Liar
When you woke up, you were amazed to not have even a semblance of a hangover. You sniffed in confusion, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch your right ankle roll and stretch under the sheets, testing it for the damage you remembered, though it felt perfectly fine. The covers were grey. Grey? Wait—who’s sheets were those? Who’s bed was this? It sure as shit wasn’t yours. Though you weren’t a big drinker, you knew you weren’t a promiscuous drunk. It was not like you to just wake up in a stranger’s bed after a night of indulgence.
You remembered bits and pieces of the night. The temptation to jump, your slip and subsequent ankle twist… There was yanking, crashing, yelling, puking, but that was all disjointed. Stinging in your knees. Stephen Strange’s face was somewhere in the mix, reassuring you, promising help. He was mad at someone… Protecting you. Blush was heavy and warm on your cheeks. Doctor Strange didn’t live at Stark Tower but that didn’t mean Stark didn’t loan him a room for the night… Could this be…?
You pushed yourself out of bed and crept to the door, looking around all the while in case someone happened to pop out. Through the door was a kitchen you didn’t recognize either. It was unoccupied. You sighed away the tension and stepped out, confident that you could leave here unnoticed and find your way back to your dorm, or better yet, find the doctor and thank him properly for taking care of you. You smirked. Wait… Would that count as employee fraternization? Ugh.
The bedroom door opened a little wider to reveal the living room. There was a glass coffee table, topped with a pen with the cap removed and a small stack of white notecards with gold-trim. You could see a few of the cards had been scribbled on but were scratched out or crumpled. Who was the doctor writing to so late at night, you wondered? Then, your eyes trailed to the couch, upon which slept Loki Laufeyson. A gasp caught in your throat as you put a hand over your open mouth. His giant frame overtook the couch, one leg slung onto the floor, the other hung back over an armrest. His neck was turned all the way out so he was “facing” you. His right hand rested over his chest, long fingers spread wide like the branches of an oak tree. He looked like an ancient painting, like a man professing something deep and moving. You recognized the position as one that was destined to lead to a sore neck and felt a brief pang of pity before rolling your eyes at yourself. All his midnight locks that were normally a key component to his broody, intimidating presence were like strands of kelp, graceful and relaxed, falling over his hollow, cotton-white cheeks. You’d never seen his face so blissful and calm, not once muscle tense. He was so still that you wondered if he was breathing until a puff of air crossed his lips and his chest sank.
You were oppressed by two conflicting feelings. The first was intense curiosity and surprise. Loki had a home. A home that you were in. What could be hidden in here that might reveal more about him…? Was it worth snooping around to see what you could find? Your eyes focused back on the notecards… Who had he been writing to? What was so urgent and special that lead him to waste all those trashed cards? Somehow, you’d landed in his bed, but he (seemingly) didn’t get into it with you. What was that about?
Your more sensible side was chilled by fear. Loki was bloodthirsty, vicious, arguably insane, and betrayed everyone he knew, including his own family. The only reason he was in this tower was to atone for the arguably unforgivable crimes he’d committed. The lives he ruined and stole, the planets he ravaged, his thievery, the list went on. What if you were the one who snuck into his bed and he’d ended up on the couch by a blessing of fate, or worse, luck? Yup. There was no possible way he knew you were here. If he were to find out… You couldn’t bear to think of the consequences. You suddenly felt very, very cold. You had to get the fuck out of there, like, now.
Loki made a soft sound, his face twitching as he struggled against a dream, and that was it for you.
You burst from his dorm, not even bothering to look for your shoes or trying to quiet the door when it closed. You bolted like an unbroken horse busting out of a stall, remembering the months of training you did to earn this job. All those miles you ran with weighted packs strapped to your back weren’t for nothing, after all. God, you were fucking lucky that your ankle didn’t turn out worse. It wasn’t until you came across a person, probably some analyst or something, that you stopped literally running for your life.
“Hey! Hey,” you said, practically screeching to a halt. “What floor is this? What time is it?” Your head whipped to look behind you, making sure that no one was following you. He looked frazzled, seriously confused if not startled by your behavior and state of dress. “God damn you, floor and time. Floor and time!”
His eyes went over your shoulder.
“Umm…” he said.
You looked back again, seeing that unfortunately familiar mass of black hair peeking out towards the other end of the hallway. Loki’s pallor had just turned from investigating the other side of the hall to look at you, and you were already sprinting again.
“Shit,” you hissed. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.”
By the time you’d figured out where you were (the 95th floor) and had finished making the mad dash to end all mad dashes back to your place (the 37th), that skimpy black dress you’d picked for yourself last night had ridden impossibly higher up. If you thought it was revealing before, the line that dress towed now would beg to differ. You slammed your door behind you, locked it, and shuddered. That was close.
The doorknob seized when you tried to twist it, confirming it was locked. Relief. A slow, chest-decompressing sigh was the only noise in the room. To the right was your kitchen and you could see the microwave clock over the bar that read 7:30. You were due for a morning briefing with Stark and the gang at 8. Shit.
You stormed through the house like you had something to prove. Between a song-length shower, wearing the tightest bun possible to hide the fact that you didn’t have time to blow dry your hair, and eating a peach for breakfast on the walk up to the office, you pummeled the notion of being late. Not only would the teasing be brutal if you were late, but you had no hangover to excuse yourself. If you were a better actor, maybe you could’ve faked one. Even if you’d been known to gab with your coworkers after hours, you took your reputation and job very seriously. The aftermath of one stupid party was not going to get in the way of the respect and status you fought for.
These morning briefings were typically trivial. Tony expected you to take notes on anything that might require you setting up a meeting, stock, and other general concerns. For being in such a high position in a powerful company like Stark Industries, this aspect of the job seemed cartoonishly low-brow. That said, it was a nice way to almost meditate. It was a solid hour every Monday morning where you sat in front of everyone, back stiff, legs crossed and perched on your stool, while you scribbled and kept to yourself. No one would ask you anything, there was no chasing, no barking orders, no orders being barked. Tranquil.
You made it in at 7:55, slipping in with the clack of your heels masked under the chatter of the Avengers and other staff that huddled around the concessions table. It seemed Tony had treated everyone to donuts this morning. Though you still had a few bites of the peach left, you knew you’d be hungry… That, and donuts were fucking delicious, obviously. You squeezed through and reached for the first thing you could get your hands on: a vanilla ring with strawberry icing and rainbow sprinkles. The first bite, taking nearly half the pastry, was in your mouth within seconds. You hummed to yourself in appreciation, stepping back from the crowd.
“There she is!” Stephen said, patting you on the shoulder. “How did all those bourbons treat you? You shouldn’t look this well-rested, little patient.” He laughed and as you smiled up at him, still chewing, his gaze fell to your lips. His face quirked into a playful mask of confusion. You pulled back in shock when his hand lifted, the wide back of his pointer finger sliding up your chin and collecting the peach juice you hadn’t bothered to wipe in your rush to be on time. “What’s this?”
“Mmf—” you tried not to choke as you began. “Peesh.” You held up your other hand, indicating the fruit with a small chuckle. Your voice was muffled as you covered your mouth, trying to be polite as you finished the bite of donut. Stephen angled his hand back towards himself, watching the glisten of the peach juice on his fingers as if he were considering licking it off, and then wiped it on his pants.
“God, I love peaches,” he said. “So tasty…each time I bite into one, I’m tempted to suck the pit until it’s smooth just to make sure I get it all.”
Your eyes had never been so wide.
You’d never honestly put much serious thought into the idea of being with Stephen Strange, but between his demeanor last night and that fucking comment, you were suddenly confronted with the possible reality of that man being into you. Was this even allowed? You’d be sure to brush up on the employee handbook when you were back in your office… You finally swallowed and struggled for words.
“This isn’t the 1600’s, Strange,” Tony said, giving Stephen a brotherly pat on the chest as he led him towards the conference table. “You can’t just say shit without thinking first. You’ll give someone the wrong idea.” Tony winked at you, and you blanched.
“No, no, it’s fine,” you said. “Peaches are my favorite, too. I totally get it.” You offered Doctor Strange an understanding smile.
"How’s that ankle?”
“You hurt your ankle?” Tony said. You could feel the color drain from your face with embarrassment. If you weren’t still so worked up about Stephen’s peach-thing, you would’ve been mad at him for basically ousting you for being a rowdy drunk in front of your boss.
“No, I—”
“She fell on me right as the fire dancers started performing,” Stephen said. “Took her to her office and she bumped her head… Poor thing spilled her drink all over herself and broke her cup. I didn’t know if she’d even be able to find her room.”
“Thor would’ve been proud,” Tony said. You grimaced, remembering all the mugs that blonde Asgardian had smashed and pre-mourning the ones he had yet to smash. You’d actually ended up adding the cost of a monthly shipment of cups into the company budget because of Thor. “How are you feeling though? I don’t want you suing me over some party foul.”
“Guys, seriously, I’m fine. It’s like it never happened. I made it home safe, took some aspirin and iced it, I can’t feel a thing.” You hoped they wouldn’t look too deep into your lie and would just trust your word. No one could know that you’d spent the night in Loki’s bed. As of now, the secret was between you, Loki, and possibly that so-and-so you verbally abused in the hall. Lord willing, that kid would be so afraid based on your demeanor that he’d keep your interaction to himself. If anyone knew… God, you’d never hear the end of it. For being fully-grown adults, these people savored a rumor like it was prime rib. Not to mention a development like that could fuck up your possibly-existent chances with the doctor.
“How did you get back?” Tony said.
“Walked. It’s time to start, Tony.” You tapped on your wrist, indicating an invisible watch.
“You walked back on that ankle? You could barely take someone breathing near it before I left,” Steven said. He looked down at you with wide eyes and nostrils flared. He looked livid. You could see he was making the only natural conclusion: if you were telling the truth, Loki must have left you behind.
“You left her like that?” Tony said, now turning to the doctor, who put up his hand in defense and opened his mouth to speak before you interrupted them. You went from being cold to getting way too hot under the pressure and in your haste this morning had forgotten deodorant. If they kept the round of questioning up, soon everyone in the room would be able to literally see and smell how uncomfortable you were.
“Guys, meeting. Let’s go,” you said.
“Alright then, Peaches One and Peaches Two,” Tony said. “Let’s get this meeting over with.”
The meeting was going swell. It was about thirty minutes in. You’d perfected the art of looking focused and diligent while doodling childish little flowers, moons, and suns all over your notepad. Things were running quicker than normal as well. In that short half hour, Tony had already breezed through the few cards in the employee suggestion box (a few of which were put in as a joke, like the one that read “Stark Tower needs more jukeboxes” in Steve Rogers’s penmanship) and updated the Avengers’ new training schedule now that more eyes would be needed to monitor Loki. Until there was an emergency, it was hard to say when they would be needed, so the plan was to keep them busy, strong, and ready. Tony asked them to consider a sleeping rotation where at least one of the heroes would stay next to Loki’s room at night until everyone was more confident about his reform, but the idea was still in workshop, so it was brought up and put to bed in under a minute. All that was left was—who the fuck was knocking on the conference room door?
Who the fuck else?
Loki peered into the room like a child eavesdropping on his parents, his face tight with a smirk.
“Unh uh, nope. Trusted members of society only,” Tony said, waving Loki out.
“Well surely the lady would like her shoes back,” Loki said, stepping in further. His arm raised; the straps of your heels were hooked over his two fingers so they dangled in the air like Christmas ornaments. You felt your chest tighten as your heart skipped a beat. In your eyes, he might as well have been holding a grenade. Maybe that would have been better, you thought.
“Pardon?” Tony said. Clearly the rest of the gang would be confused, and you were mentally scrambling to talk your way out of this. Well, all but one should be confused. Your eyes flickered to Doctor Strange, trying to be subtle, but he was staring at you already and made instant eye contact. Fuck. He did not look like he approved. His head was cocked to the side, one eyebrow raised sternly and jaw ticked like he was fighting himself from reprimanding you right then and there.
“Well,” Loki said with a breathy laugh as he gestured to you. “A certain Cinderella forgot these when she left my room this morning. It only seemed polite to return them… They aren’t even in my size.” He donned that shit-eating grin as the rest of the room turned to see every muscle in your body go rigid. He waltzed towards you as slowly as he could, drawing out the moment, before setting the shoes next to you. “These are yours, aren’t they, darling?” Loki nodded as he encouraged you. The soft tone of his voice betrayed what you could only assume were his true intentions—to humiliate and horrify. Well, Loki, you thought, mission accomplished.
Your heart was pounding in your throat as you looked again at Doctor Strange, who now had his arms crossed over his chest. You fought to unclamp your jaw as you practically growled out a “yes.”
Loki walked back to the door with no noise besides the shuffle of his pants. Relief whispered at your ankles until he whipped around, leaning in the doorway with one elbow above his head and catching everyone’s attention yet again.
“How rude of me, I nearly forgot to ask,” Loki said. “I trust my spells were ‘just as the doctor ordered’? No hangover, no ankle injury, no scrapes on those delicate knees of yours?”
“Oh, Peaches,” Tony said, quivering as he tried not to cackle. “You have some explaining to do. Meeting adjourned.” He clapped once as if his hands were a film slate before spreading his arms wide, signaling that everyone should leave immediately.
Never did you think you’d be so resentful of another person’s unadulterated joy. Tony crowded you the second that the room was, well, almost empty. Doctor Strange lingered, arms still folded as he glowered at you. He was perfectly composed, but under his collectedness, you knew there was a whole cocktail of ugly emotions just waiting for someone to take a sip. Tony, on the other hand, looked like a kid who just found out they were going to Disneyland.
“No way out of this one. Tell me everything,” Tony said. He rubbed his palms together and grinned down at you.
“I really don’t remember much from last night. I’m just as confused as everyone else.”
“But you clearly remembered an unlikely and miraculous stroll home, taking an aspirin, and icing the ankle you twisted,” Strange said, his sarcastic tone firm and low. It stung. You’d thought it was a harmless lie, but apparently Stephen took it as a personal offense.
“Oh my God…” you said, “This really isn’t fair. Doctor, I remember going to my office, someone coming in and arguing with you, and waking up in Loki’s bed. The moment I realized I was—”
“So, the sex wasn’t memorable?” Tony said.
“Tony, enough,” you said. “I really don’t think anything happened.”
“If anything did happen, he did it when you were drunk and obviously could use his magic to keep you from feeling it. I should have never left you alone with that guy,” Strange said, jabbing his finger towards you. “This is a problem.” He made a quick swooping motion with his hands, summoning a man-sized ring of gold. It swirled, shimmered, and splintered as he stepped through it. His teleportation portal closed directly behind him before you could say anything or try to stop it.
Godfuckingdamnit.
It seemed everyone was lingering outside. The hallway sounded loud, even from inside the conference room. Whether Loki had pulled the plug on that hangover spell or the gravity of the situation had finally come down on you, your stomach was fluttering with nausea and the pressure in your temples built. You leaned your face into your hands, resting your elbows on your knees.
Stephen’s insinuation about last night was dreadful. Would Loki have—
Were you—
You didn’t even want to think the word. Your eyes were starting to sting. This whole thing was so overwhelming… All you’d wanted last night was to have a nice time at a party. You did not want to cry. Not here. Not now. Not in front of your boss, especially.
“Okay, I guess I can see why you lied,” Tony said. You chuckled coldly and looked up at him, resting your chin in your palms. Tony swallowed and poked his tongue into his cheek as he stared at your swollen, red-rimmed eyes. He lifted his hand to pat your shoulder and then decided against it, letting it fall awkwardly at his side. “Don’t worry about it. Doctor’s got time-magic shit… Um, he’ll—he’ll figure it out.”
“Yup,” you said, hoping your sharp tone would get Tony to shut up.
“And if it does turn up that Loki, um…”
“Tony.”
“I’ll fucking castrate him. I don’t care if he’s a God.”
“It seems like you’ll have to get in line behind Doctor Strange.” You fiddled with your hands and smirked. It was nice to be cared for.
“And, um, I want to offer you some time… It doesn’t have to be now. Just take a week off. Whenever you want it, let me know. You work hard. That party was supposed to be a breather.”
“I miss my family,” you said, barely squeaking the words out as the tears finally fled to your cheeks. You hoped no one outside could hear you crying over the clamor of their own conversations. Honestly, it seemed pretty rude that they would all hang around like that. The morning had already been overwhelming enough, the last thing you needed everyone to see was the aftermath of you crying. You’d lived on campus for two years since being hired and could count the times you’d seen your loved ones in person on one hand and still have fingers to spare. Just one weekend off would have been enough.
“I know,” Tony said. The scrunch in his brow told you that he knew even if you really did miss your family, saying you were homesick was a way to avoid the real issue. He finally worked the nerve to pat your shoulder and squeezed it. You could tell he was struggling to sense where your boundaries were. In fairness, you were struggling to sense them yourself. For now, this small touch was okay, and you smiled up at Tony to let him know.
That’s when you realized that the din in the hallway was shouting. There was about to be a fight.
You and Tony glanced at the door at the same time. Your back straightened as you tried to decide if it was better (or even safe, considering the powers of those around you) to check it out or stay inside. Tony took a few cautious steps forward, as if anyone out there would have heard or been deterred by him overhearing. The stool creaked when you stood up and Stark pressed his palm back towards you, a silent “stay there.”
When he cracked the door open and peaked through, you could finally understand the yelling.
“—what the fuck you did to her before I send you to a dimension a lot less forgiving than this one,” Stephen said.
“That’s quite rich considering the scene I stumbled upon when I found you with her. Go on, then, search the rooms,” Loki said. You started walking as quietly as possible up to the door, trying to keep Tony from hearing you behind him. “If your ego is too proud to check, send me back to prison, then.”
“If you think I won’t be able to find you when I’m done, you’re in for a shock. Rest assured it’ll be much easier for you to tell the truth now than to force me to see it.”
“I can’t wait to hear what you discover,” Loki said. You’d finally made it to the door, unheard, and peered over Tony’s shoulder. The hallway was silent as you watched another one of Stephen’s portals close up behind him. You’d heard of this power before but had never played such an intricate role in him using it. Apparently, with his universal awareness, he was able to enter a room and see things that had happened in it, like a kind of time travel. By now, he would’ve been temple-deep in your office and then Loki’s apartment.
From over Stark’s shoulder, you saw Loki deflate and lean against the wall. He looked exhausted, rubbing his hands over his eyes and grunting in frustration. It may have only been thirty seconds before Stephen transported himself back, but it felt like centuries.
“Well?” Loki said.
Stephen didn’t acknowledge him, instead looking over Tony’s shoulder and pointed at you. You ducked but didn’t miss him calling out to you.
“Don’t ever lie to me again,” he said. Your stomach dropped. Stephen’s cape whipped and snapped as he stormed off. No one said a word until he was out of sight.
“That’s good news,” Tony said.
“That’s payback for the shoes, I suppose?” Loki said to you, his fists clenching and unclenching. “I tried to protect you, take care of you. Can you fathom what an accusation like that could have done to me?”
“But you can waltz in here and ruin my reputation as a professional?” you said. You took a step forward, trying to push past Tony, who blocked you with his arm.
“Total misunderstanding. This is on me and Strange,” he said to Loki. He kept his arm out so you couldn’t get to Loki. “Peach, why don’t you take the day?”
“I can’t afford the time. Plus, I trashed my office—”
“I cleaned it,” Loki said.
“You…why?” You didn’t mean to scowl at him, but in your anger and confusion, it was the only expression you could muster.
“A thank you would suffice.” Loki was looking at the floor now, defeated. On another man, it may have looked like a childish gesture, but on him, it looked like surrender. He was done. You huffed, feeling like an ass, your shoulders drooping.
“Peach,” Tony said. “Go home. Now.” His tone had changed from that of a man comforting a friend to a boss giving an order. So, you listened. You walked back to your apartment, your ears humming from the emotional cooldown.
This was a rare walk through Stark Industries where the building seemed quiet and empty. Almost everyone else was working, muddying labs or hunched over desks. You didn’t see the corridors this peaceful very often, but it was a welcome surprise. It was an opportunity to zone out, which you eagerly took advantage of. Your daydreams were static fuzz, so thick that you didn’t notice the man leaning against the wall next to your apartment door.
“Are you alright?” Doctor Strange said. You gasped, your gaze breaking from the far wall to look up at him.
“I—Stark sent me home.” You reached for your keys but kept your distance from Stephen, unsure why he was there and still embarrassed from him yelling at you. You couldn’t look at him, training your eyes on the number plaque.
“That’s my fault.” You saw him nodding from the corner of your eye.
“It’s not,” you said, hoping for the second time that being short would end a conversation that you didn’t want to have.
“Can I come in? I really owe you an explanation…An apology.” His voice was measured and calm, like he was overcompensating for lashing out at you. He probably practiced that tone often as a doctor. Stephen took a step closer to you but when you stepped back and looked even further away, he backed up again and showed you his palms in innocence. It was like he was trying to prove he wouldn’t do any more damage.
“I’d like to be alone, please,” you said.
“That’s fair. Maybe another time? We could do lunch?”
The look you shot him must have appeared deadly, because he immediately followed up by saying, “Platonically. In public. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” His grey-blue eyes bore into yours, bleeding empathy. You looked him up and down, nose scrunched as you worked through a cocktail of annoyance, suspicion, and endearment. Part of you was secretly smug at the idea of making the doctor feel suspense, even if your frustration was a bit petty and misplaced. He was a nice enough guy, but so arrogant. He could stand to sweat.
“Doesn’t Stark have some type of rule about employee fraternization?” you said, crossing your arms and shifting your weight to one foot. Your head tilted, challenging the doctor.
“There isn’t. Not for platonic meetings, at least… Anyways, I don’t work for Stark.”
“Oh,” you said too quickly. “Um, I’ll think about it.” Your gaze flashed between him and your door, silently asking him to leave. He nodded and stepped away from the door.
“Get some rest, little patient,” he said, “I’m so sorry about today. About everything.”