I love this chapter. I hope you do too.
Brother bought a coconut, he bought it for a dime
His sister had another one, she paid it for a lime
She put the lime in the coconut, she drank them both up
She put the lime in the coconut, she drank them both up
Later that evening, when night had fallen and brilliant stars glittered overhead, Loki and Reagan had made their way into the kitchen that doubled as a greenhouse filled with strange Asgardian evergreen species. Peace and forgiveness had well and truly been established between the pair beyond a shadow of a doubt through sultry escapades carried out on the tiled floor of the castle's entryway beneath a glittering twenty foot tall Christmas tree.
They were now dressed in silken clothes Loki had conjured for them, diverging for just one night in the spirit of the mortal holiday, away from Loki's preferred colour palette. Instead, tonight their fabrics were a deep, rich burgundy, with subtle gold trimmings. The garments were a far cry from the ugly Christmas sweaters Reagan had originally hoped to persuade Loki into that evening, but he was making such an effort to make the evening special, and so the last thing Reagan was going to do was complain about the rich Bordeaux-coloured silken tunic he now wore for her, especially when it revealed that sinful sliver of his sculpted chest each time he moved a certain way.
Nor did she protest just how short a nightgown he'd clad her in, not after the way she'd caught him eyeing her in it.
After fully reconciling, Reagan had insisted that Loki had done enough - that the lavish decorations and breathtaking tree were far grander a gesture than she'd ever imagined or expected from him, and that he'd well and truly done enough to make the evening magical. But Loki had insisted, reminding her that he was well aware the significance Christmas dinner had held to her before her mother had passed. It seemed he would not be deterred. And so, Reagan had allowed the God of Mischief to take her by the hand and guide her into the kitchen where he set to work preparing a meal for them which was sure to be infinitely more exquisite than any tinned cranberry sauce she and her mother had ever managed to produce, even including the years they'd opted for the premium brand.
Reagan had offered her assistance in the meal preparation, which Loki had very politely declined - much to her amusement. They were both painfully aware that cooking was far from her forte.
So instead of brandishing a knife or a whisk and holding the kitchen hostage to her whims, Reagan poured them each an indulgent helping of honey flavoured liquor, and came to lean against the countertop, watching as Loki prepped the ingredients for their meal with expert precision.
"Doctor, ain't there nothin' I can take?"
I said, "Doctor, to relieve this bellyache?"
I said, "Doctor, ain't there nothin' I can take?"
I said, "Doctor, to relieve this bellyache?"
The sole tragedy of evening turned out to be that neither of them had managed in their respective missions to bring Christmas to Asgard, to collect any Christmas carols. Loki had looked crestfallen when Reagan had broken the news to him; having previously informed him that they were an integral aspect of the holiday.
"Not even the one that starts with a threat?" Loki asked, deflating slightly. "I was rather looking forward to hearing that one."
"It doesn't start with a threat, Loki," Reagan laughed.
His features turned incredulous.
"'You better watch out' is indisputably a threat, my love. Take it from someone who has delivered thousands of them with genuine exultance."
Fortunately - or perhaps, unfortunately - for them, amongst the strange assortment of earthly objects Skurge had hauled back to Asgard was an old CD player and an interesting selection of CDs to go with it. One of which was the soundtrack to the 1998 film, Practical Magic. Reagan confidently assured Loki that this movie was nothing short of a masterpiece, and so the soundtrack was sure to be just as good as - if not better than - any collection of Christmas carols. Threats or no.
This meant that Loki was currently enduring his introduction to Coconut by Harry Nilsson, rather than Santa Claus is Coming to Town or Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. It was painfully obvious from his poorly concealed eye twitch that he considered it a less than stellar experience.
So maybe it wasn't to be a night of truly traditional Christmas festivities, but then, there had never exactly been anything traditional about her and Loki.
You put the lime in the coconut, you drink 'em both together!
You put the lime in the coconut, then you'll feel better!
As the tempo of the song escalated and the singer became increasingly unhinged, Loki exasperatedly placed his knife down hard beside the cutting board, unable to bear it any longer, and pinned Reagan with an annoyed glare.
"You can't honestly tell me you enjoy this song," he said at last.
"I love this song," she insisted, unphased, as she sipped from her drink.
Loki sneered.
"I thought you had good taste," he muttered, returning to the task before him.
"Where'd you get that idea?"
An arrogant smirk graced his features, and he gave a modest shrug, somehow pulling off the combination.
"Well, I've noticed you're rather taken with me."
"Yeah exactly," Reagan giggled as she casually popped a grape into her mouth.
Even the sharp look he attempted to throw at her was filled with affection.
She shifted her weight then to lift herself up to sit on the kitchen counter top beside him. It was something Loki had been thoroughly scandalised by the first time she'd done it.
"Your rear end does not belong where we prepare our meals, Reagan."
Reagan had just rolled her eyes, knowing full well Loki would happily devour a meal off her "rear end" if she suggested it. She was pleased to find that it hadn't quite come to that once Loki discovered exactly how comfortably he could slot himself between her thighs when she'd sneak her way up onto the counter like that.
He moved to do exactly that as she reached for him. It seldom took much convincing to coax him closer to her.
"You know you'll ruin your appetite if you keep grazing on those grapes," he pointed out, running his hands up her thighs.
Reagan just smiled and plucked up another from the bowl beside her, offering it to him. Loki leaned forward and ate the grape from between her fingers catching her thumb between his teeth as he did.
"Don't worry. You're supposed to be way too full after Christmas dinner," Reagan assured him, making no effort to free her thumb from his mouth as he swirled his tongue around it.
"Alright, if you're certain," Loki murmured when he released her digit and replaced it with another grape. "I'd hate to make such an amateur mistake as to oversupply you with snacks and ruin the evening."
Yes, you call me in the morning
You call me in the morning, I'll tell you what to do
If you call me in the morning, I'll tell you what to do
If you call me in the morning, I'll tell you what to do
"You have nothing to worry about," Reagan assured him gently. "You're doing a great job, I promise."
The song at faded away in the background, but Loki didn't seem to notice. Instead, he'd stilled, his eyes snapping to hers.
"A great job," he repeated flatly, his tone indicating she may as well have called their evening a total embarrassment. "And do you have any suggestions as to how I might endeavour to elevate things to a more remarkable status?"
Reagan flushed, panic twisting her gut. The last thing she'd wanted to do was insult him after all the effort he'd gone to for her.
"Wait. Loki, you know I didn't mean-"
But Loki only leaned in and kissed her chastely, interrupting her protests. He was smirking at her when he pulled away, tilting his head to survey her.
"Indulge me," he insisted, his voice tinged with amusement, and Reagan breathed a small, embarrassed sort of laugh.
Loki's hands were braced on the benchtop on either side of her parted thighs between which he'd comfortably situated himself. He leaned in close to her to press his lips to her clavicle.
"Loki... it really is perfect," Reagan insisted as she laced her fingers together at the nape of his neck. "I mean, come on. Look at everything you've done for me tonight. Incredible decorations; check. Enormous, beautifully decorated tree; check. Christmas carols; check-"
"I beg to differ."
"We have expensive alcohol, and roaring fires, an incredible meal in the making, not to mention matching pajamas."
Loki smirked, once again raking his eyes down her silk-clad figure.
"Though I have to check just one more time; are you sure there's not any chance I'll be able to convince you to try on the ugly sweater?" Reagan asked hopefully, instantly met by anticipated resistance.
"Unfortunately, that is where I'll have to draw the line," he replied. "And I must point out, it's rather cruel to ask that of me when it would mean depriving me of this sight."
He gestured to her skimpy excuse for a nightgown once more.
"But-"
"At least allow me some time to ease into the concept," Loki beseeched her, grazing his knuckles down the length of her bare arm as he spoke. "Perhaps we could revisit it next year?"
And Reagan couldn't quite stave off the smile that tugged the corner of her mouth. She and Loki had already promised each other forever. All in. The both of them. Yet there was still something about hearing Loki planning for a year in advance with her that had the butterflies in her stomach going absolutely crazy.
"Next year," she conceded. "Oh, and we still have to exchange presents! Or well, at least, I do. You kind of beat me to the chase on that one."
"What do you mean?" he asked, looking perplexed.
"I mean that you literally gave me, like, fifty gifts when we got here tonight, remember?" Reagan said, referring to the very large Midgardian collection still situated in the castle's entryway.
"Those weren't gifts," Loki insisted, he looked annoyed at the very thought. "They were bribes to persuade you to remain in Asgard."
"Maybe so, but I think they still count as gifts."
"No, they don't," he said stubbornly. "You told me that this was the paramount of the tradition. Gift giving at Christmas. And so, the fact that I picked out precisely none of those items aside, there is not a single possession amongst that trash heap that I'd deem worthy of being the first Christmas gift I ever give to you."
"It's not the paramount," she assured him. "The paramount is being with the people you care about most for the holiday."
Loki scoffed.
"Sounds like something poor people tell each other."
"You're right, it is. And pretending we actually believe it is all part of the fun."
Loki only eyed her.
"I'm giving you a gift tonight," he told her adamantly, laying the matter to rest. "The instant I think of one fitting enough for the occasion."
And despite his obvious annoyance, Reagan smiled at him.
"You're such a sweetheart."
"You really must stop calling me that."
"Absolutely not."
Loki shot her one more pointed glare that lacked any real sincerity and Reagan leaned forward to kiss the frown from his lips. It seemed to do the trick.
"Alright," he began again, all the more determined to win her approval. "That monstrous garment aside, is there truly nothing more that I can do to perfect evening?"
Reagan studied him, the eagerness in his gaze, the desire pulsing down the bond to please her, the way he was trying so hard to embrace the spirit of the foreign holiday.
"Okay," Reagan relented, setting down her glass and settling her hands on his shoulders. "If you really want to make it the perfect Christmas, there is one thing I miss."
"Tell me," Loki insisted.
Reagan's heartrate picked up a little. She'd told herself she'd only do this if the opportunity came up authentically - if it felt safe. If the evening was going well.
She knew she'd have to step delicately for the next few minutes.
"It's something my mom made up, the first Christmas we had together after my dad left," Reagan told. "I opened my presents but it just wasn't the same. I wanted him there, you know? And so to try to cheer me up, my mom told me wish for something. Something impossible. A Big Wish. And she said that no matter what it was, she'd make it happen. So I wished that I could live inside a rainbow."
Reagan smiled at the memory.
"We spent the rest of the night watching Christmas movies and eating too much dinner-" Loki smirked along with her, "-and it was fun and in the morning I forgot all about the Big Wish because I was going visit to my grandparents' for a few a days. Loki, when I came back home, she'd- My mom had gone out and bought, like, all the coloured paper in the world. She hand wrapped every item in our house in paper. The lounge, the TV, every last thing in the kitchen. She put it on the walls, she covered the carpet in it. It must have cost her a fortune."
She felt Loki's mind brushing against hers and she let him in, allowed him to watch the memory unfold as a youthful version of herself pushed open the front door to gasp in wonder as she entered their rainbow-wrapped home. And not for the first time, she sensed his regret that he'd never have the opportunity to meet the woman who raised her.
"We did it every Christmas after that," she told him. "A Big Wish every year, until she got sick. One year I wished that I could fly, so she sat down then and there and booked us the cheapest flight with a window seat she could find for the following week. And that's how we discovered I have a huge fear of aeroplanes."
Reagan laughed.
"I probably reshaped the bones in her hand, I clutched onto her so tight as we were taking off. I remember sitting in this metal tube that was somehow impossibly in the air and I was so convinced that we were going to die. The flight attendants found out how petrified I was and they actually alerted the pilot at some point. He came down to talk to me himself, to tell everything was okay. And you should have heard the way I screamed at the poor man because what the hell was he doing out there with the rest of us when he was supposed to be flying that death trap?"
Loki leaned in to press an adoring kiss to her cheek, to her throat, to her shoulder.
Reagan leaned into him and prayed - prayed - that she wasn't about to ruin everything.
"Are you saying, darling, that you'd do me the honour of allowing me to partake in this tradition? You'd allow me to grant you an impossible wish?"
And that's exactly what it was. Her Big Wish. It was so impossible. Because she knew he wouldn't help them for them. Nor would he do it for himself.
But for her.
Maybe... Just maybe, for her he'd say yes. And maybe she could use this as a chance to help him heal that horrible, festering wound she knew he so desperately pretended not to bare deep within the core of him.
Because her wish - her real wish, that she'd tell him some day, when he was ready for the truth of it - was that she wished Loki could love himself.
Reagan, I- if you love me then... it means there must be something good in me. God, the way those words had broken her heart. She determined that day she find a way to stop him from feeling that, to help him unlearn it. Undo the damage done to him by those who were meant to care for him.
"Only if you're willing," she murmured, staring into his eyes.
Her hands were on him. Tender. Supportive. Acting as the anchor he was not yet aware he needed.
"I'm always willing when it comes to you," he replied smoothly.
She offered him a gentle smile.
"It might be difficult."
"I'm not one to shy away from a challenge."
"This one, you might," she whispered.
Loki took hold of her forearm, brought it to his lips and pressed a kiss to the iridescent cuff branded upon her skin.
"Make your impossible wish, mortal."
I love you, she promised along the bond as she steeled herself.
"I wish..." she said cautiously, "I wish things were better for the people in Jotenheim."
Loki's entire body went rigid against her.
And despite the roaring fires, the air suddenly seemed chilled.
Slowly, Loki drew away from her. And though she offered some resistance, when he pulled himself free from her embrace, she let him go.
A painful silence hung in the air between them as Loki turned his back on her.
Reagan waited with baited breath, waited for him to speak, watched the way tension took hold of the muscles in his shoulders.
"What is that supposed to mean?" he asked at last, his tone low and dangerous.
"You told me what happened there," Reagan forced herself to respond. "That night... before you fell. With the Bifrost."
She knew all too well that there was so much pain in him. That he loathed to think about that night. What had happened. What he'd done. What was done to him.
"No, Loki."
Jotunheim.
The Frost Giants. The monsters.
He'd tried to eradicate them, the race he'd come from - he'd tried to erase them from existence. Because maybe if he had, then it would be easier to deny what he was. If he could destroy the monsters, it would make him less of one. But in truth, his actions had only achieved the very opposite. She'd never forgive that awful internalised racism he'd been made to suffer. That he alone was burdened with the blame for what it had resulted in.
"Odin never sent aid for them afterwards," Reagan went on as she watched him. "I know that they were cut off after the Bifrost was destroyed, but even after it was repaired. The Frost Giants have been left in ruin. Their cities are destroyed, their resources are-"
"It's of no concern to us," Loki snapped.
"They're your people, Loki, and-"
"They are not my people," he spat the words, disgusted, as he rounded on the spot to glower at her.
"They are if you're Ruler of the Nine Realms," she shot back stubbornly, not to be deterred by his anger. She knew she had to be careful to maintain an even temper, he needed that from her now.
The malice in his gaze - in his voice - she had known to expect it. Had known it would hurt. But it was was still confronting to see that glimpse of who she'd once thought him to be. But she could ride through it, endure it. Because she knew this anger that he directed her way wasn't really for her.
No, right now, Reagan was a mirror.
"It's the right thing to do," she pressed on gently. "Loki... We have so much here. Asgard has so much. Send help for them... Please?"
Loki clenched his jaw, dropping her gaze. His features were still taught with fury and his hand curled into fists as he fought to keep his temper from exploding. She could feel the way he wanted to keep it at bay. Loki shook his head.
"Why is this so important to you?" he asked impatiently.
"Because you are in a position where you can improve the lives of so many people who are suffering right now. And so you should."
She didn't miss the way Loki sneered a little at the way she referred to the Frost Giants as 'people'.
Reagan slipped down from her spot atop the kitchen counter and approached him cautiously. She watched the way he tensed as she drew closer, but he didn't back away. She ghosted her fingertips over the back of his hand.
"Because it's your sworn duty as King of the Nine Realms is to protect all living beings under your rule."
"I was never sworn in," he quipped, stubbornly, though some of the venom had drained from his voice.
Her heart ached as, slowly, she felt him respond under her touch. With a whisper of hesitance, he laced his fingers through hers.
And with a gentle touch, she caught his jaw in her other hand and drew his gaze back to her.
"Because like it or not, the most important thing that ever happened to me came from that planet. So it does matter."
Loki lowered his gaze once again. He closed his eyes, but he didn't draw away from her touch on his face, rather he seemed to chase the comfort of it.
"And because it's my planet," she added at last, the corner of her mouth quirking just a little then. "And so I intend to make sure it's well cared for. "
Loki looked perplexed for a moment, and glanced at her uncertainly.
"Your planet?" he repeated.
"Yeah. Haven't I told you this story? The rightful King gave it to me after a night of stargazing and showing off his castle."
And almost as if he couldn't resist, Loki quirked an amused brow. "Well, he must have been rather taken with you."
"I like to think so."
"I sincerely doubt that it was a legitimate transfer, though. I don't believe there was a signing of deeds or anything of the sort, were there?"
Reagan merely shrugged.
"He said it was a gift," she said.
"Yes, well, it sounds to me as though he was just making an effort to impress a pretty little mortal who he was beginning to suspect no longer loathed him entirely."
"One might argue that I was in the process of developing a small crush," Reagan conceded.
Finally, a small smile returned to Loki's face.
"Is that right?"
"There was some pretty serious denial going on at that stage too but.. yes, I think that the planet may have really put some cracks in that wall I was trying to put up."
"Ah," nodded sagely. "Suffice to say, this rightful King of yours should probably best to play it safe and allow you to keep said gift?"
"I think so."
Loki ran a tender hand down the length of her arm, not quite meeting her eye as he spoke again.
"And I suspect that if he were to also grant your request... and speak to his advisors about establishing some sort of support initiative for the planets' inhabitants, that might also win him your favour?"
Reagan beamed up at him.
"I think the only thing that could possibly make me happier if he were to do it shirtless."
He breathed out the ghost of a laugh.
"You know, I'm beginning to realise that you actually give rather sage advice. Perhaps I should discuss these matters with you more often."
"Any time, Mischief," she promised, and wrapped her arms around him, tight.
Loki had absolutely no trouble at all admitting that the meal he prepared for them that evening was divine. They spent the hours that followed the discussion in the kitchen nestled side by side at a 40-foot-long dining table. They dined by the light of a fire, and laughed and teased and flirted, their feet playing beneath the table. Their cups were filled with rich, deep coloured wine. They tore into rustic bread and dipped the pieces into oils infused with roasted garlic and herbs. Every bite of meat was succulent and tender, practically melting onto their tongues. There was a creamy butternut squash soup, with just a hint of nutmeg. A medley of winter vegetables, all prepared with a honey glaze, filled the air with a rich aroma. Creamy mashed potatoes. Fresh slices fruits of every variety imaginable. Decadent chocolate cakes that spilled forth a liquid centre as they sunk their spoons into them.
Loki deemed it safe to assume that he'd met Reagan's expectation of being far too full by the time they were done devouring the spread.
The contented smile that had not budged from her face all evening spoke volumes. It filled him with an aching sense of pride.
When the dinner was done, Loki vanished the remaining plates and cutlery, leaving the dining table once again immaculate. He turned to look at her, and found her eyes half-hooded, as if she were nodding off to sleep. He swept his hand gently through her hair.
Reagan rolled her head into his touch, nuzzling against his hand. She opened her eyes, smiled up at him. She reached for his hand then inclined her head.
"Come on," she murmured. "I want to give you your present."
She stood from her chair and Loki followed along, his hand in hers. Reagan lead him closer to the fireplace and lowered herself to sit cross-legged on a rich, pelted rug in front of the hearth. Loki settled himself down opposite her, watching the light of the fire dance over her features.
"Here," with a smile, Reagan handed him a gift, wrapped in simple brown paper and tied with twine. "Merry Christmas."
Loki blinked, slightly surprised. He hadn't seen where she'd produced it from which seemed to delight her. He took the package from her with care, and turned it over in his hands. The package was flat and rectangular, and rather weighty for it's size. A book was Loki's first guess, no doubt one of the many volumes Reagan had droned on about in the earliest stages of their relationship when she was making her best attempt to drive her to insanity.
The very thought of it warmed his chest.
"Sorry I didn't wrap it very well," Reagan commented. "Usually I'm pretty good at gift wrapping but my plans acquire sticky tape and wrapping paper were 'unexpectedly thwarted.' so I had to improvise."
"I don't sound like that."
"You do."
Loki looked back down at the gift in his hands. The crumpled, haphazardly wrapped brown paper. Creased and crooked, and loose in one of the corners. The over excessive use of twine, wrapped almost manically in an attempt to hold the paper in place. The abysmally tied bow, holding the whole mess together.
Loki was sure he'd never seen it's equal.
He almost didn't want to unwrap it.
But when Reagan eagerly encouraged him to do just that, and her excitement bubbled down the link, well, what else was there for him to do but to bend to her will. And so with a secret sort of remorse, Loki pulled the tangled strings loose and unfolded the wrinkled paper.
It wasn't the novel he was anticipating. Instead, Loki pulled back the paper to reveal a worn looking lavender journal. It was a generic, simple looking thing with slightly pixelated image of a vase full of flowers on the cover. The spine was cracked and peeling. The pages were warped by time, and perhaps liquids in some places. They bowed and rippled rather than closing flush against one another.
Carefully, Loki cracked the book open to a random page. The pages were filled with scrawled handwriting he didn't recognise, each entry topped with a date.
His brow furrowed curiously as he picked a random entry and began reading.
September 3rd, 1992
You started school this morning. I managed to make it all the way back to the car before I started crying. You looked so tiny with your backpack on, and held my hand all the way to the classroom. You were so excited. And you asked me if you'd know everything by the time I came back to pick you up. When I broke the news to you that it would take at least a few days to learn everything, you told me that you hoped they taught you space first, so you could build a space ship and go discover a new planet. I have no idea where this fascination with outer space came from, baby, but I hope it grows.
I can't wait to pick you up this afternoon and hear all about your day. I miss you terribly.
Loki's heart clenched as he flicked through the pages to find dozens - maybe when hundreds - of entries.
"What is this?" Loki asked, turning the book over in his hands with such care that he imagined he looked concerned the object would turn to dust at any moment.
She smiled at him.
"My mom made it for me," she said. "She kept it my whole childhood, and wrote down little memories in it any time something happened that she wanted me to remember. She gave it to me on my birthday... I've read it about a thousand times and, well, I thought you might like it."
"Reagan... Darling, I can't take this from you."
"Of course, you can," she said simply. "It's a gift. I'm giving it to you."
"My love-"
Loki tried to hand the journal back to her but her hands settled over his, calmly.
"Listen... we're not going to get to do that 'meet the parents' moment, you know? I'll never be able to invite you round for dinner at mom's where she spends the night telling you embarrassing stories and showing off mortifying photos of me growing up. So this is the closest I can kind of orchestrate to giving you that experience."
And her words elicited an ache deep from within him.
"Even so," his voice was stranded with poorly supressed emotion, "you can't give this to me. It's far too precious."
Reagan raised her eyebrows at him.
"Can I just remind you that you made me shatter your most prized possession not recently just because you were turned on?" she teased. "Loki, really, it's okay. I want you to have it."
"Reagan, I haven't the words to describe what this gesture means to me. No one has ever- Darling, I can't take this from you. It feels like I'm stealing something from you."
He looked at her pleadingly and she studied him with kind eyes. Soon, she pulled herself up to kneel in front of him. Her hands once again settled over his, securing his grasp on the book reassuringly.
"Okay," she conceded, "how about instead we call it an extended loan. My gift is open access to this piece of literature about me, at your disposal. Read through it. Learn about all the highs and lows of my childhood and adolescent years. Get to know my mom a little. Borrow it for as long as you like. I'll still retain ownership of it, but... it will just live with you from now on."
Loki reached for her, cupping her face and coaxing her forward to press his lips to hers.
"I don't deserve you," he murmured when they parted.
"Well, that's pretty unfortunate given that you're stuck with me," she replied, she shifted to sit beside him, wrapping her arm around his and resting her head against his shoulder.
Loki opened the journal once again, pouring over stories written about the other half of him. And Loki read, absorbed in the words written by the only person who might have known Reagan better than he did. The way she wrote, Loki was certain when she was alive she'd possessed wit to rival her daughters' and Loki found himself aching again, mourning a meeting that would never come to pass.
"Oh, look here," Reagan pointed at one page in particular. "This is what she wrote about that first plane trip I was telling you about before."
I shouldn't have laughed, the script read, but the way you were ready to go to war against that poor pilot who was just trying to calm you down. You demanded to see the air marshal. I don't even know how you know what that is. I managed to keep it together through that. But when you tried to stage a citizens arrest, well, I'm only human. I absolutely lost it. And my God, you were furious at me for that. My sweet girl. That flight was worth every penny.
Loki's throat tightened.
This precious gift. A glimpse into a part of her life that Loki would never have otherwise had access to. The fact that she trusted him enough to even read these words; something so intimate and secret and personal.
He stilled as a thought bloomed to life inside him.
"You're afraid of flying..."Loki murmured aloud, his voice distant, still lost in memory.
Beside him, Reagan's brow creased.. She turned to look at him.
"Yeah," she agreed, unsure of what he was implying.
"I knew that."
"Of course, you did," Reagan replied simply, likely referring to the bond.
"No... No, I knew it... before."
"Come again?"
Loki turned to look at her, his gaze scanning over her features afresh. He took her hand in his, kissed her knuckles, before standing and coaxing to her feet along with him. She moved with him willingly.
"I know the gift I want to give you," he told her. "Come with me."
Loki guided Reagan through the castle, with a new
Certainty, he determined at last. That feeling, it certainty.
When they reached his intended destination, Loki slowed to a stop, one hand rested on the door, ready to push it open. He looked over his shoulder at Reagan playfully.
"Now, are you absolutely certain you don't want diamonds?" He clarified once more, the question had been posed at dinner. "Diamonds to decorate your other diamonds; that's what you once said, is it not?"
"I definitely don't want diamonds," Reagan laughed. "Especially when I don't have any diamonds to decorate in the first place."
"All the more reason for me to bestow some upon you."
"Loki..."
"No diamonds," he relented gently. "But I do hope this measures up, in their place."
Loki pushed open the door to reveal his art room. Reagan had been inside it only once before. A time when she'd journeyed to the castle alone, Loki still locked inside his cell, while a horrible yearning was beginning to awaken within him to be closer to her. So much closer to her.
She'd come into this very room. Studied his paintings. Admired them, he'd allowed himself to believe. Until she'd found one particular painting, one that he'd thought he'd hidden away where no one would ever see it - a rendering of a girl made of fire. She'd known it was her, there'd been no point denying it. And so Loki had told her that magic bred premonitions, that she was an a vague image he'd remembered from a dream, nothing more. It had been partly true.
She had been a premonition.
And he'd seen her in his dreams.
But the truth was, he'd known exactly who she was, thanks to a cursed crystal ball he'd gazed into during his youth.
And what's more was the other premonitions that had followed. He hadn't told her about those yet.
But she'd once come close to learning the truth. In this very room. When she'd reached for a small and unassuming leatherbound journal rested on his work bench.
He reached for exactly that right now. Loki ran his hand almost reverently over the the leather cover, it had been a long time since he'd allowed himself to peer inside it. It only really ever happened in his weakest of moments. He turned, journal in hand, to face Reagan.
Her eyes lit up at the sight of it.
"No way," she breathed. "Am I finally about to gaze upon the pages of that illusive, non-existent diary of yours?" she teased.
Loki smiled softly at her but didn't return the quip.
Instead, he moved towards her, and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.
"Merry Christmas, my love," he murmured against her skin, before drawing back and placing the journal in her hands.
And just because he was so painfully, painfully weak and he couldn't bare not to know how she truly felt about what she was about to see, Loki delved into the bond. It yawned open willingly before him.
When Reagan opened the journal, her heart almost stopped.
The pages were filled with sketches.
Sketches of her.
Of fire.
Even a few of her belongings.
Her polka dotted teapot with a chip missing from the lid.
Her favourite blue sun dress.
A scrunchie she'd liked to wear on her wrist for a few months but never actually used.
Page after page, was filled with sketches of her hair, her eyes.
Her hands poised to wield her flames.
And scattered throughout the pages, hastily scrawled notes. Not written in Loki's usually, elegant, sloping penmanship, instead scribbled down quickly, almost as if he wasn't supposed to be writing them down at all.
Little notes about her, from any moment he'd caught even the most fleeting of hints about her.
She sings to herself while she washes the dishes, read the first one.
Her favourite colour is aquamarine.
She scribbles notes on the back of her hand but then forgets to read them.
She thinks it's bad luck to break a mirror.
She hates the taste of radish.
She's afraid of flying.
Her eyes prickled with the threat of tears. Her gaze shifted from the book
"Loki, this is..."
"There's more," he told her, taking the journal from her and flicking towards the back. "Here," Loki smirked a little when he found what he was looking for. "This is where I tried to compile a list of reasons not to like you. Though, I never had much success in that regard."
Once again, her heart ached for him. Because while Loki was being tormented with these images of her, he'd also been burdened, for centuries, with the belief that she would feel nothing but pure disdain for him.
Reagan scanned the list.
She eats ramen 're basically made of cardboard.
She can't seem to ever cook eggs correctly. It's really not that difficult.
She seems to rely quite heavily on something called 'antihistamines' at certain times of the year. Why is she so perpetually itchy?
She enjoys it entirely too much when the news reporter says 'bumper to bumper.' A simple fool who lacks any depth.
And would be so funny - so funny - if it didn't make Reagan's heart almost tear in two knowing that he'd ever felt the need to do that. She swallowed down the emotion, fought the emotion out of her voice. She took up a pen and settled into a chair at the workbench, Loki moved closer to him. tries to make light of it.
"You're right, it's not a very good list," she said with a smirk, determined to ignore the lump that had formed in her throat. "So, what else should we add to it?"
She took up a pen and with a slightly shaky hand, she began to make additions.
She can't dance, she wrote.
She likes the coconut song.
"No," Loki protested gently, he settled into the chair beside her, his arm snaking around her waist as he coaxed the pen from her grasp with the other hand before crossing out her first sentence. "I do like that about you. I adore showing you how. The song, however, can stay."
She laughed, contented, as she leaned into him.
"Anything else?" she asked.
Loki considered for moment.
"Yes," he determined eventually. "Just write 'Skurge.'"
And maybe she laughed a little, and maybe she obliged with a smile, but she also made a point of rolling her eyes at him dramatically.
"Thank you for showing me this," Reagan said, sincerely. "I've never been given anything even close to as special as this. Thank you for trusting me with it. It's the perfect Christmas gift, Loki. You well and truly knocked it out of the park."
Pride bloomed in his chest in response to her words. They both felt it. Neither were ashamed.
"And now - if you'll indulge me - might I ask of you one last gift this evening?" Loki murmured.
"Oh..." Reagan began, looking suddenly embarrassed. "Loki, I'd love to, but... don't have anything else to give you. I'm really sorry, I just- I didn't expect to be outdone by you so magnanimously on your very first Christmas. But rest assured that next year I will absolutely up my game."
Loki kissed her shoulder, his mouth still the shape of a contented smirk.
"I don't desire anything material from you, love. All I want is for you to sit for me."
Her brow furrowed, intrigued.
"Sit for you?" she asked.
Loki conjured a blank canvas on an easel.
"Allow me to paint you," Loki murmured. "It's something I've desired for far longer than I'd care to admit. The time I've spent envisioning you here, while I tried to do your image justice from meagre whisps of dreams and fantasies."
Reagan let loose a small giggle.
"You're going to paint me like one of your French girls?"
"One of my what?"
"Nothing," Reagan smiled. "Never mind. I'm into it...Where do you want me?"
Loki guided her to the other side of the room to an armchair which Reagan was certain, had been black when they'd first entered the room. But now - coincidently, after what she'd just read in his journal - was a distinct shade of aquamarine. She squeezed his hand affectionately.
Loki guided her to sit down, one leg folded beneath her, the other bent up to her chest. He posed her arms to weave gracefully around her leg hugged to her chest, the pose causing her spine to curve alluringly. He carded his fingers through her hair, sweeping it to sit around her shoulders in a slightly dishevelled manner. And after a moment's consideration, he hooked one finger under the strap of nightgown and caused it to slip down her shoulder.
Reagan was left near breathless as the way Loki gazed down at her then.
He leaned down slowly to kiss her lips and then her shoulder and then the crown of her head. He ran his fingers gently through her hair one last time as if savouring the silky feel of it, before returning to his workstation.
Loki sat down behind his easel, his legs spread wide. Reagan was certain he was positioning himself intentionally just to tease her. It was working. Unquestionably.
Loki took up his brush and set to work. His movements were quick and precise, and Reagan was reminded, as she was so often, that Loki was not an Earthy being, but a God. He painted faster than any would mortal would be capable of. But his movements held the deft skill of an otherworldly being.
Reagan watched the way he watched her, adoring the slight pull of in concentration in his brow.
She couldn't stop herself from smiling.
"You're not supposed to move," Loki admonished gently.
"Sorry, I can't help it."
Reagan tried her absolute hardest to remain still, to keep her features neutral, to behave for him. But she couldn't stop her smirk from creeping back onto her face.
Soon enough, Loki set his brush down, and threw her a smug look.
"It's ready," he told her at last.
"It is?"
"Yes."
"So I can move?"
"Yes, love."
"Can I come see it?"
"Of course."
"Are you sure?"
"Reagan, yes, you sweet fool. Come here."
She leapt from her seat and hurried towards him.
But as she rounded the easel, her eyes were fixed on him rather than the painting. On the way his hair was swept back from his face, the way his tunic gaped as he leaned forward to correct a miniscule detail on the canvas with his fingertips, the tiniest, barely-noticeable smudge of paint upon his sinfully sharp cheek bone. She wanted to lick it clean.
Good God, she loved him like nothing else. It was staggering. Threatened to send her dizzy.
She settled down onto his thigh, leaning into his warmth as she admired the painting. The breath rushed from her lungs as she stared at the stunning rendering of herself. If she'd had any doubts that Loki was in love with her, that painting would have laid them all to rest.
A lump swelled in her throat at the sight of it.
He'd painted her gracefully, and elegant, and bathed in the most perfect light. And her hair fell to perfectly frame her face, while still, there was something imperfect to it. Her eyes were bright with mischief and warmth, and though he'd painted no fire upon this particular canvas, the warmth of it was still present. Her expression, at a glance, appeared neutral, but upon closer expression, there was a kindness to it, and a perceptiveness. And dancing at the corner of her lips, the desire to smile.
Reagan fought the urge to run her hand over the image.
"I don't look like that," she barely whispered, barely able to blink, barely able to believe what he'd been able to render.
"No," Loki agreed calmly, his arms snaked around her waist. "But I lack the talent to truly do you justice."
"No," she said. "I definitely don't think that's the case. It's amazing. You're amazing, Loki."
He smiled and kissed her shoulder.
"I'm glad it pleases you."
"I love it. Really, I do."
"Have you ever tried your hand at painting before?" he asked her gently, still trailing his lips to her shoulder blade as she studied the flattering rendering of herself.
Reagan smiled then, as if to herself, before turning to look at him over her shoulder.
"No... but will you let me?"
The corner of his mouth quirked as he swept his gaze over her features then effortlessly conjured a blank canvas for her, accompanied by a fresh palette of paints. Reagan took up a clean paint brush with fresh enthusiasm and placed the wooden end between her teeth. She chewed on it thoughtfully as she considered the canvas for a moment, leaning against him and enjoying the comfort of his body pressed against hers. Loki smiled gently as he watched her pensive expression.
After a time, Reagan leaned forward and dipped her brush carefully into the black paint. She lifted the brush, but rather than turning her attention to her canvas, she shifted in Loki's lap to face him. Loki quirked his head curiously, but he didn't protest when she gently began to peel open the loose tunic he was wearing to reveal the broad slope of his bare chest.
Loki leaned back casually, slinging his arm over the back of his chair to grant her better access and allowed her to work.
He gazed openly at her face, watching her concentrate as she made a few slow, simple brush strokes, enjoying the gentle tickle of the bristles. Before long Reagan set the brush down and looked up at him.
"How's that?"
His eyes travelled slowly to inspect her handywork and his heart clenched almost painfully at the sight of that one simple word.
Mine.
Painted over his heart.
Loki lifted his gaze.
Their eyes met for only a fleeting moment before they crashed together.
They were quickly in a tangle of limbs and heated kisses and strewn away clothes as Loki splayed her out on his workbench and each of them took up the brushes and began to decorate the other.
A painted heart just below his clavicle where she loved to rest her head as she fell asleep.
'Property of Loki' with an arrow trailing up her inner thigh.
An old tattoo she got a lifetime ago with an ex-boyfriend crudely blacked out with Loki scrawled somewhat viciously above it.
Other words and images and doodles soon followed.
Sjelevii.
Soulmate.
I love you.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
He painted colour into the roses tattooed upon her hip.
She painted the word 'horny' up his neck and he laughed, elated, at the sight of it.
He painted fire onto the palms of her hands. And while her right palm was still wet, she pressed it to his chest, leaving an imprint there.
She painted his entire right hand azure blue, up to his elbow, and she guided him to press it to her own chest, before kissing his palm lovingly, smearing streaks of paint across her face. And she felt it along the bond - that he thought she looked perfect. He reached for her - needing her - and tangled his hand into her hair, smearing paint there too.
He drew her mouth to his - to where she belonged - and kissed her, tenderly.
And when he coaxed her to straddle him, she moved eagerly. She laced her hands delicately into his hair at the nape of his neck and she leaned in to chase his warmth - his scent. Him. Their kisses were heated and adoring, coupled with touches that felt like the first time intertwined with an ache as though it could have been the last.
When she sank down onto his length, painfully slowly, merging them, they both stilled. The moment was slow and safe and languid. They each looked down, still caressing the other with heartbreaking tenderness.
The sight of their entwined bodies was a wonderful thing. They were each covered in colours and letters and haphazard smears of paint.
She'd never seen him so beautifully messy before.
She beamed at the sight of it and leaned into him, trailing gentle kisses along his sharp jaw, tasting paint as she traced her path. He wrapped one arm possessively around her waist as they began to move against one another.
The air soon filled with gasps and moans and desperate whispers.
Dreams. Hopes. Desires. Confessions. Promises.
After a moment of hesitation, longing won out. And so, Loki settled his hand back over the blue palm print he'd left on her chest. Her hand instantly travelled down the length of his arm to hold firmly onto his forearm, securing him there, reassuring him that's where he belonged.
That it was okay.
His eyes met hers - adoring, open, trusting. And when he looked down at her hand on him - his skin she'd painted that startling shade of blue - he felt nothing but pure, unwavering love and acceptance ebbing down the bond.
And just for that one night, he couldn't quite manage to find the anything monstrous about that colour at all.
Merry Christmas, readers. I hope tooth-rotting fluff was on your list!
That turned out to be a pretty big one! I can't believe I thought I'd be able to fit it all into chapter 3.
Just letting any readers who are into my writing know that once this story is finished I'm finishing up with this website. I've had a wonderful time here, but engagement has died down to nothing and I can't even see view counts anymore. I'm just not really getting any joy from posting here anymore. It's a real shame, but all good things come to an end, I suppose. Find me on ao3 under the same pen name :) I going to keep posting there.