Written to: Sleeping In - The Postal Service, crosspost from AO3
Nelipot: One who walks barefoot.
"I don't think he's supposed to be doing that," Darcy says, looking at Modi at his position approximately three feet above the ground. Modi giggles at the confused expression on her face, claps his hands in delight and sends a shower of sparks onto the tile floor of the hotel bathroom. "Is he supposed to be doing that?" she asks Helblindi, who eyes his nephew carefully and tells her that no, he most definitely is not supposed to be doing that. Babies are not supposed to levitate, especially not before they can walk, he tells her nonchalantly, and this new information only sends Darcy even further into a panicked frenzy.
"What should we do?" Darcy asks frantically, even though the ground beneath the baby is covered in a thick layer of towels and blankets and pillows. "Who are we supposed to call about this sort of thing happening?"
"I suppose you could always call Loki," Helblindi points out, stating the obvious.
"And then what am I supposed to tell him?" she says, "Oh excuse me, Loki, hello, how are you, sorry I woke you up but your son is floating and I can't get him to stop."
"...That's exactly what you should tell him."
Darcy throws her hands up in exasperation; Modi imitates her, sending a spark of seidr up to the fluorescent lights on the ceiling and causing them to turn into ultraviolet lamps. The fluffy white towels light up brilliantly neon under the black light, and, much to Darcy's horror, there are several speckles on the floor that also light up rather too brightly.
"You're no help at all," she hisses at Helblindi as she bundles Modi up in a towel and tugging the floating baby behind her as she marches out of the bathroom.
"Hello?" Loki's voice is sleepy, cracking at the corners, and Darcy really would like to apologise but there are more pressing concerns right now.
"Excuse me, Loki, hi, um, sorry I woke you up but your son is floating and he won't listen to reason."
"I beg your pardon?"
From over the telephone, Darcy can hear the sleepy grunts as Thor wakes up and brings himself to consciousness.
"Hi, Thor," she says. "Your son is floating. I've tried to bribe him, with mashed potatoes, with a rattle, and - Oh my God, Helblindi, don't open the window for God's sake!" she snaps, grasping hold of a corner of the towel Modi is wrapped in. Modi is making motions that Darcy recognises as an attempt at swimming. "If he gets out the window, I won't be able to get him back, and then we'll really be screwed."
Helblindi, completely unapologetic, stands by the window and wonders how Los Angeles can still be so bloody hot, even at night.
"You like to fly, do you, small one?" Thor asks his son as Loki comes back into the hotel bedroom, toweling off his damp hair, his bare feet leaving long, rapidly fading footprints into the thick carpet. Modi is tethered to Mjolnir (who Thor had asked to calmly enter through the hotel window - unfortunately, Mjolnir's definition of 'calm' also somehow managed to involve demolishing half of the Avengers tower on her way out, much to Tony's horror), and is bobbing up and down like a balloon.
"You gave Darcy quite the scare," Loki says, climbing onto the bed and pressing his chilled feet into the tangle of Thor's legs.
Thor absentmindedly sits up, reaches down, takes the heel of one of Loki's feet into his hands, warming the cold skin with his fingers.
"But," Loki says, and Modi looks at him, "you must learn to walk, okay, love? It really will not do to have you floating yourself everywhere. You understand?"
Modi babbles at him questioningly, pointing towards the hotel windows, and Loki sighs in exasperation.
"And no, you are far too young to go out by yourself," Loki says with an air of finality, and Thor can swear that he is looking into a set of infinite mirrors as Modi pouts, looking exactly like Loki.
Thor wakes up in the early pre-dawn light to find Modi snuggled in between himself and Loki, curled up in a warm hollow between their bodies. One little arm is resting on Thor's chest, the little ribbon still tied to Mjolnir, who lies on her side on the floor.
Thor smiles, winces as Modi kicks him straight in the ribs in his sleep, catches a little foot in one of his hands and marvelling at the small heel cradled in his palms.