Pink and gold specks of light dance across freshly fallen snow, the nearly asleep sun shimmering through the frost covered trees. Everything sparkles under the calm light, and Loki slowly inhales the serenity of his surroundings. The oxygen coming in through his nose burns lightly at the back of his throat, and he relishes the feeling for a moment before letting the breath back out through his mouth, the brisk air fogging before his eyes in contrast to his warm exhale. The mist fades into the soft hugh of the sky, joining the calm breeze as it sweeps cautiously through the limbs of the live oaks. The wind hums as it gently brushes his hair aside, imitating motherly fingers in the way it strokes his face and hands. The rarest of smiles curls the corners of his lips, and he takes another cool breath, his chest expanding with the fresh oxygen.
He releases his breath once more, and the mist disperses like tendrils of steam from a hot cup of tea, the light haze clearing from his vision to replenish the image before him. The lake lies still, the body of water slumbering soundly beneath the frozen blanket of shimmering crystals above it. The thick sheet of ice is a flaming reflection of the sky, blazing with the intense pastels from the sun, and mirroring the black tips of the weather-worn trees. On the east side of the lake, pinpricks of fire twinkle against the nightly shades of blue, the small sparks multiplying across the ice as time passes. The colors begin to sink between the compacted crystals as the sun's consciousness drifts, the dark blue of the sky taking over the reflective surface like ink consuming a page, the faint light of the stars above mingling with the sudden flecks of red, gold, and green.
He shifts his gaze upward, following the glowing reflections to their owners with his eyes. Strands of merrily lit glass fireflies skitter around the dock before him, along with the porch and roof of the cabin further back from the pier. The tiny insects taint the snow and ice with their luminance, the colors mingling with each other like dye upon the white snow, and he can't help but linger on the sight. All the colors, and all the ways they appear, he thinks he's never seen something so … wondrous coming from something made with the hands of a man. Everything looks surreal, so dream-like, something he never would have expected from Midgard. Yet here he is, sitting amongst the glittering trees and snow as he breathes it all in.
A bar of yellow light stretches toward him, and he watches silently as two silhouettes appear on the porch of the cabin, their small forms casting long, thin shadows across the lawn. Laughter drifts to where he's perched, the wind carrying the melodic sound, and he gazes across the lake wistfully as the children shut the door, then race into the glittering powder. Memories of his own childhood overlap with reality, and he and his brother replace the young boy and girl, if only for a moment. Images of past excursions paint his thoughts, and a small, sad smile curves his lips, knowing he could only return to those moments in his dreams.
He watches the pair until confusion seizes his mind at their minimal movements, their bodies and heads turning as though they were searching for something. He raises an eyebrow in question, quietly pondering what they're doing until an innocent voice calls out, followed by another. "Loki?" The voices ring across the lake, and he blinks in surprise, both his eyebrows slightly raising. They're looking for him? The thought is jarring, and he blinks twice more, but the scene before him stays the same.
"Loki!" The children call again, and he is oddly not bothered by the way their voices cut through the silence. He moves without a noise, uncurling his legs as he presses his hands into the snow to push himself to his full height. His feet sink into the powder upon standing, yet his steps are still quiet as a mouse when he starts making his way around the shimmering body of water. His clothes are damp from sitting outside for so long, and they rub uncomfortably against his cold skin with every movement, though he can't find it within himself to mind.
He stops right before the tree-line, taking a moment to inhale another long breath. The oxygen's just as burning as before, and he relishes it just as much as the last. He lets his eyes close against the sights and colors, permitting himself to a final few seconds of respite before stepping into the open. The wind card's its cool fingers through his hair once more, and he exhales softly, the now familiar steam appearing like it had earlier, curling around his face before dissipating. He's calmer than he's been in years, and the feeling is so new, so refreshing. He feels like he's breathing for the first time since before he and his brother went to Jotunheim, since before he fell off the Bifrost and Thanos found him, and it feels good. Years he's gone without air, and it feels good to have the sensation of his chest expanding with pure oxygen. Not the filtered air for space travel, or the thin wisps that manage to slip in passed constant fear or anger, but fresh, unadulterated oxygen.
"Loki?" The young ones ask for his attention once more, their tones growing more discouraged, and he opens his eyes. He steps out from the protection of the trees, then buries his hands into his coat pockets in an open show of tranquility. The eldest notices him first, and the wavy haired boy beams at him before guiding the attention of the little girl at his side towards him.
"You wish for my attention?" He tilts his head at the brunettes, a soft smirk playing at the corners of his lips. The children's faces brighten with joy like the multicolored lights above, the girl bouncing happily as she clutches the boy's hand, and the boy seems content in letting her jostle his arm.
"Me n'Petey wanted to ask you if y'wanna help make chrimas cookies," the toddler says excitedly, the widest smile he's ever seen spread across her small face. He can't help his lips twitching up a little further as he approaches the pair, his defenses seeming to lower in the face of these innocent … no, these caring and forgiving children. They have seen too much to be fully innocent, but they are still naive enough to trust. He would honestly rather them hate him, but he'd be lying if he said the attention of these youths was unwanted.
He slowly lowers himself into a crouch before the girl, and he feels something within his chest tighten at the wide, unsuspicious irises that stare up at him, So full of trust, and he sees it in the boy's face as well. Warmth envelopes his heart, and he's speaking before he has a mind to do so. "Oh, is that right?" He asks, and the softness of his voice nearly startles him, having not intended it. The children's smiles only seem to widen, and he fears their faces will split in two.
"Yeah!" The toddler nods vigorously. "It's gonna be so fun, and mommy even got chocate chips!" She squeals, and the boy chuckles fondly from beside her.
"That's the best part, isn't it, Mo?" The teenager asks her, and she nods again, more violent than the last bout.
"They're so good!" She exclaims before turning to him with hopeful eyes, and he suddenly knows that whatever comes out of her mouth will ceil his fate. "Will you pease make cookies with us? Pretty pease with a cherry on top?" She requests sweetly, batting her dark eyelashes at him.
"Damn," he thinks, a chuckle slipping past his lips. "Just like her father."
He eyes her for a moment, feigning consideration as he rests his elbows on his knees, then presses his fingertips together. "Hmm, I suppose that's a task I could lend a hand in," he relinquishes, but continues before either child can speak. "But what do I get in return?" He raises an eyebrow, and hides his mirth at the twin expressions of confusion on the children's faces. He, in reality, doesn't want any form of reward from them, baking is a chore he'd accept any day without payment, you could say it's one of his hobbies. It's been a pastime of his since he was little, having learned it from his mother first hand, but he wouldn't be Loki without causing some form of struggle.
"Uh," the boy intones uncertainly, his posture growing stiff with what looks like discomfort. The girl looks up at the boy, a similar uncertain expression on her profile before she turns back to him, her eyebrows scrunched in thought.
"Um … a hug?" She spreads her arms out in demonstration, and he snorts, his lips curving back into a smirk.
"You are going to have to try harder than that, child," he says, a small amount of humor seeping into his tone.
"A … a cookie?" She asks hesitantly, wringing her impossibly tiny hands together as she peers up at him, her eyes resembling a small dog, or, what the earthlings like to call a puppy.
"The very sweets I will be making?" He scoffs lightly, narrowing his eyes as playfully as he can manage. "I will not accept my own labor as payment." He tilts his chin up defiantly, and the girl sighs in exasperation, a sound that resembles both her mother and father.
"Then what do you want?" She pouts, folding her pink and purple clad arms across her chest. He lets a triumphant grin spread across his face despite himself, and he hears the teenager stifle a laugh from the side, concealing it with a cough.
"Hey, Maguna, I think he likes reading." The boy glances at him in confirmation, and he can't help but smirk.
"Somebody has been doing their homework," he comments pointedly, and the boy flushes, an awkward smile breaking across his face.
"Well, I I," the teenager flounders, but the toddler's excited voice cuts him off.
"D'you wanna book?" She asks, her bouncing returning, and he huffs.
"Well, the metaphorical cat is out of the bag," he mutters, a sigh passing through his lips that clouds between himself and the children. "I do delight in reading," he admits, and the girl squeals happily.
"So will you help us now?" She asks again, and he lets his expression soften into a smile, the expression still feeling foreign even after a month of use.
"I suppose." He nods, and the toddler lurches forward to grab his arm, nearly sending him falling back into the snow.
"Easy, Mo," the boy chuckles as he rights himself, standing from his crouched position to follow behind the girl.
"C'mon, Petey!" The toddler only responds with, and he watches fondly as the boy hurries to catch up, leaving hasty footprints in the sparkling powder.
They make their way up the porch steps, then pass between support beams wrapped in the glimmering fireflies. Their light dances across his and the children's bodies, and he gazes around the deck, taking in all the festive adornments. The lights, the holly, and the wreath on the front door. It smells earthy, and that same wave of calm flows over him, loosening the mussels in his shoulders. He lets his eyes flutter close, and pauses in the center of the porch as he listens to the little girl run inside, her little feet treading quickly, yet quietly towards the kitchen.
A hand tentatively lands on his bicep, and he opens his eyes, shifting his gaze towards the boy. The teenager hesitates briefly, but speaks after a moment. "Are … are you alright, Mr. Loki?" He asks, and that rush of warmth returns to his chest, along with the tight resistance. He doesn't deserve this child's trust and care, he's done nothing to warrant it. It's unfathomable why this boy cares, but he, slightly frustratingly, can't find it in himself to question it, especially not now amidst the peaceful atmosphere.
He stares at the boy for a second before reaching up slowly, placing his hand over the child's where it rests on his arm. "Yes." He nods. "I am alright, Young Peter," he says, and he finds he means it a lot more than he thought he did.
The boy smiles, and his lips quirk up in response, letting his emotions take over for a moment. He removes his hand from the teenagers, and uses the other to clasp around the boy's shoulder. He gives the child a light shove towards the door, and follows him inside the warmly lit cabin where the Avengers and his brother talk and laugh. He shuts the door behind himself, and he's never felt so comfortable walking into a room, so welcome. He relishes this feeling like the crisp air, and he doesn't fight it when Thor greets him with a hug.
He's getting better, and as much as it is aggravating to watch his defenses crumble, it's also relieving. He's never felt so safe, so wanted, and he … he thinks he likes it. Maybe this will give him a fresh start at life, even if it's just within a small group. Baby steps, he believes is the term Midgard uses.
….
A/N: Merry Christmas Eve everybody! I hope everyone has been safe this holiday season, and I hope you all have a joyful, and magical Christmas/Hanukkah/or whatever holiday you celebrate this time of year.
I hope this story gave you all some form of happiness or comfort. I tried not to make Loki OOC, but it's kind of hard when my brain's stuck on the version of Loki from the show, lol. I hope you all understand my struggles in some way, but if you don't that's okay too :-)
Drop a review/request.
Until next time.