Author's note: Apologies for the delay in updating. I've been sans internet connection for a couple of weeks, which has been horribly, horribly frustrating. On the other hand, I got more writing done, so expect another chapter shortly to make up for my absence. :)

Disclaimer: Loki is, sadly, not mine. This incarnation of him sort of is, but also owes a lot to interviews I've seen with Tom Hiddleston talking about his thoughts on the depth of the character.


Shopping was proving to be entertaining for Loki. Not so much for the choosing of clothes - that part was quite frustrating - but for watching the reactions of his companions. They all offered up suggestions for him to review, and the differences in their styles intrigued him.

Greg tended to favour loose, casual clothing and pointed out that "comfort was way more important than fashion". Liz's suggestions were quite flamboyant and brightly coloured, because "bright colours are cheery and make a statement". Privately, he agreed with that fact but wasn't sure it was a statement he wanted to make. Grainne was inclined towards more subdued clothing with an understated elegance, and when asked for her reasons merely shrugged and said, "I think it would look good on you. Not an altruistic reason in the slightest, I'm afraid." He couldn't help laughing at that.

For himself, he found his preferences seemed to be for dark colours - looking down at the armful of clothing he'd selected they mostly seemed to be black or dark green. He wondered at this. Was it something from the past he didn't remember showing through? Or was it just chance, since he'd also struggled to find fabrics that didn't feel strange and uncomfortable to him? He shook his head with a sigh as he shut himself into the changing room and dumped everything on a chair. He suspected that this was going to be a tedious task.

Fifteen minutes later he had a small selection of shirts and trousers set aside and was looking in confusion at a particularly lurid purple shirt that had been in the middle of the bundle. Surely he hadn't deliberately picked up something so... ugly? Suspicion dawned and he opened the door to look across at the three people sprawled on the nearby couch. Holding up the shirt, he raised one eyebrow. "Really?"

The two girls exchanged sidelong glances and burst out laughing. Loki tried to keep his expression stern, but he could feel the smile tugging at his lips. Greg grinned at him. "From that reaction, I'm guessing not," he said with a chuckle.

Grainne struggled to sit up. "We were just curious, that's all," she explained, her voice catching as she tried to control her giggles.

"What it looked like?"

"No, what you'd do. Feel free to ignore the dreadful thing." Her eyes flicked over him from head to toe and she added, "Also feel free to keep wandering around without any of the shirts."

Loki looked down and remembered that he had, in fact, been in the middle of changing when he found the unexpected shirt. Cheeks warming, he hastily shut the door to the sound of renewed laughter and leaned against it. Amusement and embarrassment fought a brief war within him before amusement won. There had been no malice in the laughter, and he had to admit that he wasn't entirely displeased that they'd played a harmless joke on him. Having seen the way they joked and teased each other, it was as if they were saying he was one of them, not just someone tagging along because he had nowhere else to go. It was a good feeling. And, of course, it gave him license to return the favour at some point. He grinned to himself as he put the horrible shirt aside and returned his attention to the pile of clothing.

~ 0 ~ O ~ 0 ~ O ~ 0 ~ O ~ 0 ~

They were across the border into Scotland now, apparently. Loki had accepted this information with a silent nod and privately wished he knew if it meant anything to him beyond a simple fact. Still, the trip had been entertaining. His three companions had serenaded him for much of the way, sometimes along with whatever was playing on the radio and sometimes turning the radio off to sing songs of their own devising. They sounded good together and he found himself looking forward to hearing a full performance that night.

At the moment the radio was off and the car was quiet as Grainne spoke on the phone to the hotel they were booked into. "... Yes, I was wondering if it would be possible to get a second single room for tonight? We have a friend traveling with us now. ... Oh, I see." She pulled a face and he realised he was holding his breath.

Greg caught his eye in the rear-view mirror. "Don't worry, mate," he said softly. "If they can't put you up, we'll find you somewhere nearby." Loki smiled gratefully at him, then returned his attention to the one-sided conversation beside him.

"... Well, maybe. Can you hold on one moment, please? I'll check." She lowered the phone and looked at him with a curious hesitation. "He said they don't have any free singles, but they can change my room to a twin share. That's two single beds," she added, seeing the confusion on his face. "So what do you think? Roommates?"

That explained the hesitation, he thought. Sure, he'd already shared a room with them, but that had been a communal room. This was a whole different level of trust. The thought buoyed him and he smiled. "Roommates sounds good," he replied. "And thank you. Again."

Grainne returned the smile and lifted the phone to confirm the change in booking. Settling back in his seat, Loki met Greg's eyes in the mirror once more. They held a silent warning this time, and he nodded slowly in acknowledgement. He obviously wasn't the only one to have recognised the level of trust being extended to him. It wasn't something he intended to abuse, however. They had bought him clothes, food and accommodation, and were giving him companionship and security and understanding. In return, he was contributing... what? Not a lot. Assistance loading and unloading the car, which they'd obviously been managing just fine before he joined them. A new audience for their songs and stories? It hardly seemed a fair trade.

He had, when it came right down to it, nothing. No memories, no resources, nothing. The last thing he was going to do was risk offending the one thing he did have: friends.