Archive of Our Own

The first try is at your apartment.

Provided by SHIELD, it’s your temporary place while you’re working with the team—The Team.

The Avengers, Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, pictured on every TV worldwide, depicted on collectible merchandising everywhere, and now obviously too famous to get anything accomplished under cover.

The only superpower you have came by circumstance. Neat little alien tech practically falls in your lap by pure coincidence, some thick metal gadget that latched onto your wrist when you touched it, and now no one can get it off.

It comes with its perks. You went from being a part of the average, everyday population to being pulled into the world of secret agents and invaders from space and the powerhouses that protect the planet.

Field training was not easy, and you were not exceptional. You’re no Clint Barton or Natasha Romanoff, no super spy. But you aren’t useless, either.

You wouldn’t call yourself part of the team, though. Official and unofficial “Avengers” come and go. And as much as you love these people--these heroes that you work with, that you’ve even come to know on a personal level, maybe just a bit--it still feels rather like a private club that you aren’t a part of.

Maybe that feeling will come with time?

Part of you doesn’t think so. Part of you thinks these people will always be idols, and you might not be able to be yourself with them, however much you try. It’s like meeting a celebrity; you play it cool, try to act natural, but no matter how many times you meet you can’t shake the feeling of being both starstruck and disillusioned.

They make you feel important when they look at you. Then they turn around and go about their work, and you know they don’t think of you. Not one of them. Like that friend by association in school, who knows their friendship isn’t as important to others as it is to them.

It’s lonely.

But you aren’t here to make friends, are you? You’re here to work. Not because of what you’ve done, not because of who you are, but because you picked up some alien bracelet that now won’t let you go. If it would, you wouldn’t be welcome anymore. They would have called you civilian and sent you home, not to a crash course in field training because they can’t get rid of you, so why not use you? It’s you, not the bracelet, that is the accessory.

You aren’t special.

Which is why it’s so surprising the first time he tries. When he comes for you.

He simply knocks. Walks up and knocks.

And you open the door, expecting the fast food you ordered, to find Loki standing there, brown bag of Chinese in hand, smile on his face.

“Your order.”

You stare at him for several silent seconds, not at all sure how to react.

You have basic training—very basic—and are not at all equipped to handle the God of Mischief. And this is definitely him; you’ve seen the files. But the closest thing to emergency alerts is your cell phone, as nobody really thought setting up your apartment with high security was a priority. After all, who’d come after you? No one was supposed to know who you were, who you now worked for, let alone what you possess. Complete non-threat, that’s the cover.

Loki glances around, lips thinning, before looking at you expectantly. “Um, you did pay by card, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” You answer reflexively, still going over how this scenario should go in your head. Gotta call backup. No sudden movements.

He shakes his head, brows rising. “Theeeeeen here you go?”

He wiggles the bag in front of you. Did he poison your rice? That was good takeout. Jerk.

You snatch up the bag, slightly annoyed but knowing there isn’t actually anything you can do against the Asgardian prince.

“What do you want?” you finally ask, breathing slowly.

“Um, a tip? And coffee, if you’re offering. It was a long drive.” He laughs, but it trails off as you continue to stare. “Sorry. That was a joke. I’m joking. And you’re not laughing—I should probably shut up and just … go.”

“Why?” You can’t help but ask.

“Why should I go?” He seems to think this is an odd thing to ask.

“Why did you even come up here if you’re just leaving?” It seems like a bad thing to ask someone who could kill you with ease. If the bad guy is leaving, let him leave!

Loki frowns. “To deliver your food? That’s normally what delivery boys do.”

Delivery boy?

It clicks. He’s in disguise. Probably shrouded in some illusion.

And illusions don’t work on you—because of the bracelet.

He should have changed his shape, not used an illusion. Then you wouldn’t have known the difference. As it is, he doesn’t seem to know that you know exactly who he is.

You really have no idea what to do with this information.

And did he actually poison the rice?

“It’s … pretty late,” you say, formulating at least half a plan as you speak. “Are you off work soon?”

He seems surprised you’d ask. “Why yes, actually. I was just making this run on my way home.”

“Still want that coffee?”

And that’s how you got the God of Mischief pretending to be a delivery boy sipping decaf on your sofa at almost ten o’clock at night. Half a plan. What now?

The Chinese takeout remains untouched on the kitchen counter, almost but not quite out of sight as you join your … captive? That’s a stretch. Guest?

“I will not sleep with you.”

“What?” Having been trying to figure out how to call for backup without him knowing, the statement catches you off guard.

Loki tips his mug at you then sips his coffee. “Letting a stranger into your apartment late at night is not something most people do, unless this is kinky or something. And I’m just telling you straight, I am not into that, thank you. Coffee’s good, though.”

He looks completely serious for all of ten seconds before his face cracks into a grin and he tries to stifle his own laughter. “I’m kidding again, I’m sorry, I should stop.”

One of the most powerful beings in the universe is practically giggling on your couch. The part of you honed and trained by government agents that has been keeping you on guard and rather terrified since you answered the door is partially buried, suddenly, beneath the absurdity of this.

Trickster god. Cracking jokes. On your sofa.

You snort, then try to hide it behind your hand and look away. But your eyes go back to him and he’s grinning a very wicked grin.

“Now there’s a smile.”

And, somehow, it’s three hours later and you’ve brought out a bottle of wine and Rice Krispie Treats, all thoughts of backup forgotten. He’s charming and witty and everything you knew he’d be, read about, but it’s so much fun and he’s so interesting, you could listen to him prattle on for hours. He moves back and forth between easy jokes and thinly veiled concerns that have him serious for a moment before he tries to wave it off again.

He tries, in the beginning, to broach the subject of work, and you know he’s fishing for information. That objective seems to have gotten lost somewhere around three-fourths of the bottle and a deep discussion of opera later.

You are aware you're no master of verbal chess matches. He’d have you talking in no time. So you let him talk instead, letting your responses be personal and emotional, but not work-related or specific. It’s a hard thing, to keep your mind focused on not giving the enemy details while still keeping up the conversation.

Which is probably how you forget about that plan after his jibe at what basically amounts to the entirety of Earth’s economic structure.

You’re laughing, smiling, joking and talking and enjoying yourself more than you had since the infernal bracelet had come into your life. There’s so little time to just relax and be happy, to spend time with someone else, when you’re having years of combat and espionage training shoved into three short months.

It feels good.

You don’t even think twice when he reaches his hand across the table to yours.

It isn’t until an arrow sails through your open balcony door and buries itself where Loki’s head had been seconds before that you remember there’s a threat at all.

Loki eyes the arrow suspiciously. “This one isn’t going to explode, I trust? Might mess up your dear friend’s furniture.”

Clint steps in through the balcony, arrow knocked and repel gear on. “Y/N, over here.”

Your response is slower than it should be, but you do as told.

"Drop the illusion, Loki, we know it’s you.” Clint’s voice is calm and crisp, his eyes locked on his target.

“How did you, though?” Loki asks with a sly smile. “That’s what I wonder. I didn’t think Y/N here was suspicious at all. At least, not of anything but a possible spy trying to get information on your little SHIELD. You are a wonderful host, by the way.”

He nods to you. You shrug, giving him a rueful smile in return.

"You’re a great guest. And illusions don’t work on me.”

His smile slips. “Really? Not at all?”

You shake your head.

“You knew since I answered the door?”

“Yeah.”

“Then what did take you so long, Agent Barton?”

Clint remains silent.

Loki takes back up his smug expression. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. Keep your secrets, mortals. I’ll have what I want in time. Good night, Y/N.”

Baffled but amiable, you reply, “Good night, Loki.”

Clint suddenly loses his arrow, but to your shock, it completely misses its mark. Loki is across the room and out the way Clint came in in seconds, and Clint is stumbling around your empty apartment as though there’s something to find-

Oh. Right. Illusions.

"He’s already gone, Clint.”

“Why didn’t you stop him?”

“I thought you were going to stop him.”

“I couldn’t see him.”

“I didn’t know that. I can’t tell when there are illusions I’m not seeing.”

"How long was he here?”

You check the clock and slowly answer. “About three hours.”

Clint stares at you. “Why didn’t you call it in? We could have been here sooner if we knew-“

“I was busy just trying to keep him here!” You snap back, trying to think up an excuse on the spot. “Getting a moment away to call you guys is harder than it sounds when I have a Norse god in my living room!”

Clint looks like he wants to growl, but he flexes his shoulders and nods to you before turning his attention to his earpiece. “Yeah, he’s gone. Do you still have the energy signal from that teleporter he used? … so we’re back in the dark. Yeah, Y/N’s fine.”

You tune him out a bit unintentionally. Your attention is distracted by the brown paper bag on the edge of the kitchen counter, barely in view.

You’d both completely forgotten about the food.

Which, as it turns out, had been drugged. Heavily.

Because he was after the bracelet. They don’t know how he found out, but Loki knows you have it, and had targeted you. If SHIELD hadn’t gotten the read on the unusual, gigantic, alien energy signal of whatever Loki had used to transport or teleport himself to your area, no one would have known he was even on Earth again, let alone a few blocks from your apartment.

That signal’s dead now. Natasha figures they’ll have to wait for him to fire up whatever it is again to find it, and he’s apparently laying low, not doing that at the moment.

Seems like the plan had been to simply drug your food, wait outside for it to knock you out, and then for him to simply cart you away until he could figure out, on his own time, how to get the bracelet from you. He probably hadn’t counted on leaving such a glaring target of energy, though it had still taken Clint, the nearest agent, hours to get to you.

Worried he might try again, Natasha gets assigned guard duty. Having outsmarted him once, she’s one of the few trusted to be a match for the god should he show up.

You don’t mind the company. Natasha is playful and snarky when she wants to be, and more than willing to take up the role of “gal pal” to make you more comfortable while she works. It’s almost like having a friend again, even if it is just hanging out with an amazing actress.

It’s less than two weeks later when Loki makes his second attempt.

You’re out with Nat, going about your daily life. No assignment, no crisis, just walking down the street past some shops, running errands for yourself with a Russian spy tagging along.

Of course, someone happens to decide to rob a store and make their escape across your path. Natasha watches the thief sprint off, and shoots you a look.

“Wait for me?”

You grin. “I’ll be right here.”

“And I’ll be right back.”

She’s out of sight in a heartbeat. You think you hear a loud crash and screaming in the distance moments later. It makes you chuckle.

“Feisty as ever, isn’t she?”

Glancing to your right, you find Loki standing casually, dressed for all the world like a regular (though rather trendy) Midgardian. No illusions this time, apparently. And he really does look good, in dark slacks, a button-up that brings out his eyes, and a perfectly fitted vest.

He smiles at you. It’s very smug.

“You can’t take it off me. They’ve tried.” You lift your arm and wave your wrist in front of him, the bracelet latched on tight, for all the world like just a regular piece of jewelry.

“I’m sure I’ll find a way. I would hardly compare the efforts of Midgardian peasants to my resources and intellect.” He shrugs. “Now, how difficult are you going to make this?”

“Very.”

“In the middle of a crowded street?” He tsks at you. “You could get someone hurt.”

“True.” You swallow, glancing around at the people passing by. A crowd has gathered around what you assume is Natasha laying down the law a few blocks away. “But how far do you think you’ll get before Agent Romanoff catches up?”

His eyes flit towards the crowd and back, narrowing. You chuckle.

“Yeah, she scares me, too.”

“She does not scare me,” Loki snaps back. His expression cannot be described as anything but pouty.

"This was not a well thought out kidnapping plan, Your Majesty.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m in a bit of a rush.”

“You’re welcome to try again when you have more time,” you offer, then stop. That wasn’t really a smart thing to tell the bad guy.

He seems to be thinking the same thing. “How very kind of you. Do you often invite your enemy to leave and try again later instead of actually capturing or defeating him?”

You avoid answering that by nodding towards the crowd. “Police have pulled up. Natasha will be back soon.”

“Then I suppose I should start threatening the lives of civilians to get you to go quietly.”

“You could. Or you could consider this reconnaissance and try again later. I’ll answer a few questions a probably shouldn’t in exchange.”

His mouth opens, then shuts, and his head leans back, watching you with consideration. “What does the bracelet do, exactly?”

“You want it and you don’t know?”

“I know enough about its origins to want it, something I doubt you humans know anything about. But what it does … “

He’s right. SHIELD hasn’t been able to figure out where, exactly, the bracelet came from. Maybe that should be a bit more of a priority.

"So far? We’ve found it dampens energy around the wearer. I’m unaffected by illusions, as you already know. Energy blasts of any kind tend to be nullified, whether it’s magic or electricity or whatever it is SHIELD tested on me.” You cross your arms and sigh. “Physical stuff still hurts, though. Thor’s hammer, even without its magical qualities, is still a hammer.”

Loki’s eyes narrow. His gaze is unnerving.

“No idea how to remove it?”

You get the feeling that wasn’t what he had been planning to ask, but answer it anyway.

“None.”

“Nobody else has worn it?”

“No.”

“Why did it take Agent Barton three hours to respond to your distress call?”

“My what?” Your hands fall to your hips.

“When you informed your comrades I was in your home. Why did it take them so long to come to your defense?”

Shaking your head, you say, “Because I didn’t inform them. I never sent out a ‘distress call’ or anything. I had no idea they knew you were in my apartment or were even coming.”

His head tilts to the side. His tongue runs slowly over his bottom lip, like he’s thinking hard. He certainly looks confused. “How did they know then?”

“Something about an energy signal they picked up. Your transport or something. They tracked that to my area before it faded out. I was the only possible target around.”

The crowd is starting to disperse down the street. Natasha will be back soon, and Loki isn’t gone yet. Oddly, that worries you.

Loki’s next question pulls you away from that thought. “Why didn’t you call for backup, then? The only reason to invite me in if you knew who I was would have been to capture me, which you obviously couldn’t do on your own.”

You shrug. “I had planned on it. But we got to talking and … er, I forgot, honestly.”

“You forgot.”

“I was having a good time!” you reply defensively. “It was fun! And you didn’t seem in any hurry to kill me, so …”

There isn’t much else you can say to that. You really have no excuse. You simply let yourself get charmed by the silver-tongued devil.

And frankly, you’re still doing it. Natasha’s going to be ticked.

Speaking of, you can actually see her fire-red hair coming down the street.

“Loki, Nat’s coming.”

He’s staring at you. He’s been staring at you.

“Loki, she’s coming. You need to go,” you repeat, a little more emphatically. If she sees him standing with you-

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him move. It looks like he’s reaching for you.

You turn, and Nat’s suddenly there, fists flying. Loki jumps back, and Nat propels forward after him, aerial kicks and swinging punches, elegant and graceful, being met and blocked by the Asgardian prince with ease.

He laughs, his devious little chuckle, and falls back into the crowd trying to move out of the way. Somehow, he’s almost instantly lost in the moving sea of people.

Moments later, Natasha rejoins you. “Did he hurt you?”

You turn your attention back to her, smile, and try to pretend your heart isn’t racing. “No, just threatened some bystanders if I didn’t go quietly. I knew you were coming back, so I just kept him talking. Ego, all that.”

Nat nods, patting you on the shoulder. “Good work. I’m sorry I left you, I never should have. Let’s get back, I’ve got to report this.”

And so she does, while you hang back on the loveseat sipping tea. You’re in the same spot in your room you had been when Loki had visited—tried to KIDNAP you, you correct yourself—across the coffee table from where he sat.

You stare at that spot while you drink.

The third time he tries, Natasha’s away on a mission and your babysitter of choice is Steve Rogers. It’s a workout day for SHIELD agents of your level, and it’s more convenient for you to share a gym with the Cap himself than to have someone sent out to stay with you at your usual place.

Steve is companionable if you aren’t too talkative. He keeps a regular, if not quiet and slow-paced, conversation going between routines, has a good sense of humor, and knows when to leave things in peace for a while.

It’s a bit awkward, but, thankfully, not pushy and overly friendly (like Stark and Thor).

Steve stays at a sandbag, boxing. He keeps spares in the corner (just in case). You, on the other hand, stick a pin under your best weight and lean back on a bench to do some presses.

You aren’t alone. It isn’t a large gym, but it’s not a private gym, either. It’s apparently Steve’s favorite, though, and many of the people here seem so used to his presence that he barely causes a stir. A few gawk, but it doesn’t last long before someone puts them in their place. No one pays any attention to you except a few questions about who you are and why you came in with Captain America.

That’s what you expect when a seriously beautiful woman comes up to you. She’s tall and curvy, dressed in what looks like designer brand workout clothes, with long, wavy black hair pulled forward in a messy ponytail over her shoulder. She’s also got bright green eyes that strike you as very familiar, and a killer smile.

“Would you mind giving me a hand?” She throws her head to the side, motioning towards a more secluded corner with a programmable stationary bike.

So not about Steve. Then why ask you? Must be about Steve. She’ll ask when she gets you alone.

“Sure thing.”

You lower the weight behind you and climb off the bench, following after her as she leads the way. You glance back at Steve as you go. He’s looked away from his punching bag, watching you. You nod and wave him off, and he nods back before socking his bag again.

The lady hops on the bike sideways and crosses her legs, smiling at you.

“So … ” You trail off, feeling awkward. “What did you need help with?”

She grins wider. “I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“Illusions don’t work, but shapeshifting is reality. It’s truth. Nothing to see past, to nullify.” She chuckles, crossing her arms over her knees to lean forward and give you a wink.

You stare into those green eyes, honestly impressed. “Loki.”

“Y/N,” she shoots back playfully.

“You look beautiful.”

She seems a little startled by that, then gathers herself. “Of course I do. I’m attractive no matter what form I take.”

“There’s no arguing with that.”

Her eyebrows shoot up and you turn away, clearing your throat.

“So,” you begin again, trying to change the subject. “This is rather fast. It hasn’t been that long since last time. I thought you were gonna put together a more thorough kidnapping plan?”

“I told you, I’m in a rush. The information you supplied last time was valuable, but I can’t afford to put off taking you.”

“Someone’s busy.” You frown, leaning against another of the bikes—this one out of order. “Since when is an immortal god pressed for time?”

“When they're on a schedule. Now, getting on with things, I’d like to point out you are in a gym full of people so I have plenty of hostages again. I’d advise you to keep your knowledge of my identity from Captain Rogers.”

“Of course.”

“I don’t suppose I can get you to leave with me quietly?”

“Steve won’t let me out the door without him.”

Loki sighs. “I thought as much. But your star-spangled bodyguard is merely a potential kink in my plans, nothing more.”

“Good to hear.” You give her a small applause.

She practically sneers at you, but it breaks into a laugh after a moment. “Oh, you do think yourself adorable, don’t you?”

“You think I’m adorable?” you respond immediately, half mocking and half honestly hoping so.

“I said you think you’re adorable,” she shoots back.

You stop for a moment, thinking about that. “Well, yeah. I mean, I am pretty adorable. I might not be magazine cover material but … I’m happy with me. Why shouldn’t I think that about myself?”

Loki cocks an eyebrow at you. “No one ever said you shouldn’t. Of course you should be happy with yourself. And if you want to change something, change it. Whatever pleases you.”

"You sound more like you're talking to yourself.”

“I have had this little chat with myself before, yes. Comes with being a shapeshifter.”

"Is that why you never look like a Jotun?”

Her head snaps around to glare at you. You expect biting remarks, ruthless insults, that silver tongue to turned forked and stab at you.

Instead, Loki continues to glare and, slowly, that glare softens into a thoughtful frown.

Eventually, she shrugs. “It’s not me. It’s never been me.”

“Okay.” Your simple answer seems to confuse Loki further.

“Why did you even ask?”

“Thor supplied some information from Asgard for the SHIELD database. I say a few pictures of Jotuns. I thought they were beautiful, in their own way. I just wondered-”

“What I’d look like?”

You give her a wary half-smile. “Attractive in any form, right?”

“Hm.” She slides off the bike. There isn’t much room between the two pieces of equipment; less so now with the two of you standing together. She’s extremely close.

“You do not seem nearly as worried as you should be.”

“About being kidnapped by a shapeshifting alien god?”

“Seems to be something most people would be worried about.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“But not you? Is that bravery or foolishness?”

“Foolishness, no question.”

She’s so extremely close.

Something zips between the two of you and embeds itself into the wall. It’s Steve’s shield.

“Loki.”

She glances up at the new arrival and replies casually. “Captain.”

Steve has joined you both. He is a large and rather intimidating presence.

“You should be less obvious,” Steve says conversationally. “We all know you can change your appearance. And I’ll hit a lady just as hard as anyone else if they’re my enemy.”

“I wasn’t aware my gender had any part in the matter.” Her smile is icy—very different from what it’s been while the two of you talked. “Are you planning to capture me, Captain?”

“Let’s take this outside, Loki.”

“And lose all my hostages? I’d rather not.”

“We’ve done this dance before, son. I’ll win.”

Loki looks honestly affronted for a moment before turning on her greatest defense: sass. “Son? I thought I was a lady.”

It’s at this that Steve does, in fact, take the fight outside. By picking up Loki by the shirt and throwing her across the room and through the front entrance. But by the time he’s chased after her, the Trickster has vanished.

The forth time he tries, it’s been weeks. The energy signal they use to track Loki has popped up again in the meantime, and they went after him, but nothing came of it. Since then, all’s been quiet.

Eventually, you’re back on missions. The current one in particular has you teamed up with Bruce out in the field.

There’s hopes your energy-nullifying abilities will work on gamma radiation, but there’s been no chance to test it. Instead, there’s you as a just-in-case tagging along while Bruce does his thing negotiating for something or other with someone important. Or something.

Honestly, your head hurts, your whole body’s sore from a training accident, and you have no idea if you’ll be any help to Bruce at all if it comes down to it. They should have sent Natasha instead; she’s good with Bruce.

As it stands, you’re just keeping out of the way. This job doesn’t actually involve you at all unless there’s an emergency, anyway, so you’re not even in the room where the discussion is being held. Instead, you’ve got a heart monitor on your wrist alerting you to Bruce’s pulse and a pretty powerful phone with wi-fi out in the hall of the strange, underground bunker this negotiation is taking place in.

And you’re more than a little nervous, checking the heart monitor every few seconds and listening to the muffled sounds of conversation through the door as you wait. This mission is obviously a big deal, and this facility is high-tech; energy barriers galore, which is probably another reason you were picked in particular to come.

You’re surrounded by them now. There’s more of them in this place than actual walls. You had to be very careful not to just walk through one on accident coming in, as no one here besides Bruce knows what you can do.

Or that the bracelet can do. Not you.

You frown, rubbing the smooth surface of the alien cuff. It isn’t heavy and doesn’t chafe. It hasn’t caused you any problems or been in the way, and you’ve gotten used to it being there when you look down. A permanent accessory.

It‘s brought a lot of difficulty into your life, certainly. Hard months of workouts and military-style training, involvement in life-threatening situations, not being able to go home and see friends or family, and this inferiority complex the SHIELD therapist tells you you’ve developed.

But it isn’t all bad.

You’ve gotten to start a new life, completely fresh. You’ve got a superpower, whether it’s natural or not. You’re a trained SHIELD agent, able to kick butt and take names. You get to hang out with an Avenger on an almost daily basis. SHIELD pays almost all your bills—you’ll probably never want for anything again.

And one of the hottest villains to ever attack the planet keeps trying to kidnap you.

You try to stop it, but the little grin that creeps up at that thought won’t stay down. It’s terrible, really it is. He’s blown up cities, been responsible for an alien invasion and hundreds of deaths, and continues to be a pain in the Avengers’ side on the sole principle that it’ll annoy his brother.

But you’ve gotten to spend some time with said brother, in the name of preparing to face off against the Trickster again. And Thor doesn’t talk bad about his younger sibling without also telling the good. You didn’t just learn about weaknesses to exploit, but his past, his childhood, his good qualities and little life events and memories that make Thor smile, the regrets he knows Loki holds and the drive that keeps him moving away instead of making amends.

You know he’s terrible. You understand that. But you don’t hate him.

You keep seeing him out of the corner of your eye, in that spot on your couch, smiling and laughing and sipping wine, talking with you late into the night; standing beside you on that crowded street, dressed so nice, like he belongs, and reaching for you; sliding off that stationary bike to be barely a foot away, and leaning closer.

His laugh. His sarcasm. His passionate discourses. You can hear them in your head, too.

And you’re painfully aware that none of this bodes well for you.

So you keep it to yourself. You try to push it to the back of your mind, force it down, not think about it.

It isn’t easy.

It’s a hundred times harder when you sigh and look up—and see him standing there, on the other side of the barrier.

He’s frowning. “You look troubled.”

Your fault, you think in a combination of annoyance and sadness and jubilation. Your heart’s already racing.

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d given up.” Swallowing, you wave your wrist—and the bracelet—in front of you. “I thought you were in a rush? What took so long?”

Loki stands silently for a moment, eyes on yours. Then he takes a step sideways and begins to casually pace the barrier. “I was rushed before, because my teleporter was on a timer. It’s gone now, so I have all the time in the world. But you’re changing the subject, aren’t you?”

“I was worried,” you admit, sitting down on a bench along the wall.

“Is that an answer to my first question or my second?”

You lean back and try to decide if you should be having this conversation, but in the end you roll with it. You haven’t let logic guide any of your talks with Loki before this, why start now?

“Both, I guess. I was worried you just weren’t coming back.”

He stops and shakes his head. “And why would you be worried your attempted kidnapper wouldn’t be coming back?”

“Oh, good question.” You cringe, thumping the back of your head against the wall behind you several times. “Great question.”

“Miss me?” Loki teases.

It’s not funny, because the answer to that is yes, and you can’t deny it. And after the silence stretches on a for minute, Loki seems to realize that, and his smile slips.

“You’ve never really tried to fight me off or escape me when I’ve come for you,” he says slowly, pacing again, watching you. “Do you want to be taken?”

"No.” True enough. For the most part. Sorta. Maybe. “Kinda just wanted to see you again. I like talking to you.”

You let your head flop over in his direction and shoot him a lazy half-smile. “Thor says you should visit more often.”

“He would.” Loki rolls his eyes, and you laugh. He smiles at that and chuckles a little himself. “You’re not so bad to talk to, I suppose. For a Midgardian.”

You laugh harder. “Why thank you, Your Majesty.”

“You said you didn’t want to come with me.” He leans against the same wall as you, the barrier still shimmering in the air between. “Why not? You were just a regular person before you found the bracelet, weren’t you? You owe these people no loyalty.”

“I owe my planet some loyalty. You did try to kill just about everyone on it.”

He actually gets quiet at this, and you're struck by the absurd notion you might have hurt his feelings.

“That was … unintentional,” he finally replies. “I wanted to rule your planet. I couldn’t do that with everyone dead, obviously. But I had a borrowed army that got out of hand. A few hundred dead during takeover was deemed acceptable. But the destruction the Chitauri wrought … let’s just say I wasn’t exactly upset by that defeat.”

“A few hundred dead is acceptable?” You press your eyes shut, starkly reminded that Loki does not value human life, and that is almost unbearable. “I could have been one of those. My family. My friends. Tch, that doesn’t even matter. Human lives. Someone’s family. Someone’s friends. Someone. People are dead because of you. Because you look at us and see less, not life, no matter the form it’s in. What would you do if some greater being you’d never heard of suddenly invaded your home and crushed your people underfoot?”

Standing, you turn to him.

"You want to be a king, Loki?” you snap, eyes burning. “Then you should know what that means. Being a king is nothing but a title with no one to rule. A king is not just his domain. A king is his people. Their lives are a reflection of his greatness. If his peasants are wealthy and healthy and happy, then everyone knows their king must be even more so. The lands he rules, even the ones far off, even the colonies he’s planted or the land he’s taken over where foreigners still live, they must be prosperous for him to be anything but an eyesore to be replaced. For the lands a king has taken not to rebel for their previous leadership again, a king’s rulership must be better than what they had. Not taken over by fear but benevolent. A king does not rule by fear. A tyrant does. A king provides for his people, even the ones not born his.”

Loki slowly paces past you again, those green eyes sharp as hawks’ in the dim lighting. “Like you and your Earth?”

"Unhappy citizens cause uprisings. Happy citizens would die for their king.”

“And if I were to become this … benevolent king? Would you die for me, Y/N?”

I’d probably die for you anyway, you think bitterly, angry with yourself and your feelings.

You simply answer, “Yes.”

“Would you join me willingly if I were that king?”

“Yes.” You’re only one person, after all. Earth could make its own decision about whether it wanted to join with an alien kingdom for protection and prosperity (something it’s practically already done, considering Thor’s presence). As a completely personal decision, you’d go.

You are in way over your head.

“I could be that king, Y/N.” Loki stops his pacing, faces you through the barrier. “You could help me. Stand by my side, advise me.”

“All I’d have to do is grant you the power of the bracelet whenever you wanted, for whatever you wanted, right?”

His eyes narrow for a moment, like he’s confused, and he glances down to your wrist.

He stares at it, at the bracelet, for a long moment. He looks like he had forgotten about it.

But that’s too much to hope for, isn’t it?

Isn’t it?

His gaze comes back to yours, and there’s no way your feelings aren’t written right on your face for him to see. Color floods your cheeks.

“I would have you even without the bracelet,” Loki says slowly, keeping your eyes on his with his unblinking stare.

Silence settles between you. You can’t speak. You just can’t.

When you finally try, it’s hoarse. “I can’t trust that.”

“Then let me prove it,” he asserts, voice filled with passion, determination. “Come with me. I will remove the bracelet, Y/N, and you can do with it as it pleases you. Give it back to the Midgardians for all I care. It’s but a tool that would have been convenient. But you … you are … “

He hasn’t even finished his sentence, but you're already reaching forward. As your hand nears the barrier, a hole appears in it, an empty bubble of space around your skin.

He’s reaching back instantly, without a moment for thought or a single hesitation.

You hear the door behind you slide open, your name beginning to be said, and then-

The rapid beeping of the heart monitor erupts seconds before the Hulk comes charging past you, slamming two great fists against the energy barrier.

Loki staggers back, and you scamper sideways to escape Bruce’s charge. The hole in the barrier vanishes, and the Hulk is left pounding against solid energy, roaring at Loki’s unreachable figure.

The Asgardian gives you one last, long glance. A heavy sigh deflates his whole body, and then he’s backing out of the room, away from your newest bodyguard.

The fifth time he tries to take you is barely days later and, to your horror, in the middle of the Avengers' Tower.

You aren’t in trouble, per se, but the Avengers are now very paranoid about just how valuable you—and by you they, of course, mean your bracelet—are, and what unknown powers you may hold. No more missions, no more even going outside. You are stuck in the Tower twenty-four-seven with as many Avengers as can possibly be spared at any given moment.

Bruce had seen Loki at the barrier and gone on the defensive instinctively. He had not realized you had reached forward and neutralized part of it, that you were giving in. You didn’t report it, so no one was the wiser. But SHIELD has caught on to your habit of ‘freezing up’ when confronted by the all-powerful, homicidal brother of the God of Thunder. You are not trusted to defend yourself at all, for which you are in a bit of sorta-trouble for.

Not that it matters. The protective measures around you are punishment enough.

At least, the house arrest part. And the part where most of the other agents look at you with a mixture of pity and disappointment.

But the upgrade to living in the Avengers' Tower is pretty awesome, honestly. Perk to every downside.

Tony’s probably a bit of both. And it is he who comes strolling into the common area around midday with an announcement.

"So, Loki’s on his way up.”

Your head snaps up from the book you were reading. “What?”

“In the elevator.” Tony throws a lazy gesture toward the elevator doors, like you don’t know where they are. “JARVIS said he knocked out front. I told him to come on up.”

You’re staring. You can’t help it.

Tony plops down beside you on the sofa. “We’re gonna have a chat.”

He smiles, for all the world like he’s just having a friend over.

The elevator opens, and Loki steps in. He’s dressed in Midgardian wear again, and his eyes move around the room with feigned interest; too quickly, however, they are pulled, as though magnetized, to you.

“Y/N.” He dips his chin.

“Loki.” You really hope that didn’t sound as breathless as it felt.

“Tony.” Stark smiles brightly, gesturing to himself. “Now that the greetings are out of the way, let’s get down to business.”

Loki tilts his head and chuckles. “No drink this time?”

“Oh!” Tony pops up out of his seat and heads for the bar. “How rude of me. Scotch?”

Loki’s gaze is back on you as he answers. “I’d rather have wine, if it’s all the same to you.”

Tony affirms his request easily, but you’re barely paying attention. All you can think is of that first night, on the couch, sipping wine and snacking on Rice Krispie Treats in the lamplight.

And judging by his slow, soft smile, it’s what Loki’s thinking, too.

“So.” Tony’s back, leaving Loki’s wineglass on the coffee table and handing you one before lounging back on the spot next to you again. “Let’s talk about the bracelet, shall we? And your pointless little attempts to take it from us.”

Loki settles in the seat across the table from you and picks up his glass.

“I have no further interest in the bracelet.” He takes a sip. “If you have questions about it, however, I’m more than willing to answer them.”

Tony’s brows shoot up. “No further interest in the bracelet? Really? Aaaaaand why are you here then?”

“I still want Y/N.”

“Y/N who has the bracelet you’re not interested in?”

Loki closes his eyes. You can almost hear him counting to three in his head, and you grin.

“You may keep Y/N until you remove the bracelet, if that’s what it takes. But after, Y/N is mine.”

“Yeah, no, I don’t think so.”

“I’m not asking you.”

Loki is looking at you now, ignoring Tony.

Swallowing hard, you scramble for any other subject.

“How do I take off the bracelet?”

“I am uncertain," he admits, shrugging. “The lore about this particular item is concentrated on discussing the piece as a whole, not its individual parts.”

“The bracelet’s part of something else?”

“A set of Asgardian armor. It’s a bracer, part of a larger set. The matching bracer, which I do not know where to find, is said to reform the energy this one disperses so that it might be used as a weapon for the wearer. Each piece of the armor has some unique ability that, all together, make the wearer quite unstoppable.”

“But you don’t want the bracelet anymore, huh?” Tony butts in.

“It’s hardly as useful alone as it is with the entire set, which has been scattered across the nine realms," Loki snaps back. “And I’m not going on a scavenger hunt for a set of armor that might not even be intact anymore. It’s been centuries since any record of even a piece of it being used has been found. How the bracer got on Earth baffles me.”

"Sure.” Tony shrugs, looking unimpressed. “And you’re just telling us all this out of the goodness of your heart.”

“I’m telling you all this as an act of good faith. But you wear my patience thin, Man of Iron.”

“An act of good faith? For … Y/N? What do you want with Y/N if you don’t want the bracelet?”

“That’s my business. Y/N and I have discussed it.”

“Have you?” Tony glances between you and Loki, lip sticking out in a pout. “Well, now I feel awkward. Do you two need some time alone?”

“Yes,” Loki answers bluntly.

“Not gonna happen.” Tony fires right back.

Loki gives him a strained smile. “You’re going to make me throw you out a window again, aren’t you?”

“I really think I’ll be the one doing the throwing this time.” Tony motions around, and you notice several of his suits have joined you, making a guarded circle around the room.

Loki eyes them distastefully. “I’m not here to fight, Stark. If Y/N does not wish to join me, I’ll leave. No need to break your toys.”

“The way I see it, you still have a lot to answer for, so no, I think a fight’s in order.”

“What happened to you people accepting Asgardian justice? I was punished already for the destruction I wrought on your planet.”

“Obviously not enough, seeing as you’re here again.”

The two glare coldly across the coffee table. You swear you don’t even blink, but somehow you still miss whatever it is that triggers all-out war in the Avengers' living room.

Furniture explodes. Iron Man suits are everywhere, blasting walls into oblivion. Tony has suited up in seconds, but is laying back, watching his helpers at work. Loki holds his own rather easily, his magic a powerful force. In the midst of the battle, he manages to maneuver himself in your direction.

He only flashes a glance towards you, but the look you catch on his face is heartbreaking; pleading, desperate, hopeless. Not about the fight, no, he’ll walk away as he always does.

But he’s not going to walk away with you. At least, not this time.

You dart forward. Thoughtless, heedless, careless, you rush into the battle of the confusion of robots, energy blasts, and your goal.

His eyes widen. With a roaring cry, he sends out a powerful pulse of energy, knocking his assailants back, and throws out his arm to reach for you.

Your fingertips are inches away, suspended in the empty air.

Tony full body tackles him.

“No!” you yell, making to rush after them.

You barely hear Tony’s orders being shouted over the crash of metal and flesh.

“Restrain Y/N!”

Eyes wide, you turn to run, only to be met by yet another Iron Man suit. It grabs you, and you struggle against it, pulling, tugging, beating at it. You throw your body back to try and escape it-

And your head collides painfully with something solid behind you. Everything goes black.

When it all comes back, you don’t open your eyes. You just lay there; you don’t know where you’re laying, exactly, but it hardly matters.

Because it’s not where Loki is.

You can hear Tony’s loud but muffled voice coming from somewhere, probably a different room. There are others. Lots of discussion. Some yelling.

He’s told them, you have no doubt. Told them you tried to betray them, tried to hand the bracelet over to Loki, tried to leave with him. Told them every word Loki had to say while he was sipping his wine and Tony was readying his little army. He probably has it all on video.

Your eyes burn behind heavy lids. ‘Trouble’ doesn’t begin to cover what this is. Trying to go with Loki while wearing the bracelet is probably tantamount to handing over a dangerous military weapon to a terrorist.

SHIELD is forgiving of those who turn from their ways to aid them. The other way around is not going to be like that.

The tight circle of metal around your usually bare wrist is testament to that. Opening your eyes slowly, you find, to no surprise, that you’ve been handcuffed to the frame of the bed you’re lying on. The small room you’re in is little more than a sparsely furnished cell.

The bracelet is still on your other, uncuffed wrist, as they can’t get it off of you. You’re pretty glad of that. They aren’t liable to lock you away for good if they can still use you.

You’ve honestly never really wanted to bracelet to come off. Even in your worst moments, those days during training where you’d hit bottom, missed home, hurt all over and were certain you’d never be cut out for this, you had still felt that small bit of pride that this power was yours. Even if it wasn’t because you were anything special, even if the bracelet was only yours by coincidence, it made you feel stronger, needed, protected.

Not that you needed it now. You were a trained SHIELD agent, after all, traitor or not. Powerful, able to defend yourself, smart and useful and, frankly, perfectly comfortable making your own decisions. If you wanted to go with Loki, you’d go. Let SHIELD—let the Avengers—try to stop you. Let them underestimate the regular civilian whose only special quality was a piece of alien tech.

Because you’re so much more than that.

You always had been, really. You just hadn’t believed it.

The training didn’t matter. Even Loki didn’t matter, not about this. The only one who makes a difference in taking care of you, inside and out, is you. Others can help, but you have the final say.

It doesn’t change the fact that the Avengers are stronger, smarter, and more organized than you, though. Escaping them, and then finding Loki, isn’t going to be easy.

But it’s what you want. You’re going to try.

You sigh and bring up your free hand to rub your aching eyes.

Oddly, the hand feels different.

Lighter, colder.

Holding it back to look it over, you don’t see anything unusual. Five fingers. Palm. Bare wrist.

Bare wrist.

On the mattress where you hand had been laying is the bracelet, unclasped and open.

Cautiously, you pick it back up and, watching the door carefully, listening to make sure no one’s coming, you look the object over.

Nothing seems different. You don’t know how it came off.

Is it because you didn’t need or want it anymore?

Experimentally, you put it back on and push the two edges together. It clasps back shut. Shaking it doesn’t have any effect.

But when you go to take it off … it falls right away.

Well. That’s handy.

The sixth time, the final time, Loki comes for you, he has help.

It’s the middle of the night when the door to your cell comes busting open, and Thor stands silhouetted in the doorway. “Come.”

You don’t ask. You follow.

The whole tower is dark and deserted as he leads you out.

“Is anyone here?” you ask quietly as the elevator doors slide shut.

“No.” He stands awkwardly, arms crossed over his chest, on the lookout for anyone who might try to stop him—despite being shut in a tiny elevator with no other way in.

“Then why did you break down my door?”

He’s silent for several seconds. “I could not dismantle the locking mechanism.”

You snort. He eyes you, finally smiling.

“If … ” He trails off, then takes a deep breath and begins again. “If my brother lies, and is only after you for the bracelet-”

You hold up your wrist and slip the bracelet off. Thor stares at it, and you hold it out to him.

“If he only wants the bracelet, he can fight you for it. And there’ll be no reason for me to stay.”

“How long have you been able to remove the bracelet?”

“Since I realized I didn’t need it,” you answer simply.

The silence stretches for several more minutes as the floors tick past. You’re almost to the bottom when Thor suddenly asks, “What is going on between you and Loki?”

It’s your turn to cross your arms and sigh. “I don’t know.”

“Are you lovers?”

“No.”

He glances at you sideways and looks away quickly. “Will you be?”

“… I don’t know.”

“Do you want to be?” This question comes out less serious, and you can tell, suddenly, that this is a big brother talking about his precious sibling.

You snicker. “Maybe. Probably. Stop smiling!”

Thor only laughs harder as you smack his arm.

You glare at him playfully, but your voice is quiet when you ask, “Do you think he wants to be? Do you think that’s really why he wants me with him?”

“I watched his visit with Stark’s visual records. I saw how he looked at you.” Thor places a hand on your shoulder and smiles proudly. “I truly believe he cares for you, Y/N.”

Throat tight, you only nod. You do, finally, manage a thank you once you’re away from the Tower, Thor flying you towards wherever Loki waits.

At an apparently prearranged meeting place on a cliff in some forest in the middle of nowhere, you land. And Loki’s there.

Your feet have barely touched the ground when he takes three almost involuntary steps toward you before forcing himself to stop. You can see the effort in his face it takes not to run the rest of the short distance. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you.

“Y/N.” It’s just your name. You know it’s only your name. But does his voice ever make it sound like the greatest compliment ever given, breathless and awestruck.

You have to swallow twice before you can smile and reply, “Loki.”

A crooked smile hitches on his face.

“Brother.”

Finally looking to Thor, Loki nods. “Brother.”

He says this with emphasis, and Thor stares at him in shock before smiling slightly. Have you become something that has brought them together again, at least for a moment? No small feat, and something to be proud of, that is.

Taking a deep breath, you hold up your empty wrist. Loki turns back to you, glances at it, and then looks confused. Beside you, Thor holds up the bracelet.

Loki glances between the two before his face evens out into a neutral expression.

“Keep it,” he says lightly to Thor.

Then he strides forward and, for the sixth time, reaches for you.

Thor’s arm is there, hammer in hand, blocking the way.

With the most comically frustrated look you’ve ever seen, Loki bites his bottom lip and glares at his brother.

“Do right by Y/N, Loki,” Thor says evenly. “Or you will hear from me again.”

“I expect I’ll never escape you either way,” Loki retorts. “But you have my assurances, regardless.”

Thor nods again and lowers his arm.

This time, you don’t wait. You throw yourself across the last bit of distance and wrap your arms around Loki.

Hesitantly, his arms find their way around you, too, and his face buries itself in your neck, murmuring your name against your skin. The night is cold, his breath is warm, and it sends shivers through you.

“Oh, how I have waited for this moment,” he whispers, moving his face up to nuzzle your jaw.

You turn your head, bringing your cheek down across his, and press your foreheads together. His eyes, bright, are right in front of you, his lips inches from your own. His breath ghosts across your face.

“You should go,” Thor’s voice interrupts. “I must return to the tower. Make certain no one follows you.”

Loki rolls his eyes. You laugh, and he smiles, but pulls away to nod to his brother. “Of course. You as well.”

“Of course.”

“Come, Y/N.” Loki takes your hand and gives you a tug, shooting Thor one last glance. “Thank you.”

Thor grins. “Y/N.”

You turn to him, and he tosses you the bracelet. “Keep him out of trouble.”

Grinning right back, you slip it on. “I will do my best to advise my king wisely.”

Thor’s barking laughter echoes into the night. Lightly, Loki’s thumb traces tickling circles around the back of your hand.

“Farewell.” With a great leap, Thor is gone.

And, hand in hand, so are you and Loki.