Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Today is the day you had dreaded for weeks. After studying the footage of the attack, you were outright scared to meet the God of Mischief. Thor was nice… not very godlike, though. But for you, he kind of became the big brother you never really wanted.

Everyone was told to assemble at the hangar. To wait for Thor and Loki's arrival. And right on cue there's the bright light of the Bifrost. As the golden shimmer fades, it leaves behind the Gods wearing their usual Asgardian royal attire. Thor's booming laugh echoed before his boots even touched the floor. Beside him, Loki stood poised and elegant—dressed in green and gold, a shadow of sly amusement curling on his lips.

The team's tension was palpable. Tony masked it with a too-wide grin. Steve's arms were crossed, watching closely. Natasha's eyes narrowed, always calculating. Thor stepped forward, clapping a hand on his brother's shoulder with more force than strictly necessary.
»Friends! It is good to see you all. I bring Loki, as promised. He comes in peace—and with much to atone for.«
Loki's eyes flickered over the group, lingering a second longer on you. »What a warm welcome.« He drawled, the words smooth and almost affectionate—but the undertone was unmistakably mocking. »Midgard's finest, assembled just for me. I'm honoured.« He made an elegant little bow, eyes glittering with mischief.

Tony couldn't help himself: »Just don't touch my espresso machine, Reindeer Games.«
Loki offered him a smile full of teeth. »Fear not, Stark. I have no taste for your mortal… bean water. Poison, I believe.« His gaze swept over you again, appraising, before he turned back to Thor, murmuring just loudly enough for you to hear: »Is this your pet human you spoke of? The nervous one?«

You fake a gag at Loki's remark and shudder. »We're not that close, I assure you.«
As Thor sees you his grin becomes even wider. »Ah, yes! Loki, meet—«
Loki cuts in, never missing a beat, »How adorable. I do so love a frightened mortal in the morning.« He grinned, not unkindly, but with unmistakable delight at your discomfort.
Thor urges towards you, embracing you with one of his signature bone-crushing hugs. You pat his back, coughing slightly.
»It's good to see you Thor...« He continues to introduce you to his brother, like nothing happened.

Then you finally face Loki and meet his gaze. And you freeze. His eyes aren't the icy colour that you were so afraid to look at. But they're glinting in a mischievous emerald green, beautiful even. And now he has caught you staring. Shit.

Loki arches an elegant eyebrow, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he catches your stare. He steps forward, just enough to make you feel the subtle pressure of his presence - like a cat testing how close it can get before you flinch. You immediately take a step back.
»Oh?« His voice is soft, and full of mock innocence. »I assure you, I don't bite.« His eyes flick to Thor, then back to you, unmistakably enjoying every second of your discomfort. »Not unless asked, at least.«
Tony coughs theatrically and Steve rolls his eyes. You tense at his remark but can't hide the faint blush already forming on your cheeks.

Loki's gaze lingers on you, assessing, playful, as if you're a puzzle he's decided to solve for his own amusement. »So, you're the one tasked with keeping Stark's little empire from collapsing every time someone forgets their password?« He leans in, conspiratorial. »That must be… exhausting.«
Thor claps your shoulder in a way that's both reassuring and slightly apologetic.

You tense but manage to answer »I'm sure it's less exhausting than fighting aliens on a battlefield.« Loki's grin widens, sharp and satisfied, he's clearly delighted by the effect he's having on you. He leans back just enough to give you a breath of space, but his gaze never wavers.
»Oh, I don't know about that,« he says, voice lilting with amusement. »At least on the battlefield, you can see your enemies coming.«

Thor laughs, slapping your back in what he thinks is a friendly gesture but nearly knocks the air from your lungs. You cough slightly, trying not to trip forward.
»She is quite formidable, brother! Do not underestimate her. She's the reason our comms work at all.«
Loki's expression grows thoughtful, as if considering this new information. »Formidable,« he repeats, tasting the word. He lets his eyes settle on you again, the smirk returning, softer this time. »I suppose we'll see.«

He steps past you, almost brushing your shoulder. »Lead the way, then. I am so eager to see my… new accommodations.« The word is laced with sarcasm, but his focus is still—unmistakably—on you. Thor offers you an apologetic smile and leads Loki to the conference room. The others follow, the mood is a tangle of curiosity, wariness, and thinly-veiled tension.

Loki strides ahead with the easy, regal confidence like he already owns the place, casting an occasional glance back—mostly for his own amusement. Tony lingers behind, catching up to you as the rest of the group files into the room. He drops his voice to a conspiratorial mutter.
»You alright, IT girl? Or did Loki's little eyes short-circuit your mainframe?« He flashes you a crooked grin, only half teasing. »Listen, just… hang tight after the meeting. You're up for something special. And don't look at me like that—it's not a punishment.«
You look at him with a hint of suspicion and enter the room last.

Inside, Thor stands proudly at Loki's side, hands folded like a proud parent at a school event. Steve takes a seat at the head of the table, Natasha settles with practiced nonchalance near the window, and Bruce Banner slides in quietly, offering you a reassuring, sympathetic smile. Loki already lingers on one of the chairs, one ankle comfortably propped over his knee. His eyes catch yours for just a heartbeat, just long enough to make you wonder if he already knows exactly what's in store.

Tony clears his throat, throwing a quick wink your way before the official discussion about Loki's new home begins. And in the pit of your stomach, a new, uneasy anticipation starts to brew.

Chapter Text

The meeting went fairly well, or at least without too much drama. You listened to all the issues being discussed, occasionally taking some notes. When the public press conference will be, that Loki won't be allowed to leave the building, which areas are off-limit and so on. All the while desperately trying not to look at said God.

As the others file out—Thor giving you an encouraging thumbs-up, Natasha pausing just long enough to give Loki a lingering, assessing look—the conference room settles into a strange, charged silence. Tony remains leaning against the table, arms folded, while Loki stays perfectly poised in his chair, amusement still playing about his features.

Tony glances at you, then at Loki, then sighs dramatically.
»Alright, Mischief Managed, here's the deal.« He nods in your direction. »You're going to be Loki's handler for the next few weeks. Show him the ropes, get him familiar with the building, make sure he doesn't accidentally burn it down. Or prank the rest of us into another dimension.«

»What?!«, you call out. »Tony you can't be serious! Shouldn't anyone with more battle experience be responsible for him??«
But Tony just shrugs, clearly unfazed by your concerns. »Well, the way I see it, you are the only one without a shared past and you haven't tried to kill each other. Yet.« He darts at Loki, a warning.

Loki glances at you, positively delighted. »A handler?« he repeats, savouring the word. »How very… intimate.« His gaze flicks to you, lips twitching. »Shall I fetch my leash, or is that provided?«
You shiver.
Tony just shakes his head, already regretting everything. »I'm going to be in my lab. Good luck.«

And with that, he exits the room. Leaving Loki and you alone in the empty conference room in awkward silence. Loki, meanwhile, is clearly relishing your discomfort.
He leans forward, fingers steepled, voice low and silken. »I must say, Stark's logic is as questionable as his taste in armour. But I do appreciate a handler who hasn't attempted my murder… yet.«
He tilts his head, emerald eyes glinting. »Well,« he purrs, »shall we begin our little tour? Or are you planning to run for your life first?«

Loki rises gracefully to his feet, closing the space between you with a feline sort of ease. He studies you, the corners of his mouth curling. »Tell me, what makes you so dangerous that they trust you with me, hmm?« He's close now, close enough for you to see the fine patterns in his green eyes. »Or is it that you're simply the only one who doesn't know what I'm capable of?« His smile is wicked, teasing.

You clear your throat and straighten in a desperate attempt to show more confidence.
»I'm perfectly aware of what you're capable of, I've seen the footage of the attack. And don't try to threaten me. You can't use you magic in this tower.«
He wouldn't even need magic to harm you, let alone half his strength.
But you try not to think about that.
»Tony managed to sneak some technology from your friends you tried to bring here and was able to craft a warden. Also, the whole place is monitored, if anything happens, Tony, the security and me get notice immediately.« You sigh deeply. Hoping to have made your point.

Loki's smirk deepens, eyes dancing. »You're braver than you look,« he murmurs. Obviously clearly amused rather than chastened by your attempt at authority. He gestures grandly toward the door. »Then lead on, darling jailor. I promise to be on my very best behaviour.«

The promise is empty, and he knows you know it. He clasps his hands behind his back and inclines his head in a mock bow. »Oh, and I do love a mortal who's done her homework. How diligent. How… adorably naïve.«

He falls into step beside you, eyes roaming the hall as if already plotting mischief, despite your warnings. »I suppose I should thank you for the tour. After all, a gilded cage is still a cage—and it's always nice to know one's way around.«

You sense him studying you out of the corner of his eye as you walk, searching for cracks in your armour.
»Tell me…« he says, his tone softer but still edged with that unshakable self-assurance, »what's it like, being the warden to a villain? Does it thrill you? Or just terrify you?« He smiles, all teeth and charm. »I promise to be… mostly good. As long as you keep things interesting.«

Your breath hitches slightly at his boldness but you try to remain calm.
»I'm terribly sorry, but I'm not here for your entertainment. I'm also not your warden. Merely your... guide, I suppose. And as you do know, I didn't choose this task. Now come, here's our first stop.«

You stop in front of the community kitchen first. You open the door for him and let him peek inside. Loki strolls up beside you, casting a glance through the doorway with an appraising tilt of his head. The kitchen—shiny, modern, full of suspiciously advanced gadgets and a perpetually humming Stark-coffee machine—seems to amuse him.

»That's the kitchen, breakfast and dinner are usually prepared. But we're allowed to use it the whole day if we want to cook or prepare anything.« You watch him carefully and wait for his reaction.
»Allowed to cook, you say?« He steps past you, almost brushing your arm, and glances around with mild disdain. »I suppose this is what mortals call "rustic charm".« He picks up a mug, inspects it as if it might bite him, and sets it down with exaggerated delicacy.

You eye him warily as he lifts the mug—your mug, as if he might break it. »Careful with that, it's my favourite.«
It's a vintage looking mug but has been recently produced. It has some rather snarky comments on it. Loki's gaze flickers to the mug again, holding it up between two fingers with a flourish. His lips curling in genuine amusement as he reads the print. Then he sets it back down carefully, as if honouring your claim.

He flashes you a sly, sidelong smile. »Don't worry, darling. I'm quite capable in the kitchen. I've brewed a poison or two in my day, but I assure you, your tea is safe from me—at least for now.«
You almost smile at his poison remark. »No poison in this kitchen, Mischief. But you're allowed to use anything that doesn't have a name on it. But I suggest you not to eat Thor's Pop Tarts, he has threatened people with his hammer before.«

At the mention of Thor's Pop Tarts, Loki rolls his eyes, exhaling a laugh that's all velvet and mockery. »Ah, yes. The mighty Thunderer, brought to his knees by processed pastries. How very dignified.«
He shakes his head, still smiling. »Don't worry, I value my life far too much to incur his culinary wrath. Though I must admit, the temptation is… considerable.«

He straightens, folding his arms. »So, what's next, guide? Will you show me the armoury, or is that reserved for those you do trust?«
You exhale exasperatedly »Not the armoury. Security reasons, you know.« Then you step off and gesture him to come with you.

Loki follows you, his steps easy, almost gliding as you guide him through the halls. He throws you a mock look of wounded pride at your comment about the armoury.
»Security reasons—how very prudent. You Midgardians are learning.«

Your next stop is the living room, not too far from the kitchen. As you open the door for him, he glances around at the plush furniture, the oversized screen, the faintly ridiculous array of throw pillows Tony refuses to admit he likes.
You also tell him about movie nights and that he's allowed to join if he manages to behave. His mouth twists in a half-smile as you mention movie nights.
»Oh? And what, pray tell, does a "movie night" entail? Do you all gather around and watch tales of heroics… or perhaps stories of misunderstood villains?« There's a flicker of amusement and curiosity in his eyes—gone as quickly as it came.
You think about it for a moment, then answer. »We basically watch all kinds of movies. Anyone can make suggestions and sometimes we vote. Don't tell him, but I think Thor has a soft spot for Disney movies...« You smile to yourself, slightly shaking your head in amused disbelief of the mighty thunder god enjoying princesses.

Loki's eyes widen in mock astonishment, lips parting in a slow grin. »Disney movies? Remarkable. The things one learns about their kin in exile.« He leans closer, as if to confide, »I shall treasure that secret… and perhaps employ it for future blackmail.«
Loki pauses for a moment. »What else, guide? Is there a secret library? A dungeon? Or am I to be banished to my quarters at sundown?«
The last is clearly a jest, a hint of challenge in his tone.
»Lead on. Show me what other wonders this tower conceals—assuming Stark hasn't hidden all the interesting things behind an electric fence.«

As you walk out into the hallway, he falls into step beside you, his earlier sharpness slightly softened by a growing, but still teasing curiosity.
»So, tell me, how did you end up in this menagerie of heroes? It's not every day one meets a mortal who can hold their own among gods and legends.«

You sigh at his question. »Turns out I'm too good at my job. And I was in desperate need of some money. The job-offer even said it includes board and lodge. I didn't even know I was applying for the Stark Tower because the job-advertise didn't have too much details. I was surprised when I found out I had my job interview with Tony Stark.« You huff slightly. »And well, here I am. Killing everyone's viruses and occasionally deleting their browser history.«

Loki listens with a look of amused surprise as you describe your accidental induction into superhero chaos.
»Fascinating,« he muses, »So you were lured here under false pretences by a man who can't clear his own browsing history. Stark truly is a master manipulator.«

You take another elevator down a few floors. As it opens, you stand in front of a huge gym, fit for mutants and gods alike. He follows you into the vast training area, pausing to take in the state-of-the-art equipment and wide-open sparring spaces. His eyes narrow appreciatively at the sheer scale—and, perhaps, at the possibilities. You show him the training weapons, some swords, daggers and alike. As well as the touchscreen where one can block training areas if one wishes to train or spar alone without curious eyes.
»Well, this is… impressive,« he admits, running a hand along the edge of a reinforced treadmill, as if weighing how much damage it could withstand. »Thor mentioned your training facilities, but I thought he was exaggerating—he usually is.«

He glances sidelong at you, an eyebrow arched. »Do you train here as well? Or is your idea of exercise chasing rogue USB drives and wrestling with firewalls?« There's a glint of challenge in his eyes, half-teasing and half-curious, as if daring you to prove him wrong.

You watch him stride through the room and answer his question.
»Yes, I also train here. Though more basic exercises. And if I'm lucky, or unlucky some basic self-defence with Nat. I'm not made for combat.«

Loki's gaze lingers on you, a faint, assessing smile playing on his lips. »Not made for combat?« he echoes, the words half disbelief, half curiosity. »And yet here you are—walking through a den of warriors, gods, and assassins. Either you underestimate yourself, or you have a peculiar sense of adventure.«

He strolls a little further into the room, fingertips brushing over the cool steel of a weight rack. »Self-defence with the Widow? Surviving that, even for a day, is no small feat. I suspect you're tougher than you let on.«

»Well, she usually goes easy on me.« You laugh softly.
He turns back to you, studying you for a beat longer than is strictly comfortable, before his tone shifts—lighter, almost teasing.
»If you ever wish for a sparring partner with a flair for dramatics, you know where to find me. I promise, I'll try not to turn into a snake. That's more of a Thor thing.«
He gives you a playful, conspiratorial wink, then gestures onward. »And what have you planned for me now, guide? Do I get to see your favourite part of this little kingdom?«

You eye him warily after his offer, already on your way to the next stop.
»I doubt I'd stand a chance against you. And you would have thrown me to the mats in a mere second, so I suppose I also don't pass as entertainment. I'm sorry, Mischief. I should probably train some more with humans before I try my luck with an actual God.«

Loki's smile deepens at your honesty—something about your self-deprecation seems to genuinely amuse him, maybe even disarm him a little.
»You sell yourself short. You've survived an entire conversation with me so far, and that's more than most Asgardians can claim.«
He lets your wary glance linger before adding, »But I suppose I'll have to settle for being entertained by your tour. Though, if you ever change your mind, I promise to be gentle.« He touches his heart, the gesture dramatically insincere.
You just shake your head at the gesture, slightly amused though.

As you continue through the corridors, the tension between you and Loki shifts—a little less predator and prey, a little more… playful, teasing with a spark of curiosity.

He follows, hands tucked behind his back, glancing at every little detail as if he might catalogue the entire Tower by nightfall.
You show him the employee apartments and tell him on which floor the other Avengers live. Not specifying which belongs to whom.

You even show him the indoor swimming pool. Making sure to keep a safe distance to him and the water at all times. You never know when his intrusive thoughts might strike.
He glances back to see you hovering safely out of arm's reach and his eyes narrow with exaggerated offense. »You wound me. Do I seem the type to indulge in such… base trickery?«
The innocent act lasts all of two seconds before he grins, all teeth.

You huff at his statement. »Isn't trickery like... your last name? Better be safe than sorry.« you shrug and turn to show him the rest.
»Better safe than sorry—wise words. You may survive me yet,« he muses, still amused as he falls into step beside you again. »And as for trickery—well, I have a reputation to uphold.«
Then he continues with a rare, more genuine tone: »You know, you're handling this all far better than most mortals would. I almost feel cheated—I expected more panic.« A beat. »Should I try harder?«

You eye him warily, not sure what to make of his last question. He follows as you lead him down the next hall.
»So, what's left, guide? Or are you finally ready to show me my gilded cell?« The tease is there, but now, you can sense an eagerness—however masked—for what comes next.
You let out a small huff. »It's not that gilded I'm afraid, your majesty« you add, just to mock him.

During your tour around the tower and your conversations, you occasionally try to catch a glimpse of his eyes. Without staring directly, of course. Were they really green now? You could have sworn they were ice-blue and cruel in every single footage. Maybe it's just the lighting but they do look green now. Curious.

»So, where to now?« he asks, voice lower, almost casual. »Or are you saving the best for last?« He asks, interrupting your thought.
Then you stop, assessing whether to show him his cage immediately or something else first.
He arches an eyebrow, a slow, knowing smile curving his lips. »Lost your way, guide?«
His tone is teasing, but there's a subtle edge of interest—he's reading you, waiting to see what you're up to. Would it be wise to show him…?

Loki catches your hesitation, tilting his head just so—watchful, as if he senses the swirl of questions behind your eyes. You catch the glint of green in his gaze as he studies you, the colour vibrant even in the artificial light—nothing icy or cold about it now. Only mischief and perhaps a hint of wonder.

He glances down the hall, then back to you. »Show me whatever you like. I promise not to bite—unless you ask nicely.« His eyes sparkle, but you can sense he's waiting for your choice.
You slightly blush at his remark, of course. But you turn your head so he hopefully won't notice.
He does, of course, with a flicker of satisfaction and amusement. That half-smirk never quite leaving his face.

After making up your mind, you head to the opposite direction. »Follow me.« you say while glancing at the CCTV, wondering if this might be okay.
He follows your gaze, a sly smile tugging on his lips. As you guide him away from the more public areas, he tilts his head, curiosity piqued.
»Am I being granted a privilege, then?« he asks, his voice softer now, less teasing. »Or is this the part where you show me where the real secrets are kept?«

»No secrets, I'm afraid. I just wasn't particular instructed to show you this. It should be fine though…« Then you add as a whisper, more to yourself. »I hope…«
And you proceed to show Loki the last stop of your tour.

Chapter Text

You come to a halt in front of a double door. Out of wood this time, not metal like the other doors in the building. It also doesn't have an electronical lock and looks quite out of place with all the technology around.

Loki studies the door, eyes narrowing in interest. His hand hovers over the wood, fingers tracing the grain without quite touching it—almost reverent, as if he senses something significant in its presence here among all the glass and steel.
»How… curious,« he murmurs, glancing at you, his expression noticeably softer than before. »This isn't Stark's style at all. It's almost… old-world.«
For a moment, the bravado slips—you see something thoughtful in his face, a flash of longing perhaps, or nostalgia for a place that isn't here.

He straightens, giving you a gentler look than any he's shown so far. »You're full of surprises, aren't you? May I?«
Loki gestures to the door, waiting for your approval before opening it—uncharacteristically patient, almost courtly, as if sensing the moment means something, even if he can't yet name it.

You nod to him, allowing him to go in first. As he enters, he finds a small library. Some velvet armchairs and sofas at the front with a few small coffee tables, right next to a big window. There's even a small kitchenette for preparing tea. You bribed Tony to get one installed.
There are a few rows of bookshelves, although nothing huge or fancy. You shift from one foot to the other as you watch him pacing along the shelves.

For the first time, his mask slips a little—his gaze softening as he takes in the armchairs, the cosy arrangement, the shelves lined with new and well-worn spines alike.
»Uhm… Thor once said that you like to read. This room isn't surveyed, so if you ever want to spend some time alone outside of your gilded cage you can come here. No one ever really visits the library apart from me sometimes...«
You glance up at him, almost sheepishly. »The glass is enforced though, so no escaping this tower, not even from the library. We had Thor test the window.« You laugh softly, remembering how Thor attacked the window with his hammer.
»I'm sure it's nothing like a royal library but it's still better than nothing. I'd understand if you're disappointed though.«
You tell him all that, knowing fairly well that he won't be too honest with his reactions. He has a reputation to keep and you wouldn't expect otherwise.

He turns slowly, eyes landing on you, the faintest trace of wonder flickering across his features.
»Disappointed?« he echoes, voice lower, touched by something far less performative than before. »Not at all.«
Loki drifts through the stacks, fingertips grazing a few books as he moves, pausing at the window with a half-smile at your mention of Thor's testing. For a moment, you see not the villain from the footage, but someone a little lost, a little tired, and far more complicated.

He looks back at you, mischief returning but softer now, like a secret just between the two of you.
»You know, some would call this a dangerous move—showing the resident monster your secret sanctuary. But I'm not ungrateful, guide. In fact,«
He glances at a nearby volume, picking it up and flipping through the pages. »I think you may have just saved me from dying of boredom.«

You watch him browsing through the humble collection of books, surprised at his sudden honesty.
Not quite able to meet his gaze, you answer quietly »You're welcome… I guess… Though I'm afraid, I can't leave you here just yet. I still have to show you your apartment.«
You say as you walk to the door again, holding it open and waiting for him.
Loki lingers a moment longer before he closes the book with a gentle thud and puts it back to the shelf. If you didn't know better, you'd say there's even a flicker of disappointment is his eyes as you mention leaving.

He regards you with a faint, wry smile. »Duty calls. Very well, lead on, warden.« His tone is light, but now laced with a soft warmth that hasn't been there before. A touch of respect, or perhaps something softer.
As he passes you at the door, he pauses just long enough to add, »Thank you… for the tour. And the trust. Even if it's only temporary.«

Then he steps back into the corridor, his usual poise restored, ready to follow wherever you lead—though you sense he'll remember the library, and the quiet moment, far longer than he'd ever admit.

»I'm not your warden…« You sigh.
You continue walking along the halls until you stop in front of an apartment door. Looking just like every other apartment on this floor. After entering the security code to unlock it, you open the door and hand him a folded note.

»Well, here we are. Don't forget the code, I don't like being called in the middle of the night because someone forgot it. Again. And I'm not saying who... If there's anything that's missing or if you need something, you can order it at your computer. Though all orders have to be approved by IT, which unfortunately happens to be me. So, don't overdo it.«
Then, after a pause.
»...you do know how to use a computer, right...?«

Loki watches as you open the door, taking the code from you with a little flourish, folding the note neatly between his fingers. He gives you a long, dramatic look at your question, as if deeply affronted.

»Please,« he says, voice dripping with mock offense. »I conquered a city with less technology than what Stark put in his toaster. I assure you, I can operate a computer.«
He pauses, then adds with a sly smile, »Though I admit, your password requirements are… unnecessarily cruel. Eight characters, three symbols, a haiku, and the name of Stark's first robot? No wonder you're indispensable here.«
You roll your eyes at his comment and huff, almost relieved.

»Good, I already have my hands full with Thor who forgets basic functions every time... Or breaks his computer, again, when he gets frustrated. And the code is not that hard.« There's not even a haiku in it…

He steps into the apartment, eyes roaming over the space—a bedroom, a small sitting area, a desk with a sleek computer, and just enough neutral colours to remind him it's not quite home. Still, it's comfortable, and it's his.

He looks back at you, a ghost of a real smile playing at the edges of his mouth. »And don't worry, guide. I'll try to keep my requests to a minimum. And if I ever do forget the code, I'll simply blame Thor.«
A beat.
»Anything else you wish to show me, or shall I begin testing the limits of Midgardian streaming services?«
When he meets your gaze, you try to catch another glimpse of his eyes, hoping he won't notice. Just to make sure... You'll have to rewatch all that forsaken footage later to see if you're right.
»I'm afraid that's it for now. Breakfast is from 7 to 9 if you want to eat with the others and dinner from 6 to 8. Enjoy your afternoon«

Loki notices your glance—he misses very little, after all—and lets you look, making no effort to hide the striking green of his gaze. He tilts his head ever so slightly, a faintly curious smile forming as if he's caught you peeking at a secret. He doesn't call you out, but there's a silent I see you in the way his eyes linger on yours a heartbeat longer than necessary.

»Duly noted. Breakfast at dawn, dinner at dusk—very civilized. Though I suspect I'll find more amusement in this place than I'd first imagined.« His tone is softer now.
He leans against the doorframe, regarding you, then gestures inside with a flourish. »Thank you for the tour… and for not treating me entirely like a prisoner.« There's sincerity in the words, rare from him, and you have the feeling he means it.

He steps back, watching you with a flicker of amusement and curiosity. The door clicks softly shut behind him, leaving you at the threshold—alone with your thoughts and a thousand questions. Heart still racing, wondering if you just made a mistake… Or if it's the beginning of something else entirely.

Then you walk off to your own apartment. Which you haven't showed him of course—security reasons.

The rest of your day is a blur of replayed footage, screen glare, and mounting frustration. No matter how many times you pause or rewind, you're only spotting blue, cold eyes in every frame. In every lighting. In every angle. Nothing like the living, shifting emerald you saw just hours ago.

Maybe it's the screen... Or the camera... You'll have to test your theory some more... Or ask Thor if all else fails.

But tomorrow is another day. And now you have a mystery to uncover. One that's far more interesting than any IT ticket.

Chapter Text

The next day you dress yourself for breakfast and walk down the halls. Still looking a bit tired due to your all-nighter... Or half the night at least. You can't help but wonder if Loki might be there or if he chooses to eat alone, outside of official breakfast hours.

The kitchen is alive with the low hum of morning conversation and the unmistakable rumble of Thor's booming laughter, already demolishing a truly impressive stack of pancakes.
Natasha sits nearby, sipping black coffee and scrolling through her phone, while Steve quietly reads the morning news on a tablet. Tony breezes in and out, carrying what looks like his third cup of espresso, muttering about meetings.

And then—Loki. He's there, to your mild surprise, seated at the far end of the table with a cup of tea. He's not holding court, nor is he avoiding everyone; he's simply present, blending into the strange, chaotic morning routine of Earth's mightiest (and most dysfunctional) household.
His hair is neater than you expected this early, his posture a bit too elegant for someone slumming it with mortals, but there's a book open beside his plate—the library already being put to use.

Thor waves you over with syrup on his chin, beaming.
»There you are! Come, sit, join us! Loki has already tried the toast, and—look!—nothing burned!« He grins at his brother, clearly proud.

Loki glances up, his gaze meeting yours. This morning, in the golden sunlight, his eyes are unmistakably green—brilliant, impossible to ignore, even in the everyday bustle. He gives you a small, knowing nod, just between the two of you.

»Good morning,« he says, voice smoother than the tea he's drinking. »Sleep well, guide?« There's a hint of mischief, but also something else, like he already knows about your restless night.

You wave everyone good morning. Then hesitate, clearly surprised that Loki greets you as well.
»Good morning...« you mumble to him. Confused and also very tired. Then you tend to the cupboard to prepare yourself your favourite blend of tea, looking for your favourite cup as well.

It's right where you left it yesterday—untouched, though you notice it's been turned ever so slightly so the print faces outward, like a silent inside joke waiting for you. Loki's eyes flick briefly to the mug as you retrieve it, the faintest suggestion of a smirk at your little ritual.

Unsure where to sit, you glance between Loki and the others. You don't want him to feel left out but you also wouldn't dare to sit right next to him. So, you settle next to Nat in your usual spot. Just diagonally opposite of Loki now.

The rest of the team keeps up their usual banter. Tony makes a joke about Thor's daily calorie load, Natasha snorts, and Steve quietly offers you a slice of toast.

Loki, for once, doesn't seem in a hurry to disrupt the domestic peace. Instead, he lets his hand rest on his book and looks up at you as you sit, those impossible green eyes meeting yours.

»You look tired,« he says, soft enough that only you can hear. »Burning the midnight oil, or did Thor's snoring reach your floor as well?«
He raises his cup in a subtle salute, as if acknowledging some secret between you.
»Careful, guide. You might make me think you were up all-night plotting against me.« His words are teasing, but not unfriendly.

Surprised by his perception you answer »No plotting, Mischief. Just some... IT stuff. As always,« you sigh and prepare yourself some muesli and take a sip from your mug.

Loki arches an eyebrow at your response, the hint of a smile curving his lips as he rests his chin on his hand, watching you with open curiosity.
»Such dedication. Your department is fortunate to have someone so… tireless,« he says, amusement woven through his words.
»I do hope you aren't driven to madness by the end of my first week.«

Thor, noticing your tiredness, leans across the table and booms, »She works harder than all of us! Why, even Stark would be lost without her, wouldn't you?«
Tony, with his mouth full of toast, only grunts and waves his mug in your direction in a lazy salute.

Natasha gives you a sideways glance, her usual smirk softened just a touch.
»You should pace yourself. No system stays secure if the admin's half asleep.«
She nudges the orange juice your way—a silent reminder to take care of yourself.

You thank Nat for the juice and place it next to your tea. Loki's attention remains on you, green eyes never quite leaving your face.

»If you ever wish for a… distraction from your tireless labours, you know where to find me,« he says quietly, the invitation almost casual—almost.
»After all, what's a little mischief between colleagues?«
For a moment, his gaze lingers, almost challenging you to accept—before he returns to his tea, letting the rest of the table's energy fill the room again.

Puzzled by Loki's behaviour you answer »I'll pass thank you... Distraction from a trickster doesn't sound so wise. Besides, I already have work to do. Unlike some others...« you add loud enough and glance at the others around the table.
No saving the world today (unless anything happens) and everyone has free leisure time.
Except you.
Great.

Across the table, Loki's eyes glint with humour at your retort. He inclines his head, mock-respectful. »How wise. Though I would argue that a little chaos now and then keeps things interesting.« His voice is quiet enough for only you to hear, edged with a promise of more mischief to come.

Tony raises his mug in mock sympathy. »Some of us save the world by thinking, you know. It's exhausting work.«
Natasha smirks over her coffee. »He means napping on the sofa.«
Thor beams at you, clearly proud of your work ethic. »If you have need of assistance, just call, friend! Though I must warn you, the last time I tried to fix a computer, Stark threatened to hide Mjolnir in the server room.«

»No thank you, Thor. I'd be faster with my work if I had to build an entire computer myself first,« you laugh.

You smile to yourself as you expected more bickering between the brothers and Tony. But you try not to think about it too much and enjoy the somewhat calm morning. You take another sip from your tea—and the orange juice, just for Nat.
She gives you a subtle nod of approval for drinking the juice—her own way of looking out for you.

Loki sits back, watching you as if genuinely curious how you'll navigate this strange new life.
»Good luck with your work, guide. Try not to miss me too much while you're off being indispensable.«

»Mischief, if I start to miss you too much, I'll turn on the surveillance cameras in your room,« you say mockingly.
There aren't any cameras in the apartments. But he doesn't have to know when you can tease him a bit in return.

Loki's eyes narrow in amused suspicion, the corners of his mouth twitching upward.
»Is that a threat, or a promise?« he retorts, arching a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at you.
Tony nearly chokes on his coffee, while Natasha snorts quietly behind her cup, clearly enjoying the exchange.

Loki leans back, feigning nonchalance, but there's a spark of mischief in his eyes as he regards you.
»Careful, guide. If you turn the tables on me too often, I might start to think you enjoy my company.«
He lifts his teacup in a small salute.
»But by all means, keep me guessing. I find it… refreshing.«
There's a flash of that signature Loki grin, before he turns the page of his book, letting you get to work.
But you can feel his attention, quietly lingering, even as you leave the table.

You head straight to the living room while everyone is still in the kitchen. There's still some time left before you have to start work. You fumble out your USB from your pocket and immediately insert it into the big TV. Maybe there's more to spot in the footage on the big screen.

The living room is quiet, sunlight filtering through the tall windows and reflecting off the polished screen. You settle onto the sofa, pulling your knees up for comfort, and queue up the footage once again—first on the main feed, then zooming in on Loki's face in every available frame.

The battle in New York.
Loki's eyes are glacial blue, cold as steel. Even in the rare moments he isn't furious or grinning, the colour is clear, sharp, unyielding.
You skip through hours of footage: the chaos, the surrender, even that brief glimpse in the holding cell. Always the same. Blue, blue, blue.

A gentle rustle makes you glance up. Loki stands in the doorway, book in hand, regarding you with mild curiosity.
»You do know there are better movies than that old war reel, don't you?« His tone is wry, but not unkind. His eyes—here and now—are unmistakably green, vivid even in the filtered light.

He raises an eyebrow, closing the distance with easy, silent steps.
»Still looking for monsters, guide?«
His gaze lingers on the paused frame, then back to you. There's a knowing in his smile—like he's caught you with your hand in the cookie jar.

»Loki!! How long have you been standing there?« You fumble with the remote, almost dropping it as you finally manage to turn off the TV. His face still zoomed in on the huge screen mere seconds ago. Great... He won't let this slip. You blush slightly.

Loki's lips curl into a slow, wicked grin as he takes in your flustered state, clearly savouring every second.
»Long enough to see you're far more interested in my eyes than my war crimes,« he teases, settling into the armchair opposite you with far too much grace for this hour of the morning.
He sets his book on the coffee table, steepling his fingers, eyes glinting that impossible emerald.

»I wasn't looking at your eyes! I was working...,« you try to defend yourself. The blush on your cheeks now more evident unfortunately.

Loki lets out a quiet, silken laugh, unfooled and clearly delighted by your flustered protest.
»Of course,« he replies, voice playful and low. »Just a bit of… professional curiosity, then?«
He leans forward, elbows on knees, his expression softer now—less like the trickster and more like someone letting you in on a secret.

He studies you for a moment, letting the silence linger just long enough for your blush to deepen, then says almost gently, »It's all right. I know what you saw in the footage.«
His gaze holds yours, unmistakably green. Then he lowers his voice and grins.
»But if you ever want to see for yourself, you only have to ask.«

You're not sure if you should still insist on your excuse on working. Which he clearly doesn't buy anyway. So, you wonder if you should meet his question with equal… teasing. Not letting him know about your investigations.

»Well... maybe I was just so charmed by your face that I needed a bigger screen. Or... I was just looking at what I got myself into by being your warden. I'll let you decide.« You stand up to fetch your USB from the huge TV.

Loki's grin grows, clearly pleased by your answer. He leans back in the armchair, arms folding loosely as he watches you cross the room, his eyes never leaving you.
»Ah, my reputation precedes me. And here I thought Midgardians only admired my chaos, not my bone structure.«

He lets out a soft, theatrical sigh.
»If you wish to study me, I'd rather you do it in person. Much less pixelation that way, and far more… interactive.« There's laughter in his voice, but he doesn't push further—content to let you have your secret investigation, for now.

You blush at his statement of studying him in person and quickly turn to the screen so he won't notice the blush deepen across your cheeks.
»Well, I'm afraid that study won't be necessary,« you mutter.

As you retrieve your USB stick, he quirks an eyebrow.
»So, tell me, guide: What have you decided? Am I as terrible as they say, or merely tolerable?«
His tone is teasing, but underneath there's a sliver of real curiosity, as if he cares just a little too much about your answer.

You're fumbling with your USB as you answer.
»You can be okay, I guess. Sometimes.« Unable to keep a small smile from tugging on your lips, still facing the screen.

Loki catches the faint smile in your tone and the lingering blush, and his grin turns softer, more genuine—pleased, not smug. He stands, book in hand, and closes the distance between you and the armchair with that effortless, predatory grace.

As you sense him stepping closer, you turn around and retreat half a step. Your back hitting the wall almost immediately in the process.

»Okay,« he repeats, drawing out the word as if tasting it.
»Not terrible. Not monstrous. Simply… okay.« His eyes glint, undeniably green in the light.
»I suppose I'll have to live with that glowing review. From you, it's practically a compliment.«

He leans in slightly and your eyes go wide. You can't say if it's fear you feel or something else entirely. And now you get a perfect look of those emerald eyes, up close and fixed on your own.

His voice is lower now, a conspiratorial whisper meant for your ears alone.
»If you ever change your mind about that study, let me know. I'm far more fascinating up close.«
He smirks, mischief is glinting in his eyes. You're not sure if it's an invitation or a dare.

Loki straightens, steps back, and with a little bow, adds, »Enjoy your morning, guide. Try not to work too hard.«
Then he turns and glides away, leaving you alone in the sunlit room, the echo of his presence lingering in the air.

Once he's gone, you release the breath you didn't know you were holding. Your fingers are still tight around the USB as you hear his footsteps fade down the hall.

You know you won't get any easy answers from him—not yet. But maybe, just maybe, Thor might be more forthcoming… or at least less cryptic. Either way, you're sure of one thing: you're in for more than just IT work in the days to come.

Chapter Text

You wait until Loki's steps fade completely and move swiftly through the hallways, USB still warm in your hand, the rush of adrenaline not quite faded. You head down to the gym, the distant thud of weights and the rhythmic slam of fists on training mats already audible through the closed elevator doors.
Sure enough, Thor is there—mid-rep with a massive barbell, sweat on his brow, looking every bit the golden son of Asgard.

He spots you immediately once the doors open and sets the weight down with a heavy, cheerful thud.
»Ah! Good morning again, my friend!«
His face breaks into a wide grin, as if nothing could possibly trouble him in this world.

He wipes his hands on a towel and strides over, still beaming.
»You look troubled. Have you come to train, or do you seek my wise counsel? I have plenty of both!« He winks, then—seeing the look on your face—his expression softens.
»What is it? You know you can ask me anything.«

You look up at him. »Thor, I have a question…,« you begin. Then glance around to check if you're really alone and make sure Loki isn't around the next corner—again.

He slings the towel around his neck and gestures to the bench, inviting you to sit.
»Come, what weighs on your mind?«

As you don't spot anyone, you relax slightly and let him guide you to the bench.
Thor sits beside you, massive and solid, a reassuring presence. He senses your unease and immediately lowers his voice, growing serious in that uniquely gentle way of his.

»Of course. You have my word—whatever you wish to ask, it will stay between us.«

»It's about Loki…,« you admit a little sheepishly.

He leans in a little, elbows on his knees, giving you his full attention.
»Is he troubling you? Has he done something already?«
There's a hint of protective brotherly concern, but also an odd note of hopefulness—Thor is clearly rooting for Loki to do better this time.

»No, he's not troubling... that much. A bit annoying maybe...«
You pause and look around again, eyeing the entrance carefully. And suddenly feeling very much like some sort of lovesick teenager, asking the big brother about information.

Thor waits patiently, his blue eyes kind and open, as if he's used to mortals struggling to find the right words about his brother.
He chuckles softly, nudging you with a gentle elbow.

»Annoying is how he shows affection, I think,« he says, a twinkle of humour in his voice.
»You are not the first to be puzzled by Loki, nor will you be the last. I shall do my best to explain—without all the riddles he loves so much.«

»Well, first of all—he's a menace. He just caught me working. And my work unfortunately included looking on his face zoomed in on the giant screen in the living room,« you groan exasperatedly.

Thor lets out a booming, genuine laugh, clapping you on the shoulder so hard it nearly jolts you off the bench.
»Ah! You have already experienced the true mischief of my brother—being caught at the most inconvenient moment possible!«
He grins, clearly finding the situation hilarious rather than embarrassing for you.

»Of course he wanted to know what I was doing... Even offered himself as living and interactive study subject.«
You gesture with your hands in defeat and blush again at the memory.

Thor laughs even harder, shoulders shaking, and wipes a joyful tear from his eye.
»That sounds like Loki, all right! He will tease you mercilessly now that he knows it flusters you. The best thing to do is tease him back. He is much less clever when he is on the receiving end!«
His voice is warm, encouraging you to find some amusement in the chaos.

You make a mental foot note. Teasing back the God of Mischief.
Nothing easier than that...

Thor's expression grows a little more thoughtful.
»Was there something in the footage that worried you? Or… are you simply curious about him?« he asks kindly, no judgment—just the friendly concern of someone who's seen his brother bewilder people for centuries.

»No, I'm not curious about him!« You defend yourself immediately, visibly flustered.
»Don't get the wrong idea! I just have to figure something out about the footage.«
You sigh deeply, bracing yourself for your question.
»Don't ask why, okay? But what colour are Loki's eyes?«

Thor looks genuinely surprised by your question, his eyebrows rising in curiosity. He pretends not to notice your blush or your nervousness, choosing to treat your question with gentle seriousness.

»Loki's eyes? They're blue, at least that's how I remember them.«
He trails off, frowning in thought.
»Although… now that you mention it, there were times—especially when we were young—when they seemed greener. But during the attack, I remember them being as cold and blue as Jotunheim's ice.«
He thinks for a moment, then adds with a chuckle, »Though I suppose, knowing Loki, he could change them if he wished to fool someone.«

»But he can't use his magic here,« you say after thinking for a moment.
Thor gives you an apologetic smile. »If you notice green, I'd trust your judgement. Just don't tell him I got it wrong—he'll never let me live it down.«

You sigh, feeling both more confused and oddly at ease.
»I'm not sure if that helps… but thank you, Thor.«

He gives you a warm, reassuring smile and squeezes your shoulder with a gentleness that belies his strength.
»Of course. It is not always easy, being around Loki—but it is never dull, either.«
There's a glimmer of affection in his eyes, for both you and his brother.

Then he leans in, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
»If you ever wish to know more about him—his past, his tricks, or even his favourite food—you only have to ask. I will tell you what I can.«
Thor winks, then stands, stretching.
»Now, go easy on him. And on yourself.«

»No, I don't want to know more about him!« you say, almost a little too offended as you storm off to your office. To finally get some work done for the day.

Thor raises his hands in mock surrender, grinning broadly at your flustered denial.
»Of course, of course! No more questions about Loki!« he calls after you, laughter rumbling behind you as you march away.

But even as you disappear down the hall, you hear him say, just loud enough for you to catch, »If you change your mind, you know where to find me!«

As you reach your office, you're left with the silence of your own thoughts, the faint echo of Thor's good-natured teasing, and the memory of those unmistakably green eyes. No matter how hard you try to focus on your IT work, you can't quite shake the feeling that you're on to something.

Your morning quickly fills with the usual flood of emails, password resets, and a few panicked messages about printers. The helpdesk chat pings constantly—one of the lab assistants needs admin rights again, someone's locked out of their account, and, of course, Tony is complaining about something.
Just your usual work day.

While approving orders, you spot a new request:

You can't help but smile at the dramatic flourish of his signature, as if this is a royal decree rather than an internal requisition. Loki's order is… oddly normal. A small reminder that, for now, he's behaving.

Your security dashboard shows no breaches—just the usual flagged attempts at unauthorized coffee machine access (Tony, again) and one cryptic attempt to access the Tower's streaming queue labelled "Disney Classics". You don't even have to guess who that was.

Since there aren't any other important tickets, you actually find yourself looking into some plants that might suit his apartment. You order a plant with black and green leaves, that's supposed to be delivered to his apartment in the next few days.

Once you're done with all tickets and requests, there's still some time left from your official working hours.
Although no one seems to actually respect those.
You glance to the door, half expecting Loki to watch you again. Relieved that you're alone, you insert your USB in your office computer. Maybe a different screen will help.

You squint at the pixels until your eyes ache, clicking through frame after frame, zooming in until the image is all blur and grain. Even checking the colour code—icy, cold, unmistakably blue. Even when you run the colour picker over different moments, in different light, it's always the same.

Your own reflection stares back at you in the monitor. There's no trick of light, no secret setting, no camera flaw you can blame.  A wave of frustration—mixed with curiosity—washes over you. There's no way to prove it to anyone else. Just your own memory, vivid and insistent.

Then, a small notification pops up at the corner of your screen—a message on the internal chat system.

You're startled by his message, almost dropping your tea cup—not your favourite luckily. As if he knows exactly what you're doing. As if he's inviting you to admit it—or daring you to find him. Then you open the messenger to answer him.

The moment you send your message, you catch yourself smiling—despite your best efforts not to. The exchange is oddly pleasant, almost like a game you're both playing.

You call it a day, later than expected due to the footage and your conversation with Thor, and wander back to your apartment. You decide to have dinner in your small kitchen, alone with your questions you can't quite let go. Eventually you head to bed, sleep coming slowly, your mind caught somewhere between curiosity and caution.

Chapter Text

The night doesn't leave you rested. Too many questions and piercing, green eyes haunting your dreams. You shower, get ready for work, grab your bag and head to the community kitchen.

The kitchen is already alive with the sounds of breakfast—Thor humming to himself as he piles pancakes onto plates, Tony fiddling with the coffee machine, Nat quietly scrolling through her phone at the counter, Bruce reading the paper, and Steve offering polite small talk to anyone who'll listen.
Loki sits at the end of the table again, posture elegant, gaze sharp.

The conversation starts off playful: Thor jokes about Midgardian cuisine and Tony fires back about Asgardian dishes.
Loki smirks, adding, »At least Asgardian food has flavour. Your pancakes taste like dust and regret.«

Tony grins, »That's just because you've never had them with real maple syrup. You'd be amazed what science can do for your taste buds.«
He waggles the syrup bottle in Loki's direction.

Loki's lips curl with amusement. »Yes, I've seen what your science can do—usually right before it explodes.«

You try to hide your smile at his remark behind your mug. But he notices, of course. His impossible green eyes locking with yours for a fraction, expression unreadable.
Thor laughs as well, but Tony's smile sharpens.

»Exploding's half the fun. At least I don't lose to a bunch of mortals in questionable fashion.«
The room stills for a beat. You see Nat's eyes flicker between them, cautious. Bruce lowers his newspaper just a fraction, looking wary. Even Steve, ever the peacemaker, stays silent.

Loki's eyes narrow. »And yet, you'd be surprised how easily your suits break. Perhaps you should try armour that isn't held together with stubbornness and a fragile ego.«

Tony bristles, but tries to play it cool. »Maybe if you could use your magic in here, you'd impress someone. But you'll have to settle for sarcasm instead.«

Loki stands, eyes cold, voice even.
»Next time you require my assistance, Stark, try asking your machines first. They might have better luck. If you'll excuse me, I find the company suddenly lacking.«

He sweeps from the kitchen, closing the door behind him just a fraction too harsh, leaving awkward silence in his wake.

You look around; the others are exchanging glances while Tony busies himself with his coffee, muttering, »He started it.«
Thor only shakes his head.
The rest of breakfast is subdued, the laughter gone.

Eventually, you clean your plate and head to your office, that uneasy feeling from the fight never quite leaving you. Of course, Loki's magic would be a sensitive topic…
Your workday passes without any incidents. Just the usual help desk tickets, password resets and the eternal Have you tried turning it off and back on again?. But there's no notification from Loki.

Today, you finish on time, head to your apartment to change, and join the others later for dinner. Everyone but Loki—his seat remains empty. No one mentions his absence but the atmosphere has clearly shifted. Even Tony holds back his usual bickering.

This pattern continues for a few days. Loki's absence somehow leaving an uneasy feeling you can't quite shed. You get your work done, but whenever you're not solving requests, your mind drifts to those green eyes and the questions left behind.

But today the IT gods seem merciful and don't drown you in tickets. You call it a day, grab your favourite mug as well as the book you've been meaning to read, and head to the library. Hoping for a quiet afternoon and maybe, finally, a few pages of peace.

You slip quietly into the library, grateful for the comfort and the way the velvet chairs and shelves muffle the world. Sunlight filters through the windows, catching dust motes in the warm air. You find your favourite corner, open the book that's been waiting far too long for your attention, and settle in, letting the soft flicker of pages and the scent of ink on paper fill your mind.
The library is as peaceful as ever. The only sounds are the faint hum of the AC and the creak of the armchair as you curl your legs up.

After a while, you hear soft footsteps approaching, too quiet for Thor, too self-assured for Tony, too fluid for Steve. There's a pause, and then Loki's unmistakable voice, low and careful so as not to break the spell of the library.

»Would you object if I borrowed some of your peace and quiet, guide? Or is this sanctuary reserved for mortals only?«
He waits at the door, the picture of unexpected politeness, those green eyes—real, and definitely not a trick of the light—watching you for your answer.

You almost drop your book as you see him. Maybe showing him the library wasn't a great idea.
»No, it's fine. The library is for everyone after all.«
Then a short pause.
»I ordered that plant for you, by the way,« you mention as you try to continue reading.

Loki inclines his head, a faint smile ghosting across his lips.
»How considerate of you, guide. I suppose even a villain's lair deserves a touch of life. It arrived at my chambers already.«

He moves quietly between the shelves, choosing a book almost at random before settling into the armchair across from you. For a few moments, there's only the soft rustle of pages as you both pretend to be absorbed in your reading—though you're acutely aware of his presence, and he seems equally aware of yours.

After a while, he glances up, curiosity flickering in those unmistakably green eyes.
»Did you choose something you've read before, or do you prefer the unknown?«
His tone is softer here, in this safe space, almost hesitant, as if testing the edges of a truce.

You glance up at him, over the edge of your book. »It's a new book. Part of a series I've started reading, I'm currently at the second volume.« Then you add, hesitantly »What are you reading?«

Loki lifts the book, showing you the cover—a collection of old Norse myths, worn and a little faded, as if it's been through many hands before.
»Curiosity,« he says quietly, »and a bit of nostalgia, I suppose. I like to see how mortals tell our stories.« There's a faint wryness in his smile. »They're almost always wrong, but sometimes the mistakes are interesting.«

He glances down at the page, fingers tracing a line before looking back at you.
»I prefer new stories, too. They remind me the world is always changing—whether the old gods like it or not.«
He lets his eyes linger on yours for a moment, gentler now, before adding, »Let me know if your series is worth the journey. I could use a good distraction.« The words are sincere, like he's genuinely interested.

You tense slightly at his request. Thinking just now about what kind of story you're reading exactly. But you just have a weak spot for fantasy smut.
You lift the book higher to hide your blush as you speak.
»Maybe you should start reading Harry Potter first. That's a good series as well.«

Loki's lips twitch in clear amusement as he notes how quickly you hide behind your book, but he doesn't press, only arching an eyebrow at your suggestion.
»Ah, Harry Potter. Wizards, dragons, hidden worlds…« He leans back, considering. »A solid recommendation, though I'm not sure the hat would know what to do with me.«

You lower your book to meet his gaze over the edge and deadpan »Slytherin. Definitely Slytherin.«

Loki's smile widens, a spark of pride in his eyes. »Slytherin, is it? I'll take that as a compliment.«
He taps the cover of his own book. »Ambition, cunning, a touch of mischief… I suppose I'd fit right in.«
He seems pleased by the comparison, almost flattered by your quick judgment.
And you can't help but smile slightly at his reaction, it wasn't even meant as a compliment.

He lets the silence settle again, companionable rather than awkward.
»Perhaps we could trade, one day. I'll let you borrow a myth or two, and you can show me what mortals find so captivating about chosen ones and their magical destinies.«
There's a playful glint in his eyes, but no malice—just genuine curiosity and the faintest edge of challenge.
Then, almost as an afterthought, he adds, »And don't worry. I won't ask about your current reading material… unless you'd like to share.«
The corners of his mouth lift in a knowing, teasing smile, but he returns to his own book. For now.

You shift in your seat under his knowing expression. Surely, he wouldn't be able to recognize the cover of a Midgardian fantasy book, right?
You hesitate but say »Well, we could trade… But I'm not so sure if that quite fits your taste.«

He glances at your book again, clearly amused by your wariness.
»Taste is subjective. You'd be surprised what I find interesting, especially when it comes to stories mortals hold dear. Besides,« he adds, leaning back with that easy confidence, »the best tales are often the ones you least expect to enjoy.«
His tone is warm and inviting, more open than you've ever seen him.
»One day, then—a book trade.« He holds out a hand, as if sealing a pact. »I promise not to judge your taste… too harshly.«

»And what kind of books do you like to read? Apart from Norse mythology full of mortal mistakes?« you tease, but you're actually curious about what a god might read.

Loki relaxes into the velvet chair, considering your question with unusual honesty.
»Stories with cleverness, always,« he says quietly, a thoughtful lilt to his voice. »I like tales where the hero wins by wit, not just by strength. Tricksters, liars, those who dance around the edges of the rules and surprise everyone—including themselves.«
He glances down at his book, then back at you.
»I enjoy a bit of darkness, too. Tragedies, impossible choices… stories where happy endings are earned, not given. And poetry, when I'm in the right mood.«
He gives a faint, almost sheepish smile, as if poetry is a secret he rarely admits to.

»But I'm curious about Midgardian tastes as well. Sometimes your stories show me things even I would never have imagined.« He shrugs, eyes glinting with humour. »You mortals can be wonderfully unpredictable.«

A beat, then: »So, guide… do you read for happy endings, or the kind that leave you thinking?«

»Hmm…,« you think for a moment about his question.
»When I start a book, I won't know if there's a happy ending yet. I guess I read for the journey, the struggles... And hope the ending is a happy one.«

Loki's smile grows softer, more genuine, as if he's caught off guard by your answer. He regards you for a moment, as if weighing your words, then nods thoughtfully.
»That's a wise way to read,« he murmurs. »To hope for the best, but find meaning in the chaos along the way.«
He seems to consider this for himself, eyes distant for a heartbeat—then focuses on you again, that hint of warmth still in his gaze.

»Perhaps I should read more like that. I tend to anticipate the worst, and then act surprised when it comes true.«
There's a quiet honesty in his tone, something vulnerable tucked beneath the wit.
He taps the cover of his book. »Maybe you'll help me pick my next story, when you're finished with yours. If I'm to survive among mortals, I should learn what gives you hope.«
He says it with a soft smile, the playful mask just barely in place.

His honesty catches you a little off guard.
»I can try and look for one you might like... Do you read fantasy...? I'm afraid my private bookshelf doesn't have much non-fiction. None at all to be honest...«

Loki's eyes light with genuine interest, and he leans forward just a little.
»Fantasy is the closest your world gets to magic, isn't it?« His lips curl into a real smile, the kind that reaches his eyes. »I enjoy seeing how mortals imagine the impossible—sometimes you're surprisingly accurate.«
He waves a hand dismissively.
»I have little use for non-fiction these days. Reality is overrated, and your world's truths are often stranger than any story.« There's a warmth in his voice, as if your bookshelf—quirks and all—has somehow earned his approval.

»I would trust your recommendation, guide,« he adds. »Even if it's a bit… out of my usual taste.«
His eyes hold yours a moment longer, a playful, sincere spark behind the invitation.
»And if it helps you sleep at night, I promise not to tease you—much—about your choices.«

You offer him a wry smile. »Oh, you're so generous, Mischief. Then maybe I won't judge yours either.«
Your book rests almost forgotten in your lap now. Fingers marking the place where you left off.

Loki's grin grows wider, unmistakably pleased at your teasing in return. »A fair bargain, guide.«
He leans back, relaxing fully into the velvet chair.
»Then it's settled. We'll exchange favourites—no judgment, only curiosity.« His tone is light, but the look in his eyes is sincere.

He opens his book again, but before turning the page, he glances at you one last time.
»And if you ever tire of fantasy… well, real magic isn't so far out of reach, you know.«
There's a glint of mischief there, but also something warmer.

At the mention of magic, you grow a bit more thoughtful. The memory from the argument between him and Tony still lingering in your thoughts. But still, you don't dare to comment on it.

You return to your books, and for a while the only sounds in the silent library are the flick of pages and the soft clink of now empty mugs on the table.
Eventually you glance on your phone to check the time, then hesitate a moment, unsure if you should offer.
»Should we join the others for dinner or would you still want to read a bit more…?«

Loki looks up at your question, closing his book with a gentle snap. There's a faint smile—something between appreciation and relief—at the invitation.
»I suppose we should grace them with our presence,« he says, his tone teasing but light. Then he stands, stretching with lazy elegance. »But next time, you'll have to tell me about your book. Deal?«

The promise of a next time makes your heart flutter ever so slightly. You accept his deal—surely your book won't get too spicy, or so you hope. The first book was mostly safe.

As you and Loki walk side by side toward the kitchen, the late-day light casts long, golden shadows down the corridor. There's an easy rhythm to your steps—neither of you in a rush.

When you enter, the kitchen is already a lively scene. Thor is at the stove, apron tied crookedly over his broad chest, singing some unrecognizable Asgardian tune as he flips what might be pancakes… or possibly something experimental. Nat sits at the counter, helping herself to olives, while Steve and Tony argue over newspapers vs phones. Bruce is making a salad, wearing a look of wary amusement at Thor's culinary creativity.

Thor's face lights up when he sees you both.
»Ah! There you are! Loki, you finally decided to join us again!«

Tony leans around Steve to give you a wink. »You brought our stray god. I was starting to take bets on whether he'd show up at all.«

Nat gestures to an open seat beside her, making room for you. »You missed the part where Thor tried to put hot sauce in the pancake mix. I think we talked him down,« she says with a teasing smirk towards Thor.

There's a warmth to the room, now replacing the uneasy feeling you had for the past few days.
You laugh at Nat's comment and take the offered seat beside her.
Loki smoothly takes the seat opposite of you, just close enough to join the conversation but with a clear line of sight to you—perhaps for the pleasure of watching your reactions. He offers an exaggerated bow to Thor and a sly wink in your direction as he sits.

As dinner begins, there's the usual chaos—Thor serving far too much food, Tony making dramatic complaints, Natasha quietly swapping stories with Steve, and Bruce doing his best to referee. But tonight, it feels lighter.
Loki's comments are biting, yes, but more playful than cruel, earning laughs even from Thor, who grins at his brother's antics.

You realize you're smiling more than you have the past week, your earlier worries drifting away with the warmth of the people who somehow became like family. And Loki..
Every so often, his eyes meet yours—green, secretive, and shining with mischief—but this time, there's something gentler behind them.

Eventually, you leave the laughter and warmth of the kitchen behind, the sound of Thor's booming voice and Tony's sarcasm fading into the hush of the hallway. For the first time since Loki's arrival, you feel genuinely at ease—like the Tower is a little less chaotic.

The corridors are peaceful, only the low hum of the Tower joining you. When you reach your apartment door, you pause for a moment, smiling to yourself.
Inside, your space is calm and familiar. You set down your things, kick off your shoes, and for a moment, you stand by the window, looking out over the city's shimmering lights.

Then you remember your conversation about swapping books and come to a halt in front of your bookshelf to find something suitable. You skip all the obvious smut and pick the first book of your series. A Court of Thorns and Roses was very light on the spice and the second book has been as well. For now. Surely it will be fine to lend him. It won't.

As you settle in for the night, your mind turns over the memory of those eyes—unmistakably green, alive and present compared to every icy blue frame you've seen in the footage. The question still haunts you, but exhaustion finally wins and pulls you under.

Your dreams are strange but not unpleasant: shifting shadows, glimmers of emerald and gold, and the unmistakeable sound of Loki's voice.
Somewhere in the haze, you hear a whisper, »Some truths are better seen up close.«

Chapter Text

You wake before sunrise, the city already silently humming outside when an idea crosses your mind. What if you didn't check the right footage yet? You were so focused on Loki that it's possible you might have missed something.

You grab your USB again and head straight to the living room in your oversized shirt and sweatpants. The tower is still asleep, so no one should see you this time. You insert it but shift your focus to everyone else on the screen.

As the footage plays on the big TV, the empty living room feels strangely vast and quiet in the pre-dawn light. You scrub through scenes, Hawkeye under Loki's influence, Dr. Selvig as well. Their eyes on the recordings are all the same: a cold, unnatural blue.
It's almost eerie, the way every little reflection catches that same inhuman shade, like a trick of the lens or a trick of the mind.
But you know Clint's real eye colour. And you've seen Dr. Selvig up close, too. Neither match what the footage shows.

A pattern emerges. Whenever Loki is at his most dangerous—wielding the sceptre, bending others to his will—everyone's eyes on camera turn that same icy blue. But in reality, outside the battle and the cameras, things aren't so simple. Maybe you could ask Nat about it later, after breakfast. She is close to Clint and even had to fight him during the battle of New York.

You're so deep in thoughts, you don't hear the quiet footsteps at the doorway. But then there's Loki, leaning against the frame, arms folded, head tilted in that infuriating way of his—still in dark, soft loungewear, hair just a little mussed. Looking far too elegant, even in that kind of clothing.

»Early morning epiphanies, guide?« he drawls, lips quirking. »Or are you planning to take over the Tower one USB at a time?«
He doesn't seem angry—if anything, there's a flicker of amusement and the faintest trace of approval at your diligence.

You're startled as his voice suddenly breaks the silence. »Loki, why are you up so soon?!«
Unsure how to react to him finding you immersed in the footage—again—you remember Thor's advice.
»I was missing your face already and I was hoping I could swoon over the footage—undisturbed,« you manage with a wry smile, somehow without blushing. Using his own tricks and charms against him for once. Or trying to, at least.

Loki blinks in mild surprise at your retort, then grins—slow and genuine, like a cat caught pleasantly off guard. He pushes away from the doorframe, padding closer with a new lightness in his step.
»Oh, is that so?« he says, voice smooth with mock gravity.
»I'm flattered. Though I must say, the real thing is rather more captivating than any old battle footage.«
He sweeps a hand through his hair with practiced nonchalance, glancing at the paused screen.
»But if you insist on reliving my greatest hits at dawn, at least allow me to provide live commentary.«
He drops onto the arm of the sofa, arms folded, green eyes glittering.

You try not to stare at him, as he runs a hand through his hair—you really do.
No one should be allowed to look that good in basic loungewear.
Not even a god. Damn!

He notices—of course he does. His smirk twitches like he just read your thoughts.
»So, guide, what new evidence have you uncovered in your obsessive investigation?«
His tone is teasing, but there's genuine curiosity in the question. You can sense it: he knows you're onto something.

»Well...« you start, trying not to let anything show through. »I have found some proof of remarkably sharp cheekbones; they might have been used to cut cables important for the security system. And unfortunately, Stark didn't have me back then,« you wink, rising to quickly grab your USB from the TV.

Loki lets out a soft laugh, genuinely delighted by your response.
»Ah, my most dangerous weapon—who knew it was my own face?« He gives you a playful, appraising look, clearly enjoying your game.
»I assure you; Stark's systems would have fallen regardless. But perhaps you would've given me a proper challenge.«

He rises from the arm of the sofa, moving with that effortless, almost theatrical grace, and stands just close enough to make your heart race—but not so close as to crowd you.
»You know, guide, you're getting quite good at this. I might even start to worry you'll out-mischief me one of these days.«
He watches you pocket the USB, eyebrow arched.

»Well, maybe guiding the trickster rubs off on me a little.«
You watch him closing the distance between you. Not in fear, but your heart is racing, still.

Loki's lips curve into a knowing smirk, clearly enjoying every second of your clever deflection.
»So it does,« he replies, voice low and smooth. »Just don't let it go to your head, guide. Mischief is addictive.«
Then he pauses, glancing at the screen before meeting your eyes again.
»But don't think I haven't noticed your questions. You found something in that footage, didn't you? Something you can't quite explain.«
He leans in a little, dropping his voice to a low, conspiratorial murmur. »Careful, now. Some mysteries are best left unsolved.«
He makes it sound like a warning.
And a dare.

Your breath almost hitches in your throat but you try to play it off. »I don't know what you're talking about, Loki... And I also need to get dressed properly before breakfast,« you try to deflect.

He doesn't press, just lets the charged silence linger between you for a beat, as if testing how much of the game you're willing to play.
»Very well,« he says lightly, straightening, »I'll let you change out of your… mortal camouflage. Wouldn't want to scandalize the others.«
His gaze lingers just a moment longer on your oversized shirt, then flicks back up to meet your eyes—mischief, and just a little challenge mixed together.

He steps aside, gesturing grandly toward the hallway.
»Until breakfast, then. Unless, of course, you want more live commentary on my—how did you put it? Sharp cheekbones.«
The playful invitation hangs in the air as he heads for the kitchen, leaving you alone with your USB and your racing heart.

»I rather watch my movies without live commentary,« you call after him as his footsteps fade.

You hear Loki's soft, amused laughter echo down the hall as you make your escape to your apartment. By the time you return—this time dressed and a little more composed—the kitchen is already humming with the familiar morning chaos.

Thor is pouring coffee into a mug far too small for his hand, while Tony tries to adjust the settings on the toaster with the intensity of a man disarming a bomb. Steve and Bruce chat quietly by the fridge, and Nat is the first to notice you slip in.

Loki stands at the counter, now looking entirely put together, tea in hand and an unreadable expression on his face—though his eyes glimmer with mischief as they meet yours. There's no sign of your earlier fluster, at least not for anyone but him.

Thor greets you with a cheerful wave.
»There you are! We were just saying breakfast wasn't complete without you.«
Nat smirks over the rim of her coffee, and Tony eyes you and Loki with a suspicious squint, as if trying to catch the punchline of a joke he's missed.

Loki lifts his cup in a subtle toast, mouthing »sharp cheekbones« just for you, before taking a sip, trying to hide his sly grin.
You glare at him and walk to the counter, right next to Loki, and prepare yourself some tea in your favourite mug.
»Stop that,« you hush so only he can hear. Then you turn to take your usual seat next to Nat.

Loki's lips twitch with a suppressed grin, and he leans just slightly closer as you pass, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial murmur only you can catch: »As you wish, guide. For now.«

When you sit beside Nat, you feel his gaze linger for a heartbeat, then slip away as he folds seamlessly into the breakfast banter.
Natasha glances at you, a subtle smirk hinting that she's picked up on more than you'd like to admit, but she doesn't say a word—just sips her coffee, eyebrow raised in silent amusement.

Breakfast carries on as usual: Thor's booming laughter, Tony's complaints about the toast, and Loki's razor-sharp asides. And underneath it all, an invisible thread of curiosity and mischief.

Later, when most of the others are busy cleaning up after themselves, you lean closer to Nat. Glancing over to Loki for a mere second. But of course, he noticed—again. Damn!
Then you whisper to her: »Nat, are you free after breakfast? I need to talk to you about something.«

Nat gives you a knowing sidelong glance, the kind that says she's already put together half the story, even if you haven't uttered a word. She nods, her tone casual but her eyes sharp and alert.
»Sure. I've got a window before training,« she murmurs, setting down her mug. »Meet you in your office, alright?«
She follows your glance to Loki—who, unsurprisingly, is still half-watching, half-pretending not to notice—and her lips quirk in a faint, understanding smile.
»Don't worry. I'm good at being discreet.«
Her hand brushes your arm in subtle reassurance, her voice just above a whisper. »I'll cover for you if you need it.«

»My office is fine, usually no one disturbs me there,« you're still whispering. And silently cursing Loki for being so attentive.
Natasha nods, lips barely moving. »Give me five minutes after breakfast«, she promises, her voice so low only you can hear.
She gives your arm a gentle squeeze, then rises to rinse her cup—already slipping into her practiced, unreadable calm.
Loki's eyes flicker toward you both, but Nat's face is casual as she falls into step with Steve and Bruce, blending in as only a spy can.

You're left with your tea, your nerves—and Loki. But you know that, whatever you share with Nat will stay strictly between you two. And across the kitchen, Loki's eyes meet yours for a moment—a silent, unreadable question in the green depths—before he turns away again.

You head to your office after cleaning your plate, Nat entering just shortly after you. She sits in the office chair across from you and tries to read you.
»So, what's going on?« She asks quietly, her voice all business but her expression open and attentive.
She leans back against the chair, giving you her full attention.
»If this is about Loki, you picked the right person. So—talk to me.«

»What? How would you know...?« You're blushing slightly despite your best efforts not to. This is, more or less, a formal, work-related conversation.
Nat's lips curve in a faint, sympathetic smile.
»You're not the first to come to me with Loki problems,« she says quietly. »And I've seen you watching him—not just with suspicion, either.«
Her eyes are gentle, not mocking, as she adds, »It's my job to notice what others don't want seen.«
She gestures for you to relax, lowering her voice further. »So, what is it? Something he did? Something you saw?«
Her tone is professional, but there's an edge of genuine care in her words, no judgement.

»No… he hasn't done anything,« you sigh again before you continue. »Okay Nat, this has to stay strictly between us. I might be on to something, but I'm not sure yet. And I'm scared I might be wrong… or even more—that I'm not.«

Natasha nods, her expression growing even more serious.
»Whatever you say stays with me,« she promises, her voice low and sure.
She leans in a little closer, keeping her posture open and nonthreatening. »You're allowed to be scared. It means you're paying attention.«
She gives you a gentle look. »But if you've noticed something off, or something important, I can help you figure out what it means.«
Her eyes remain steady, sharp yet kind.

You take a deep breath before you continue.
»Okay, this is a weird question... but you're close to Hawkeye, I mean… Clint, right? What eye colour does he have?«
Nat blinks, not expecting that question, but doesn't miss a beat.
»Clint? His eyes are hazel—sometimes greenish, sometimes brown depending on the light.«
She gives you a curious tilt of her head, trying to read your motive. »Why?«
Her voice is gentle, but her focus sharpens. »Did something happen? Or… is this about the attack?« She's connecting the dots quickly, as always.

»No, nothing happened. But you were also fighting against him at that time, right? Was there anything unusual... about his eyes? Did you notice anything?«

Natasha's expression darkens with memory, her gaze drifting to the wall behind you as she thinks back. »Yeah, I fought him. Or… tried to.«
She frowns, clearly replaying the events in her mind.
»His eyes…« She hesitates, then shakes her head. »I remember they looked off. Too light. Too cold. Almost… glassy, unnatural blue.« She glances at you, brow furrowing. »But I figured it was the mind control—Loki's sceptre, right? After he was back to himself, his eyes went back to normal.«

She leans even closer, lowering her voice to a confidential hush. »Is this about the footage? Or about Loki?« She searches your face, piecing together your concern. »What did you see?«

»I'm not sure yet...,« you mumble. »I'm sorry I can't tell you, yet. But you helped me. A lot, I think. Thank you, Nat.«

Natasha studies you for a moment, then gives a small nod—accepting your boundaries with the quiet understanding of someone who's kept plenty of her own secrets.
»Good. I'm glad I could help, even if you're not ready to talk about it.« Her voice is soft, sincere.
»If you need anything, or if you want a second pair of eyes on whatever you've found, just say the word. I trust your instincts.«

She rests a reassuring hand on your shoulder for a moment, then stands up to leave, slipping her mask of calm back into place.
»And don't worry,« she adds, with a hint of a smirk, »I won't let Loki see us talking. Wouldn't want to ruin your mysterious reputation.«
With that, she leaves you to your thoughts, alone in your office, knowing she'll keep your secrets.

Stretching in your office chair, you take a deep breath before tackling todays IT disasters. Nat's words still echoing through your mind.
You turn on your computer and open your inbox, bracing for the usual parade of tickets: Tony's Wi-Fi malfunctions, Thor's forgotten password requests, and a polite but slightly panicked message from another employee about "system updates".
You dig into your work, but your mind keeps drifting—Hawkeye's real eye colour, Natasha's memory of the blue, and, of course, the impossible green you've seen in person.
Just as you're finishing an especially tedious round of printer troubleshooting, a new message pings on your screen. The sender: Loki.

You can't help but smile. Relief, amusement, and that familiar flicker of anticipation all tangled together.
You sigh and check the time.
Since you've finished all the important tickets for the day, you might as well check out this problem in person.
Despite your lingering concerns, you can't quite seem to keep your distance.
Purely professional reasons, of course.

As you slowly make your way to his apartment, you feel your heartbeat becoming faster with every step for some reason. In front of his door, you stand for a moment, collecting yourself, then finally knock—three firm raps that echo a little louder than you intended.
There's a brief pause, then the muffled but unmistakable sound of Loki's voice from within:
»Enter, if you dare, guide.«
You can almost hear his smirk.

Maybe you should have solved this problem in remote. But it's too late now.
The door swings open at your touch. Loki stands in the middle of his apartment, hair artfully tousled, dressed in casual black, and with that hint of a smirk he wears so well. The new plant sits in a pool of sunlight on the windowsill, looking perfectly healthy. For now.

He gestures theatrically to his desk, where his computer displays the offending plant care app.
»I fear Midgardian technology refuses to recognize anything that isn't a ficus,« he says, tone mock-serious. »You see my predicament. It's a matter of botanical dignity at this point.«

He stands back, giving you full access to the computer—and a clear view of those unmistakable green eyes, watchful and amused as you step inside.
You eye him carefully but shake your head with a faint smile as you sit down in front of his computer.
»Well, unfortunately I don't exactly have a green thumb. But I do know how to operate an app,« you say teasingly.

You search for the exact plant name and enter it into his application, saving all important care instructions for him.
»There you go. Always at your service,« you huff softly, then add »Please treat it carefully, I don't want to be responsible for any plant corpses in your apartment.«

Loki watches you work, arms crossed, amusement dancing in his eyes.
»Your efficiency is as impressive as your dedication,« he says, the praise almost genuine—almost.
»It seems my plant is safe after all.«
He leans in, peering at the screen with mock gravity.
»Perhaps they should let you run the entire Tower. I daresay things would be far more… lively.«
He glances toward the little plant basking in the sun, his expression softening just a touch.
»I promise to do my best. It's good to have something to care for—other than my own ego, of course.« Loki flashes you a lopsided grin, all mischief but none of the old cruelty.

He lets the silence settle for a moment.
Then, with his usual theatrics restored, he asks, »Since you're here, shall we see if I can repay you? Library tea, live commentary, or...« he arches a single brow at you, almost like a challenge »...perhaps you just wanted to admire my sharp cheekbones up close again?«
His smirk lingers for a moment, but then his voice softens slightly. »The day is young, and your company is… unexpectedly welcome.«

You can't shake the feeling that the ticket was just a pretence to lure you here.
If Loki is as versed with technology as he claimed, he surely could have managed this app alone.

You lean back into his chair, eyeing him with mock suspicion and desperately try not to get flustered by his teasing.
»I'm not in need of live commentary, thank you.« you say dryly.
But then you hesitate for a moment, remembering yesterday's deal.
»I could give you that book if you want… I chose one for you last night. I don't have it with me right now, though.«

Loki settles on the arm of his sofa, studying you with open curiosity—and maybe a touch of something softer at your offer. »A book handpicked by my guide? I'm honoured,« he says, the amusement still audible, but he also sounds genuine.

He tilts his head, lips quirking in a sly half-smile.
»I'll look forward to it, then. We'll call it a trade: a mortal fantasy for a tale or two of old Asgard—though you must promise not to judge the dramatics.« His eyes flicker with amusement, as if he finds the idea of this exchange oddly pleasant.
He straightens, smoothing the moment over with a wry flourish. »But, if you change your mind about that live commentary, I promise to make even plant care riveting. Until then, I'll endeavour to keep my new charge alive—and await your literary judgment.«

You simply shake your head in amusement, ignoring his antics.
»Then I'll get that book now. Should I meet you at the library?«

He considers your question for a moment, then leans forward, conspiratorial. »Library sounds just fine. No interruptions, and a fitting place for such a momentous exchange.«
There's a glint of mischief in his eyes, but beneath it, you sense real anticipation.
He gives you a little bow, all charm and playfulness. »Don't keep me waiting too long, or I'll be forced to write a tragic poem about impatience.«

You can't help but smile at his dramatic demeanour.
»Okay, I'll see you there,« you say and hurry back to your apartment.

As you slip out, you hear Loki call after you, his tone teasing but bright: »But don't rush on my account—anticipation is half the delight!«
You pause halfway down the hallway, pulse fluttering with excitement.
It's only a book, you try to remind yourself. Only an afternoon in the library. But knowing that he'll be there—waiting—makes you smile, a little too wide, as you continue on your way.

Chapter Text

You retrieve A Court of Thorns and Roses from your shelf, your pulse fluttering with a mix of excitement and nervousness. There's something strangely exciting about sharing this book with Loki—like you're letting him into a private part of your world.

When you reach the library, the door is slightly ajar. Sunlight slants across the velvet chairs and shelves. The steam of tea already curling on the coffee table.
Loki is settled comfortably on the sofa with his legs crossed, looking every bit at ease—though his eyes brighten when he sees you.

He stands, offering an exaggerated bow as if you've arrived for a royal audience.
»My guide returns—and with treasure, I hope?« His voice is warm, the edges of mischief softened by genuine anticipation.
»Let's see what magic you've brought me.«

You approach him without hesitation this time.
»Treasure it is,« you smile and hand the book to him. »What do I get in return, Mischief?«

Loki accepts the book with a little flourish, turning it over in his hands as if weighing something precious. He glances up from the book to meet your gaze, emerald eyes alight with gratitude and a teasing edge.
»You, guide, are owed a tale of Asgard—one not found in your Midgardian books.«
He settles back into the cushions, patting the seat beside him, an invitation for you to join him.

You hesitate for a moment before accepting the offered seat. Your shoulders nearly brush, and you can feel the warmth radiating off his skin. Beneath the lingering aroma of tea, you now notice a different scent.
Not just the familiar notes of pages and ink.
But crisp winter air in a snowy forest, threaded with a hint of petrichor—the scent of rain—and something faintly spiced.
Loki's scent, you realize. And it's strangely grounding.

Loki grins, clearly delighted by your choice to sit next to him.
»You may choose: a story of cleverness, of danger, or of secrets never spoken in any library.«
He taps the book's cover lightly, smile lingering. »And perhaps, you'll let me borrow the next one, too. Fair trade?«
He waits for your answer, book in hand, clearly ready to make good on his promise.

»A story from the God of Mischief? I'm honoured,« you say with a wry smile. »Then tell me something about danger. And I'll give you the next book as well once I've finished reading it.«

»Danger, then. An excellent choice. And I do hope you savour every page before you let me have the next one—anticipation, remember?« His voice is smooth, full of promise.

He leans back, turning your book thoughtfully in his hands.
»There was a night in Asgard—long before your Avengers ever heard my name—when the palace was under threat. Not from giants or dragons, but from a single intruder who slipped past every guard and spell. No one could catch him. My brother, of course, was ready to smash first and ask questions later.«
His eyes glint with wicked humour.
»But I knew better. Sometimes, the most dangerous thing in a palace isn't the monster at the gate, but the secret in the shadows. I set a trap—one only a trickster could escape. When I finally cornered the intruder, I found… myself. Well, a mirror image, conjured by old, wild magic.«

His gaze lingers on you, voice lowering.
»You see, guide, sometimes the real danger isn't what others bring through your walls. It's what you find in yourself—if you're brave enough to look.«
He gives you a slow, sly smile. »A lesson for mortals and gods alike. Now, is it a true story, or just a fable? I'll let you decide.«

You think about his words for a moment, until a wry smile forms on your lips.
»So, the real danger is always the God of Mischief himself. And now I'm alone with him in a library. Should I be worried?« You ask, but somehow you don't feel afraid at all.

Loki's grin grows wider, equal parts wolfish and amused.
»You do live dangerously, guide,« he murmurs, leaning in just enough for the moment to feel charged, his eyes gleaming with delight.
»But perhaps you've learned a few tricks of your own, hm? After all, you're still here—unscathed, and possibly even a little entertained.«
He taps the cover of the book you gave him, then looks back at you, his voice dropping to something almost soft: »Besides, the library is the safest place for secrets. Or the best place for new ones to begin.«

He leans back, satisfaction radiating from him.
»If you ever find yourself bored with ordinary danger, you know where to find me. I promise, there are far more interesting risks than getting lost in a book.«
His smile lingers, playful and a little inviting.

»Yeah, I suppose you're right. But as long as it's not the usual danger of security branches or Tony unable to operate his coffee machine, I suppose it's not that bad…« you laugh and lean into your seat next to him. Finally opening your book.

Loki lets out a quiet, genuine laugh at your remark, the sound low and warm.
»Compared to Stark's coffee disasters, I'm practically a safe bet,« he replies, his tone softening into something companionable. »And I have yet to threaten you with pop tarts or printer errors, so I'd say you're faring well.«

He opens A Court of Thorns and Roses with an exaggerated sense of ceremony, casting a sidelong glance at you. For a while, the two of you read in easy silence, shoulders almost touching, the quiet of the library wrapping around you like a spell. Occasionally, he turns a page with deliberate grace, as if savouring the act itself.

Every so often, you catch him glancing at you over the top of his book, his green eyes softer and curious.
Occasionally you tilt your book away, just slightly. So he can't catch a glimpse during the… spicier scenes. Maybe it wasn't wise to lend him the first volume when you hadn't even finished the second one yet.
There's a playful glint in his eye, as if he's aware of the spicier scenes to come and is greatly looking forward to your reaction when he reaches them. But he doesn't call you out on it.

»How far along are you in the book? I know it's all beauty and the beast at the beginning but it's worth to keep reading.« you ask him, curious about his opinion so far.

Loki's lips curl into an amused, knowing smile as he lowers the book just enough to meet your gaze. »You mortals do love your cursed princes and wild magic bargains,« he teases lightly.
»I see the appeal. There's something… honest about wanting the monster to be more than what the world says he is.«
He glances at the bookmarked page. »I'm only a few chapters in, but your recommendation carries weight. I can already see that not everything is as it first appears—and I do appreciate a story that knows how to keep its secrets.«

He leans in a little, lowering his voice conspiratorially:
»But tell me, guide—how did you come to favour tales of dangerous men who turn out to have hidden hearts?«
The question is teasing, but there's an undercurrent of curiosity.

You blush at his question, caught a little off guard.
»Well, I suppose I'm a sucker for slow burn stories. Enemies to lovers and that kind of stuff...,« you admit sheepishly.

Loki's grin turns soft and even pleased at your admission, a spark of understanding lighting his eyes.
»Ah, so you like your danger with a side of longing and just the right amount of tension,« he teases, his voice gentle.
»I can't say I blame you. Stories like that have a way of making the risk worth it.«
He glances back at his book, then at you, his expression thoughtful.
»There's something delicious about two people circling each other, isn't there? Never quite sure if it'll end in a kiss… or a knife in the back.«

»I'd rather have a kiss than a knife in my back.« you mutter under your breath, blush daring to creep over your cheeks.
Loki catches your mumbled words, of course he does, and a slow, delighted smile tugs at his lips.

He gives you a sidelong look, playful and curious.
»And you say you're not drawn to danger. I think there's more mischief in you than you care to admit, guide.«
He leans a bit closer, lowering his voice in a mock whisper, »Should I be worried for my own heart by the end of this series?«

You tense at his implication and cough slightly. Trying to keep your composure, or what's left of it.
»I'm sure you'll like the series. Maybe you'll lose it to one of the characters,« you try to deflect.
Trying to appear unaffected.
But fail.

He leans back just enough to let you catch your breath, but his eyes never leave yours. Then taps the book's cover, considering your last remark.
»If any character does win my heart, I'll let you know. But I suspect it's the guide who loaned me the book who'll make the most lasting impression.«

He softens the moment with a gentle, genuine note.
»Thank you for sharing this with me. Truly. It's not every day I get a story chosen for me.«
He glances away, feigning nonchalance as he returns to his reading, but there's an unmistakable warmth in his expression.

You try to focus on your pages again, still flustered, but his last words linger.
»You're welcome, Mischief,« you say softly.
Loki smiles quietly at your words, sensing the shift in the air between you. He pretends to read for a moment, but you can feel the weight of his gaze, warm and thoughtful, as if he's just as distracted as you are.

The two of you manage to read a few more chapters until you check the time and sigh quietly, surprised at how quickly the afternoon slipped away since it's already time for dinner. The library feels warmer now—cosier, almost hard to leave.

Loki notices your glance, a knowing half-smile touching his lips.
»Duty calls,« he says, closing his book and tucking it under his arm. »But I'll leave the rest of the chapter for later. I wouldn't want to rush a good story.«
He stands, offering you a hand to help you up—half chivalry, half challenge, as if daring you to take it.

»Shall we go, guide? I suspect Thor will come looking for us if we're late, and I have no intention of explaining romance novels to him over dinner.«
His eyes linger on yours, warm and just a little mischievous, as if this ordinary moment in the library has become its own kind of secret.

»Oh, I doubt Thor remembers the way to the library. He's not exactly a frequent visitor,« you laugh softly and reach for his offered hand, trying not to savour the contact. But your world narrows down to the cool press of his fingers against yours.

Loki laughs with you, the sound genuine and bright.
»A tragedy for Asgardian culture, truly,« he murmurs, holding your hand just a heartbeat longer than necessary before letting go with a gentle squeeze.
The loss of contact leaves your skin tingling, it's ridiculous but you already miss the touch.

He gestures for you to lead the way, but falls into step beside you, matching your pace as you walk through the quiet halls toward the chaos of the kitchen. Every so often, your hands brush, a light touch that feels almost accidental—but never quite is.

You reach the kitchen to find the others already gathered, the room filled with the scents of food and the comfortable noise of friends.
Tony looks up and smirks, »Well, if it isn't our resident book club,« earning a conspiratorial glance from Natasha and a delighted bellow from Thor.

Loki just arches an eyebrow, all unbothered elegance, but his smile lingers as you walk to your usual place at the table and he takes his seat across from you.

»You know Tony, reading a book for a change wouldn't hurt. Same goes for you, Thor,« you tease them back as you take your seat next to Nat, helping yourself with some of the food.

Tony grins, leaning back in his chair with a dramatic sigh.
»I read plenty, thank you—just happens to be schematics, not smut.«
He winks at you, earning a snort from Natasha and a scandalized gasp from Steve, who's nearly dropped his fork.

You blush at his remark.
»I don't read smut!«
A beat.
»…exclusively…,« you add, mumbling under your breath.
Across the table, Loki catches your mumbled words, of course. A secret smile tugging at his lips, green eyes bright with mischief and a trace of something softer.

Tony raises an eyebrow, smirk widening as he pretends to mishear.
»Oh, exclusively, huh? Well, that explains why you're always in such a good mood after library time.«
Natasha snorts into her drink, and Steve tries valiantly to hide a smile.
Thor, meanwhile, just looks confused and utterly oblivious. »What is smut? Is it a kind of Midgardian magic?«

Loki's eyes glint with laughter as he leans just a bit closer, voice pitched low for your ears alone:
»Don't worry, guide. Your secret's safe with me. And I'll be sure to give you a full report on every spicy chapter.«
You groan at his offer, blushing even harder and whisper back »Please don't.«
Then you turn to Thor, amused by his innocence: »I'll tell you once you're older.«

Loki gives you mock innocent look, but there's a clear delight in teasing you.
The whole table erupts into friendly laughter, as you hide your blush behind your mug.
Thor's confusion only grows, but he laughs along, trusting you'll explain—someday.
»Very well! I look forward to it!« he declares, completely earnest.

Loki gives you a conspiratorial wink before turning his attention to the rest of the table, falling easily into the next round of teasing and banter.

Fortunately, the topic soon shifts—Tony and Bruce get into a playful debate about the optimal temperature for coffee, Steve tries (and fails) to convince Thor that football is "a sport, not a battle", and Natasha quietly passes you the breadbasket with a subtle, sympathetic smile.

Loki seems content to let the smut conversation rest, for now, offering only the occasional sly glance your way. Dinner naturally winds down in laughter and good-natured bickering.
Eventually, everyone says their goodnights and you stand to head back to your apartment.
Loki gives you a parting nod, eyes glimmering with something soft and secret.
»Sleep well, guide,« he murmurs, just loud enough for you.

Your apartment welcomes you with the quiet hush you've come to appreciate after long, chaotic days. You slip off your shoes and settle by the window for a while, city lights twinkling below, the easy conversations still echoing in your ears.
As you get ready for bed, you realize you're smiling to yourself. Sleep finds you quickly—deeper and warmer than it has in a while.
Tomorrow, there will be new mysteries… and, if you're lucky, a little more time in the library with a certain green-eyed god.