Loki: Don't you love us?

[moonshadows]

It wasn’t robots this time, but the humans were in suits of flexible armor tough enough that Captain America wasn’t holding back. Agents Barton and Romanoff were picking off the ones on the edges while Rogers held his own against the mass in the middle, but a fresh stream of them were jogging along the perimeter. This wouldn’t do at all; the Avengers would be overwhelmed if this new group joined the fight. Loki’s eyes narrowed as he chanted, one long-fingered hand waving almost negligently. Green ropes of light suddenly appeared, tying each man’s left foot to the ground. It wouldn’t hold them for long, but it would last long enough for Rogers and the assassins to be ready for them.

The motion of fifteen armored men falling over caught Hawkeye’s attention; he said something inaudible at this distance, and a moment later Cap called out, “Thanks, wherever you are!” He sounded genuinely grateful, and Loki contemplated joining the fight. It would be worth the imprisonment for the sense of camaraderie fighting with the team brought, not to mention the discussions with Banner and occasionally Stark. Just then, however, his mind was made up for him.

The street rocked with the force of Thor’s impact as he landed, exchanging easy greetings with Rogers and the other two before diving headlong into the fifteen who had just freed their feet and were charging into the fight. Memories of last time, of coming unasked-for to Thor’s aid, only to have his presence be taken for granted, rose like a sick mist to choke Loki.

Why can things not be as they were?

Can you tell me why I sent the Destroyer to kill you?

No; he could not do this. He would not. He refused to be the beaten dog that licked its master’s hand, begging for scraps. The Avengers knew he had been there; Thor knew where his penthouse was. If he wished to avoid another confrontation wherein it was painfully clear that Thor did not care enough about his brother to think, then he would need to find another place to hide. The thought of skulking around SHIELD brought no joy. He wanted to be around people, yes, but he did not want to be recognized, to have social demands made of him.

The magic swirled around him, carrying him away from the battle. Cloaked from all eyes, he strode down a busy street like a panther stalking through the urban jungle. The rattle of coin drew his attention to an unwashed vagrant, grimy cap outstretched in a wordless plea for alms. Most of the pedestrians ignored him completely as they passed; only one in ten or twenty paused to toss a coin or two.

Perfect.

A block down the street, Loki leaned against the brick wall and concentrated. Sight, smell, and sound – his form shifted until he, too, seemed to be an unwashed vagrant. He slid to the sidewalk, knees drawn up and hugged to his chest. Passers-by ignored him, stepping around his slight form without even looking. Safely disguised, hiding in plain sight, Loki plunged into the blissful un-being of Jotunsleep. Hours would pass before anything brought him out of it, he was sure, and he sighed involuntarily as his lungs deflated and oblivion claimed him.

The touch of someone’s hand against his woke him well after sunset, but by the time he’d forced his sluggish body to respond, whoever it was had vanished. A folded piece of paper was tucked into one hand, and he opened it slowly.

You freaked out Steve. Don’t you love us anymore? The writing was elegant but impersonal, ball-point pen scribbled onto the back of a discarded liquor receipt. Romanoff.

Loki stood and stretched, magic cloaking him from all eyes and whisking him back to his penthouse. The wards had been disturbed, but no one was inside. The lights flicked on with a thought and he sank down onto the couch, pondering the message he’d been given. The Black Widow hadn’t taken him in; hardly a surprise, as Director Fury had made it quite clear he didn’t have any intention of keeping Loki locked away. That Rogers had been named was a blatant play on his sympathies; the assassins tolerated him, but neither one of them actually liked him. The good Captain’s moral code, however, defined Loki as an ally by his benevolent actions – and his willingness to be ‘captured’ was a known constant that had just been violated. That could cause him to doubt Loki’s intentions, but the second phrase hinted at concern rather than anger or fear. Furthermore, she’d used the plural, invoking either the Avengers, or SHIELD as a whole, which meant that Fury was – unsurprisingly – involved.

He wondered if Thor had been hurt by his abrupt disappearance.

A quick call to a florist chosen at random, and a dozen red roses were on their way to the address the Avengers received fan-sent packages and letters at. Loki smiled as he imagined their reaction when they read the unsigned note.

As a shipwrecked sailor hates the sea,

Or a juggler hates a shove,

As a hostess detests unexpected guests,

That's how much you I love.

P.S. – My apologies to Steve.