry about the-" I winced.
"No it's-"
"Look the part and all that sort of thing," I rambled.
"Well, I certainly can't say you're the worst pupil I've had," Loki considered.
"Where do I wait?"
"Drive the car down the road and come back here," he instructed. "Can you get on the roof?"
"There's a ladder just to the side of the house."
"Then get on the roof and don't come down till you see him run."
"Loki, are you-"
"No, I promise I won't hurt him."
"Yeah, I'd much rather the privilege was mine," I said sourly. Then I looked up at him just before leaving, "Thank you."

The plan was simple. To dig up a chunk of Greg McAllister's past and thrust it at him when he had his guard down. A staged burglary and shooting. Just violent enough to leave a nasty shock imprinted on his brain and sending running for cover. The plan had been cooked up in the wee hours of the morning as we sat on the steps behind the house. Loki had been telling me about the Chitauri, about his grand plans - the takeover of Asgard. I had given up trying to talk him out of it. And they way he said it always made perfect sense. Why shouldn't he? I might have done the same in his place. I might have done worse. Somewhere between him smashing into the hood of my truck and my dad showing up at my door, the morals I was taught crumbled under the weight of the morals I reshaped for myself. And then I had said something in passing.

"I'd send him away if I could."
"So why don't you?"
"I lack the means."
"Do you?"

And that was that, the trap was laid, the strings were hung.

I started the engine again and drove down a few houses then parked behind a clump of trees before racing back, along the edge of the forest. There was my little cottage, silent still. I could see Loki and my father moving around in it. Moving? Who knew so much activity was needed for reading a Sports Illustrated. I watched through the window. There were chaotic motions; arms flailing, bodies running. And there was definitely a third man with them.

I saw my father backing away, bumping into the island; through another window, a thin wiry haired man with a narrow forehead and pig-like nose was advancing on him. He had a gun raised to my father. This man was Avery Addison, an old associate of my father's company. He had been caught embezzling from the company and Greg McAllister had flared up. I remembered the whole thing very vaguely - threatening calls in the night, cars coming by our house, my dad being more bitter than usual, even to Olivia. I was only nine then. But it had caused quite a stir in his life. He had vowed to have Addison behind bars. And he had nearly managed it, before the man escaped - fled town and simply went off radar. Every now and then we'd get a threatening call to the house, but in ten years Greg McAllistor had not heard a peep out of his former associate. Till now. I watched as it all unfolded in front of me. And then, I saw Loki jumping in between them, his arms outstretched, pleading with Addison. I heard a shot and watching in horror as Loki's bod convulsed and fell out of sight. I almost raced to the living room, but remembered my instructions.

Get on the roof.

I began climbing the ladder, trying not to think of Loki dying. Suddenly that became my paramount fear. When I was scrambling over the tiles, I got to the little stub where a chimney was supposed to be. I could hear everything, muffled, but I could hear it.

"You said you'd do me in the next time you see me, Greg." I heard Addison.
"This is not how it should go down."
"Did you think I wouldn't find you?"
"This isn't my house!"
"No, your daughter's. But there's nowhere you can hide, Greg. Mark me."
"Please, Avery. I'm begging you!"
"Ha! I should waste you like I wasted him."
"This is between you and me."
"Well, shit. Looks like the blood's on your hands."
Just then, the front door opened. I heard myself come in with a carton of eggs.
"I'm back!"
It was odd, so odd, to think of myself dropping the eggs, dodging a bullet and then hurling myself into the gunman, but that was undoubtedly what was happening. I heard the front door being flung open and saw Greg McAllistor tearing down the street. Whatever enchantment Loki had put on the house, it was quite soundproof to any of the neighbours and no one heard the gunshot that sent my magic doppelganger to the floor. If anyone did see my father thundering down the street, they might have labelled him half-mad. And if he did go to the police, forensics would show quite an alarming amount of tryptamines in his blood stream (something Loki confessed to have artfully slipped into his dinner the night before).

I clambered down the ladder, (still no sign of life from the Chitauri spacecraft) making my way to the back door and pushed it open, convinced Greg McAllister was bound for South Dutton by now.
"Peachy," I said, taking stock of my own dead form sprawled on the living room floor. Blood was pooling about me and my glassy eyes stared upward.
I bent over Loki's collapsed and bloodied form.
"I don't often say this to you, so listen closely," I said, "that was simply brilliant."
Loki looked up and me, beaming, wiping the blood from his chin and eyes, "I'd say so myself."
I helped him up and he snapped his fingers, clearing every trace of the incident, should the police choose to visit after all.