moonshadows

The shackles snicked shut around his wrists. “Loki?”

“Mmm?”

“Why are your fingernails painted green?”

Pale eyes rolled. “Really, Stark, do I have to lecture a man with as much style as you have on the importance of a matching color scheme?”

Ironman pulled just a hair too hard on the chain, making the Asgardian stumble. “Why are they painted at all, wise guy?”

“Darcy painted them for me, of course.”

“Were you drunk? High? Is that what this is all about?” Stark handed the chain over to Captain America. “Here, make yourself useful and hold him. I’ve got to call his girlfriend and let her know he’s been a bad boy again.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Make yourself…” He scowled as Ironman turned away, dismissing the other two in favor of talking to Darcy. “I don’t know what his problem is,” he muttered as he secured an unresisting Loki to the inside of the jet.

“I do.”

“Yeah, well, if you feel like sharing rather than just being a smartass, go right ahead.”

Loki met Steve’s angry blue eyes with just a hint of resentment and when he spoke, his voice was a shade beyond chilly. “I’m not the only man here who grew up in the shade of a perfect golden-haired warrior while my own intellectual talents went practically ignored by his father.”

Rogers froze, the last buckle in his hand. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know, of course, that I was spying on all of you in the Helicarrier.”

He didn’t, but he nodded as if he did and really, it wasn’t a stretch of the imagination.

“After your first confrontation wherein, I believe, he alluded to your less-than-scientific area of expertise and implied any number of insults based on your costume, you left. The next words out of his mouth were, That’s the guy my dad never shut up about?”

“I was frozen alive,” the Star-Spangled Man snarled quietly. “I’m not responsible for anything someone else did during that time period.”

Loki shrugged insolently. “You asked. I answered.”

“She wants to know if you chipped your nails,” Stark said, rejoining the conversation abruptly. “I seriously don’t understand your taste in women, buddy.”

The humor that had been present in Loki’s expression and posture evaporated. “You find fault in Darcy Lewis?”

Ironman held his hands up as if disavowing everything. “I’m not saying she’s not a looker, but you could have girls with legs that go up to here and enough cleavage to get lost in, and you picked her? And then you don’t even sleep with her?”

“So is it the lack of sexual activity you object to, or my preference for intelligence over looks? Because, to be fair, you’ve made the same choice.”

“You leave Pepper out of this.”

“My continued treatment of Darcy as a lady rather than a walking vagina, then.”

“Hey, I just want to make sure you’re not batting for the other team. What with your matching nail polish and all.”

Steve rounded on Ironman suddenly. “And what if he is? Does that scare you, Stark? You afraid he’s after your genius billionaire playboy philanthropist ass?”

“I’m his type,” Tony countered flippantly.

“If I wanted a piece of you, Tony Stark, I would get it by appealing to your tastes.”

“Oh yeah? And how…”

The rest of the question died as the two Avengers turned to their prisoner and discovered him a buxom woman with bright green eyes and a silky, shimmery dress of the same shade as his nail polish, conveniently slit up one side and plunging a considerable way down the front.

“Oh,” Tony said, as if this answered a number of questions.

“Turn it off, Loki,” Captain America demanded coldly.

Loki muttered, “Spoilsport,” but dropped the spell and resumed being a man in Asgardian leather armor. “Are you going to fasten that last buckle before I make an escape attempt?”

Rogers clipped the buckle into place just as Hawkeye came from the front to see what the holdup was.

“Barton,” the Asgardian purred. “How good to see you again.”

“Don’t make me shoot you.”

“Would you? Please? It would give me something to concentrate on that’s not the lover’s spat I have a feeling these two are going to engage in once we lift off.”

“We are not-” Tony broke off at the look Rogers was giving him, one part disdain and two parts waiting for him to plant his foot firmly inside his own mouth. “-going to have a spat,” he finished with considerable less heat.

“Sorry, Loki,” Clint said, sounding not the slightest bit sorry at all. “I think you’d enjoy that too much. You’ll just have to deal with it.” He smirked. “If you think it’s going to be that bad though, I’ve got the muzzle.”

“Muzzle him,” Steve commanded. “I think we’ve heard enough out of him today.”

“How like Thor,” murmured Loki. “Hear something you don’t like? Silence the source of the words. Know your place, brother,” he sing-songed. “Oh, how many times I heard that.”

“You know, he’s got a point.”

“Stay out of this, Stark.”

Neither of them noticed when Barton secured the muzzle to Loki’s face, too busy glaring at each other. “I’m not doing this for either of you,” the archer said. “I’m doing it because he hates it.” Almost cheerfully, he walked back to the front of the jet. “Prepare for takeoff.”

Over the metal covering his mouth, Loki’s eyes were smug. The trip was remarkably silent and uncomfortable.

“Alright, Loki,” Romanoff said as the guards locked the door of the interrogation chamber. “Fury’s got other things on his schedule for a few hours. Sing for me.”

“I…” he glanced uncomfortably around the room. “…want…you to know…”

Natasha quirked an eyebrow at him.

“That I’m…happy for you,” he confessed in a defeated tone. “I…wish nothing but…the best for you both.”

“What…”

Suddenly, Loki burst into song. “A younger version of me! He introverted like me? Would he sneak out on you in a theater? Does he speak eloquently, and would you have his babies? I’m sure you’d make a really excellent mother!”

The sound of a handgun’s safety being removed echoed in the suddenly-silent chamber.

“You know only Barton’s allowed to shoot me,” Loki said mildly, ignoring the homicidal look directed at him.

“Why do you keep harping on that subject, Loki?”

He smiled charmingly up at her. “Why, because it flusters you. Why else?”

“How about because you’re a lying little rat who acts like everything is black and white while you go around painting everything gray?”

“You say black, I say white.” The handcuffed Asgardian shrugged philosophically. “You say bark, I say bite. You say shark, I say, Hey man, Jaws was never my scene, and I don’t like Star Wars.” The confusion on her face as he sang the last phrases made him grin broadly. “No? Before your time? How about this one?”

The words that emerged from his mouth were in Russian, and even though the lyrics suggested that he pined for her because she’d chosen another, the familiar tune and the rhythm of her native language – not to mention his incredible pronunciation, why did Loki know how to sing that song as though he were a native speaker? – mollified her somewhat. She let him get halfway through the second verse before she interrupted him.

“Okay, that’s enough. What were you up to?”

“You’ll have to be more specific, Agent Romanoff. I’ve been up to many things.”

Her eyes dropped to his hands as she holstered her sidearm. “Why do you have green nail polish on?”

“Because the red didn’t go with my armor.”

Natasha covered her eyes briefly with one hand. “Okay. Let’s try this again. What were you doing in that abandoned amusement park?”

“Lamenting that the sno-cone cart was out of all the good flavors.”

“Loki…”

“Have you ever tried a cake-batter-flavored sno-cone, Agent Romanoff? Or the abomination called pink lemonade?”

She blinked. “I can’t say that I have.”

“At least one of us can say that,” he muttered bitterly.

“We caught your little friend, you know.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She blinked again. He was lying, but there were no signs of trying to hide anything. “You sure about that? He was trying to assemble some kind of robot out of the broken rides. Hulk smashed.”

“And their creator?”

“Oh, he’s in detention.”

Loki’s smile was broad and serene. “Excellent.”

Natasha sat on the interrogation table, to all appearances quite comfortable. “Really? You’re not upset that we interrupted your little plan?”

“Agent Romanoff,” he purred, “have you heard the expression that starts, It’s not whether you win or lose…?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Okay, I think we’ve reached the part of this procedure where we muzzle you and let you listen to a single pop song on repeat for three hours.”

“May I request an artist?”

“No. Stark won the pool this week. You’re getting Weird Al, All About The Pentiums.”

Loki shuddered as the noise-canceling headphones were placed on his head and closed his eyes as the muzzle was re-secured, but gave no other reaction. Black Widow pressed ‘play’ on the audio device built into the headphones and then surreptitiously lowered the volume to something just barely above a whisper.

“I don’t think he was involved,” Black Widow said to Director Fury.

“Really? And what makes you say that?”

“He set off lurid green fireworks to let us know where he was, but he wasn’t working with…” she gestured to the sullen man in a secure, soundproofed cell behind them.

“Then what reason would he have for drawing our attention there? You think he meant it as a diversion?”

Romanoff took a deep breath. “No.”

“And why not?”

“Because he’s wearing green nail polish.”

Fury’s eyebrow climbed a significant way up his forehead. “I think it’s time I had a little chat with our other guest.”

“…really neato. What kind of chip you got inside there, a-” The music shut off. Seconds later, the headphones were removed and the muzzle unfastened. Loki opened his eyes, unsurprised to see Fury sitting across the table from him.

“Alright, Loki,” he said sternly. “Sing.”

“Oh the shark has, pretty teeth, dear. And he shows them, pearly whites.” Loki snapped his fingers as best he could with his hands shackled together, somehow managing the essence of dance while sitting in the chair. “Bag of tricks, babe, is what I have. And I keep them, out of sight.”

Fury’s lip twitched upwards.

“In the shadow, of my brother, when I fell, oh, did they grieve? Tony Stark has, daddy issues, and he takes them, out on Steve. Darcy Lewis, with precision, on my fingers, painted green. But she’ll skin me, if I chip them, would I ever, be so mean? And Natasha, she suspects me, stabbing backs, oh, just for fun. If I’d wanted, don’t you think dear, that I would be, on the run?”

“I applaud your creativity,” Fury deadpanned. “Now, you weren’t working with the gentleman in a secure room downstairs. The park’s been abandoned and the company dissolved. You didn’t hurt anyone, you didn’t break anything…I don’t even think we can get you on trespassing. I’ll make you a deal: you walk out of here and pretend this didn’t happen.”

Loki didn’t bother to ask what the other half of the deal would be. Their unspoken arrangement remained intact. “Do I have to walk?”

“Let me clarify. You allow yourself to be escorted out of the building. No pranks on the way out, no distractions, no side-trips, you keep your mouth shut and you behave.” The Director’s single dark eye bored into him.

“And who, may I ask, will be doing the escorting?”

“Agent Hill.”

“A deal it is, then.”

Fury stood up and removed both shackles and muzzle before opening the door. “Agent Hill.”

“Sir?”

“Would you escort Mr. O’Kee safely out of the building?” It wasn’t a question.

“I’d be delighted.” To shoot his brains out, continued her heart.

Loki banished his armor in favor of a well-tailored suit and nodded politely to the Director before following Hill down the corridor. “I commend you on your loyalty,” he said quietly once they were past the guards.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Mr. O’Kee,” she replied sharply. “I don’t like you, and I don’t trust you. For a number of reasons, not the least of which is that you killed Agent Coulson.”

The familiar tang of guilt filled his mouth. “I admired him. Of all the death and destruction I caused, from my arrival to my capture, I regret his death the most. I would not have killed him, but his blood is on my hands and there is nothing I can do to change that.”

“You regret his death,” she spat.

“I do. After I stabbed him, he said to me, You’re going to lose. It’s in your nature. You lack conviction.” Loki shook his head. “I wish things had gone differently. What can I do, Maria Hill, to atone for his death? You are Fury’s second-in-command and this hatred you carry in your heart does not befit your station.”

“You could spend a few months being tortured,” she said crisply. “That might help.”

“The Chitauri already accomplished that.”

Hill stopped dead in the middle of the hallway and stared at him in disbelief. “You can’t expect me to believe that.”

“Then believe this,” he said, slashing one finger with a throwing knife and letting three drops spill into the cupped hand he pulled unresisting from her side. “I swear on my life’s blood, upon my honor as a Son of Odin, and on my word a prince of Asgard that Phillip J. Coulson was only slightly more dedicated to the cause of the Avengers ending the Chitauri threat than I was.”

The blood tingled as it soaked into her skin, bearing the oath with it and binding Loki to his words as his blood mingled with hers. She swallowed, feeling the prickle of solemn truth crawl over her skin, and as she stared into his pale eyes she could see the shadows of torture in their depths. Tony Stark had had the same shadows in his eyes, and she’d seen it numerous other times in the eyes of SHIELD agents that had been through hellish situations and somehow survived. Swallowing again, she closed her empty hand. Loki had been tortured by the Chitauri, and everything he’d done since arriving in Midgard had been with the single goal of destroying his tormentors utterly. Just as she knew the truth of this, though, she knew that she couldn’t tell anyone. The same magic that conveyed the knowledge to her locked it inside her body.

“I still don’t like you,” she said, struggling to scrape her composure back together.

Loki smiled, a worn and tired expression. “Fair enough. Shall we continue?”

Home again, home again, read the text he sent to Darcy as he changed from elegant clothing to casual.

That was fast, she sent back. What happened?

Contrary to Stark’s report, I was not, in fact, a bad boy. Do you have any plans for this weekend?

Nope. All clear.

Let’s go to an amusement park. I want to experience a sno-cone that doesn’t taste like despair.

Will you win me an obnoxious huge stuffed animal from one of those rigged games?

Whichever one you like.

When the reply came back, Loki could practically see the tentative smile on her face. I would like that.

“So.” Darcy bounced on her toes, fingers clutching the strap of her usual massive purse, sunglasses perched in her hair. “Where should we go first?”

“The proper answer would be ‘wherever you like’, of course, but I wish to avert unnecessary attention by spacing out my sno-cones.” Loki looked around for a moment before locating the nearest cart. “Help me pick a flavor that does not make my mouth want to die, and then we will visit whichever area you like.”

She nodded, then jogged to catch up as he strode off, looking somehow like a skittish cat in his green button-down shirt and black slacks. It was weird seeing him in casual clothes that weren’t Asgardian, somehow unnatural. He was a god, or close to it, he shouldn’t be wandering around an amusement park and ordering a cherry sno-cone and then giving her a guilty look as he remembered he should be asking her if she wants one. Good thing she’d never liked them. She gave him a minute to taste his sno-cone and then jogged up to claim his other hand. After a moment of shock, his fingers tangled with hers.

“This is repulsive,” he said quietly as she led him away. “If this was ever a cherry, I’ll give Natasha a kiss on the lips the next time I see her.”

Darcy sniggered.

“Be a dear and dispose of this for me?”

She took the offending paper cone, then casually dropped it into a trash can as they passed by. “There’s a candy shop, if you need to get the taste out of your mouth.”

He heard the hesitation in her tone; she would not say ‘I want something from there’, but she would use her skill at manipulation to finagle something from him as he indulged himself. “Darcy,” he chided, stopping her in the middle of the park’s avenue and turning her to face him. When her gaze dropped to his feet, he took her chin lightly in his hand and lifted her face until she met his eyes. “You are beautiful, strong, and clever. While the later of those is your area of expertise, it is the former two I am attempting to encourage by allowing you to pick my brain. Now. Try it again.”

Her pulse jumped beneath his fingers at the reminder that he could and would do terrible things to further whatever goal was his focus. Blue eyes still wide with fear, she shook her head in a signature move of defiance. “I want a square of the fudge they make here. Maybe two. I’ll have to see what flavors they have.”

“Better. Much better.” He offered her his arm, and she took it with only the slightest tremble of her fingers. “Remember, you are my pseudo-girlfriend and beyond that, my friend. If you cannot yet have confidence in your own strength, have confidence in mine.”

She thought about that for a minute while they walked into the shop, and then everything – gods, girlfriends, power and terrifying strength and the idea of being strong by proxy – was swept away by the sights and scents of chocolate in a dizzying array of forms. Although the display of fudge was her eventual goal, Loki’s expression mirrored hers and she pulled him with her in a slow circuit around the shop.

“What kind of chocolate do you like best?” she asked in a fearless undertone as they examined a veritable menagerie of chocolate animals.

“Dark, with something entertaining inside it,” came the slightly-distracted response. Loki wondered if any of these cleverly-molded creatures would animate properly, or if the quality of the material would mean only broken legs if they tried to walk.

In the end, Darcy walked out with a slab of bubblegum-and-marshmallow fudge while Loki nibbled in obvious delight at a piece of fudge that had peanut butter swirled through it. They meandered down the games alley while they ate, identifying which games had the hugest and most obnoxious stuffed animal prizes and how to ‘convince’ the rigged system to submit to Asgardian will. Two rides were next, a ferris wheel and the flying swings. Darcy couldn’t stop grinning at his expression on the swings; he looked like he wanted to enjoy himself but was afraid of being mocked for it. After that, an unfortunate grape sno-cone and a shared Pepsi and then, Loki holding her hand almost uncomfortably tight as the roller-coaster climbed towards the top of the first hill.

“Relax,” she hissed at him, shaking her hand free to grip the bar in front of them. “It’s perfectly safe.”

Three minutes later, they were back in front of the sno-cone stand and Loki was grudgingly admitting that peach wasn’t too bad.

“You okay?” Darcy asked as she led him to a bench and sat beside him. “You look kinda pale. I mean, more than usual.”

He crunched a bite of shaved ice for a moment before answering. “Before I encountered the Chitauri, I fell for a very, very long time. I have no fear of heights, nor of moving quickly, but the motion of that ride evoked a bit of what it was like to fall endlessly.”

She draped an arm around him and leaned into his shoulder. “Okay. No more roller-coasters.”

“You enjoy them. You should ride as many as you like. Is it not my duty as your gay boyfriend to hold your purse while you go on all your favorite rides?”

“Yeah, but it’s my duty as your friend to make sure that you enjoy your first amusement park visit, and you can’t do that if you’re just standing around waiting for me. What were the parts you didn’t like? We can try other rides.”

They tried other rides, figuring out that it was the sensation of dropping that made Loki fight screaming panic, although just being hurled around a track with no actual destination came a close second. They discovered that artificial orange flavor was unacceptable, but the more exotic fruits tasted more accurate. Darcy opted for a chocolate-dipped vanilla cone and bit back giggles as her pseudo-boyfriend experienced soft-serve ice cream for the first time tasting hers. It was such a ridiculous, couple-y thing to do that for a moment, she was tempted to kiss him – but what if he decided he wanted more? He was basically a god, and he was willing to do horrible things. Better to keep it platonic, she thought, even as his face settled into her heart to dislodge her latest untouchable celebrity crush.

“Let’s ride the ferris wheel again,” Loki said suddenly, and it was a shade too firm to be a simple suggestion.

Darcy swallowed. “Okay.”

Once they were secured in their little compartment, he turned to her and held her eyes with his. “I heard your fear,” he said gently.

Oh shit, whispered her heart.

“What I am about to tell you, I have never told another. I trust that you will hold it in the same confidence that you hold your deepest secrets.”

Still fearful but struggling to have faith, she nodded.

“I have never sexually desired anyone, of any race or gender. I do not believe that I am capable of it at all.”

“You’re asexual,” she blurted. At his look of surprise, she continued, “That’s a thing. You’re not sexually attracted to anyone. It’s cool.” Then, remembering that if he overheard her fear he might have overheard what came before it, she said, “I totally respect your boundaries.”

Relief washed over him, followed by gratitude, and he hugged her as he hadn’t embraced anyone since before the Chitauri. She laid her head on his shoulder, suddenly trusting him completely and feeling closer to him than she had to any of her boyfriends. She could trust him to not spontaneously decide he wanted sex from her, and he in turn could trust her to not hint that she wanted it or be upset when he didn’t.

“The pizza at these places is usually pretty crappy,” she said into his hair. “Let’s do burgers instead.”

He laughed softly. “As you wish, Darcy Lewis.”

For just a moment, she imagined a masked man tumbling down a steep hill yelling Aaaaassss…yooooouuuu….wiiiiiiiish…..

Nope. Not going there.

Burgers and fries and more Pepsi. They strolled through the park, hand in hand, almost like a real couple.

“No,” he said, answering the question she hadn’t asked. “I have never made a genuine attempt to court anyone. There were…social obligations, like a dance to be performed, and translating the cultural gestures has been a fascinating experience. But I have never tried to win the heart of another.”

Her fingers tightened around his, her head warm on his shoulder. “Hey,” she said, tugging his arm as she stopped. “Let’s get our caricatures done.” At his questioning look, she drew herself up haughtily. “It’s a couple thing, I think it would be cute, and I want a visual reminder of my beauty and power. Plus, I want to hang it in my cubicle and see if anyone recognizes you. I also want to see how you look to someone who doesn’t know who you are.”

“All very valid arguments.” He nodded, conceding the point, and they walked to the caricature booth.

“I don’t think it’s very flattering,” Loki said doubtfully as they walked away several minutes later.

“Hush, I think it’s cute.”

“My eyes aren’t-”

“It’s a caricature, not a portrait. The whole point is to be exaggerated.” She admired it again before closing the protective folder and tucking it into her purse.

His grey eyes lit with mischief. “Is that why he drew your purse as being big enough to hide a body in?”

Darcy elbowed him. “My purse is glorious. You’re just jealous.”

Loki struck a dramatic pose. “I am Darcy,” he proclaimed, “of Midgard. And I am burdened with glorious purses.”

For just a moment, she stared opened-mouthed at him. Then she started laughing, giggles that quickly reduced her to tears. When her knees threatened to buckle, he slid an arm around her and led her off to a bench where she laughed into his shirt for what seemed like ages.

“It’s funny because no one knows the reference,” she gasped between giggles.

“Really?”

“Really. Any footage of you without your helmet is suppressed.”

He smiled. “I see…and you are only able to make the connection because you were fortunate enough to see the footage.”

“I didn’t, actually,” she said, sitting up straight. “Erik told me about it.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You didn’t? We’re dating, and your Director did not see fit to arm you with all the data he has available?”

She snorted. “One part unbiased judgment, three parts bureaucratic bullshit. They’re above my clearance level.”

“We’re dating,” Loki repeated incredulously.

“Yeah, but I’m dating Lawrence O’Kee. The fact that that’s an alias is above my clearance level, too.”

For a long minute, he stared at her. “How does an organization like that even function with such nonsense? How much red tape did he cut through to stop me?”

“That’s your plotting look,” she said, scooting back to half-turn on the bench and face him with an accusatory finger. “What are you plotting?”

“Mischief and mayhem,” he said smoothly, grabbing her hand and pulling it close enough to kiss her knuckles. “And winning for you the biggest, most obnoxious stuffed animal this park has to offer.”

The biggest, most obnoxious stuffed animal, it turned out, was a lurid violet-and-teal plaid dolphin and the game involved rolling bowling balls over a curved track. It wasn’t long before he’d racked up enough wins to be able to point to the six-foot monster hanging proudly overhead and say, ‘That one’. By the time it had been retrieved and handed to a beaming Darcy, his performance had inspired a crowd of passers-by to try their luck and the attendants were genuine in their congratulations.

“It’s amazing,” she kept repeating as they headed for the park exit.

“I still don’t see why you wanted an eye-searing dolphin.”

“It’s not a dolphin.” Darcy stopped and shuffled her prize around until she could see him. “Don’t you see? I’m burdened with a glorious porpoise.”

This time, it was Loki that needed a bench, and he laughed until his sides hurt.

“Oh, Darcy, you are a treasure,” he wheezed finally, wiping his eyes.

She grinned at him over her prize. “I’m totally going to post this on Facebook just to make Erik groan.”

“In the meantime, allow me to teleport us to my penthouse so that pictures can be taken and then perhaps we could have dinner somewhere casual.”

“Have you had sushi?”

He looked interested. “I have not. You know a place, then?”

Darcy admired her glorious porpoise. “It seems fitting.”

Three days later, a package arrived for Mr. O’Kee. The contents of the small, flat box were a smaller, flatter box that rattled, wrapped in gold paper, and a gift card that read, Thank you for your time. – Nick. Curious, he tore the paper off and laughed to see the brand name splashed across the lid, along with the stylized image of a woman on a horse, clad in nothing but her long, flowing hair.

So, he was being thanked for doing SHIELD a favor, bribed after the fact with chocolates. Dark chocolates, he amended as he lifted the lid. Darcy must have included his tastes in her report. He popped one into his mouth and chewed happily, uncaring that he was being given treats like an obedient pet. Nick Fury appreciated his gesture enough to not only let him go without even a cursory imprisonment, but had taken the time and effort to send him a token of thanks. Lighthearted, he threw himself onto the couch and lay there, head pillowed on one arm of the couch, ankles crossed, box on his stomach, and waved the television on.

While a news station droned away in the background, he methodically devoured the entire box and wallowed in the unexpected warmth of being praised.