Loki: I'll have that drink now

[moonshadows]

It wasn’t so much a sound that nudged him out of the suspended animation that passed for sleep or unconsciousness with him as it was a prodding toe. Suddenly his lungs heaved, struggling to fill, and his heart raced until it found its normal beat again. What had transpired? Had they won? Where was he? Slowed by muscles still warming back up, he levered himself out of the crushed concrete and chips of stone and tile that told him he was still where the Hulk had left him and turned to the open edge of the room, seeking a clue as to how his doomed war was going.

The collectively unhappy stares of the Avengers gave him all the answer he needed.

“If it’s all the same to you,” he said, reaching for his usual charm, half-smiling to show his lack of hostility, “I’ll have that drink now.”

The arrow poised mere inches from his eye never wavered. Thor’s grip on Mjolnir tightened. Captain America stood impassively, while Agent Romanoff held his scepter possessively and the Hulk snorted like a bilgesnipe about to charge. The moment stretched, but Loki’s pale eyes were fixed on Tony Stark’s dark ones.

“Yeah, okay. Just one, and then you come with us.” Startled eyes followed Stark as he wove his way to the bar on the other side of the room and poured dark amber liquid into a glass. “Anyone else? No? Fine.” A second glass was poured and he wove his way back through the debris, earning an unfriendly look from Barton as he handed one to the distinctly worse-for-the-wear Asgardian and took a sip from the other. “What?”

“You don’t think that’s just a bit unprofessional?” Captain America asked incredulously.

“It’s been a long day. I’m sure it’s been just as long for him as it has for us, and he’s smart enough to not try to pull anything with Barton here ready to put an arrow into his eye. Not to mention his pissed-off big brother. Oh, yeah, and we have a Hulk.”

Said Hulk grinned a little wider, as if inviting Loki to make a move. What Loki did, however, was sip his drink.

“I am unfamiliar with this type of alcohol,” he said admiringly, “but it is clear that you have excellent taste, Mr. Stark.”

“Glad you approve,” Tony said briskly, draining his glass. “Now it’s time to be a good boy and put your handcuffs on.”

“Hand-” Loki broke off mid-word as Thor set Mjolnir down in favor of a set of shackles that practically screamed with Asgardian magic. Odin’s magic. “Yes, of course.” Regretfully, he drained his glass as Ironman had, mourning the lost chance to savor the contents properly, and handed it back. He offered Thor his wrists, searching his brother’s face as the shackles clicked shut and their magic took hold, suppressing his. Thor’s expression was as stony as Odin’s had been when he’d banished his firstborn, and the sweet pain of bitter success flared in his heart. Half of him was dreadfully afraid Thor had given up on him, and the other half desperately hoped he had.

“Our ride’s here,” Barton announced, putting away his bow with a lingering look of resentment aimed at Loki.

The ride to the helicarrier was silent, for the most part. Loki sat on one side of the helicopter, facing a grim Thor and two unhappy assassins. He kept his expression light, mild, as though waiting for his horse to be saddled, but Thor’s scowl didn’t thaw. After several minutes, the half-smile flickered out. This was the longest he’d ever seen Thor go without smiling.

“If you keep making that face,” he joked, “it will freeze like that.”

Thor’s expression didn’t budge.

Loki smiled nervously. “Oh, come now…it was just a bit of fun.” No reaction. “Thor?” Loki licked his lips, tasting his own blood. “Brother?” he whispered, throat tight.

Storm-blue eyes stared coldly at him as though he were a complete stranger.

This is what I wanted, he reminded himself. I have only myself to blame if my trick worked too well.

Still, it hurt worse than he thought it would.

Loki followed obediently as he was led through the corridors of the repaired helicarrier, no longer confident and unbowed as he had been the first time. His destination was a tiny room, no doubt used for interrogation as it boasted stark, unadorned walls and a single armless chair bolted to the floor. Thor pushed him roughly down into the chair while Agents Barton and Romanoff secured his legs to it with straps that would not hold against Asgardian strength, but made them feel better. He sat, head bowed, staring at his bruised and bloodied hands, and mourned the bridge that stood smoldering behind him. Two sets of boots left; one set entered. Loki ignored them.

“I neglected to bring you a magazine.”

Fury’s strong voice echoed off the blank walls, trapped by the closed door. Loki ignored him.

“I take it ruling the world didn’t work out so well for you,” he tried again, but still got no response. “You can leave the room, Thor. I doubt he’s going to do anything in his current state.”

The burly Asgardian growled deep in his throat but knew a command when it was phrased as a suggestion and the tiny room echoed with his absence as the door shut behind him.

“So what really happened out there?” Fury asked in a more normal tone of voice.

Loki stirred, shifting as though to look up at the director, but directing his gaze somewhere past the other man’s right hip. “Weren’t you watching?” he whispered hoarsely.

“Someone disabled a lot of our equipment earlier,” the director retorted dryly. “I’ll be debriefing my agents later, of course, but your army all fell over dead, so you’re the only source of information I have from the other side. What happened?”

“I should have thought it was obvious,” Loki spat. “I had an army. You had a Hulk. Your side won. All according to plan, right?”

“Yours, or mine?”

“Oh, yours, of course.” Now he lifted his head, fixing Fury with a bitter smile that did not reach his pale eyes. “Why would I ever plan to be defeated by a handful of mortal heroes?”

“Maybe because we’d treat you better than your allies.”

Loki’s gaze skittered away. “It doesn’t matter; everything is all Thor’s fault. He destroyed the Rainbow Bridge. He took the throne away from me. It’s his own fault if I happened to find an army willing to deliver me a world to rule.”

“Did you ever intend to rule this world? Really?”

“Yes, of course. No, absolutely not. There; pick whichever answer you like.”

Fury sighed. “I think if you really meant to win this war, you would have done things differently.”

Loki smiled again, but the look in his eyes turned the expression into a rictus of pain. “Maybe I’m just not as clever as you thought.”

“Don’t even try that with me, buster.” Fury crossed his arms. “I think you’re every bit as clever as I thought, and I think you planned this out too well for it all to ride on one frontal assault. I think it did go according to plan, and the plan was yours.”

“Well, isn’t that just splendid for you? If you’ll excuse me, Director, I need to be dragged home in shackles so that my brother can take all the credit again.”

Fury’s eyebrow arched at the scathing tone. Surprisingly, there was no anger or resentment in that statement – just a whole lot of pain. “You don’t have to go back,” he said slowly. “I’m sure we can come to some kind of arrangement…”

“Of course I do,” Loki spat. “I went through a lot of trouble to wind up in this situation, and I’m damn well not going to let a one-eyed mortal interfere when I’m so close to being delivered to Asgardian justice.”

“So you did plan to be defeated.”

“Me? A god, brought low by pathetic human wretches? Clearly the loss of your eye has blinded you.”

“You’re not making this easy for me to arrange for you to get asylum.”

“And why would I ever want to cower like a worm on this pathetic world when I could be king in Asgard?”

“Now that’s funny, because I thought the only reason you wanted this world was because you couldn’t be king in Asgard.”

The bitter venom vanished from Loki’s face and posture as if a switch had been flipped. “If I’d really wanted to be king, all I would have had to do is leave Thor to his own devices when he was banished.”

The change in direction didn’t even faze Fury. “Why didn’t you?”

Loki met his gaze steadily. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“What do you want, Loki?” he ground out slowly.

“Something you can’t give me.”

The words were quiet, but absolute. It was clear that he wouldn’t be getting anything more out of Loki, but still, Fury had to try. “Why won’t you say any of this around Thor?”

Pale eyes dropped to the floor as though gazing through it. “What good would it do to talk to someone who’s not going to listen?” Loki asked softly.

“He has a muzzle, you know. To match those cuffs.”

“Why should I care?” The words were almost a whisper.

“Because he’ll be putting it on you before you leave this room. If you’ve got anything to say, you better do it now.”

For a long moment, Loki stared at the floor. Just as Fury was about to call Thor back in, the Asgardian lifted his head. “I’m sorry about Coulson’s death. He was a worthy foe, and I did not intend for him to die.” As Fury gaped, he nodded towards the door. “You can let my brother in to muzzle me now.”

Without a word, Fury opened the door and nodded jerkily to Thor. The burly Asgardian practically stomped over to the chair and spent a moment glaring at its occupant, cold blue eyes taking in the lean form sitting in a defeated slump. One meaty hand shot out and pulled Loki’s head up by a fistful of hair, while the other brandished an Asgardian device meant to cover a man’s mouth. Fury looked away until he heard Thor rip the straps securing Loki’s legs to the chair.

“Alright,” he said bitterly, trying not to glare at the Son of Odin, “let’s get this dog and pony show on the road.”