Chapter 7
Loki kept to himself for most of that first week, avoiding the Avengers as much as he could. He’d gone longer without sleep, but by the eighth day, his eyes were starting to feel so heavy he thought they might never open again if he shut them.
Of course, that had to be the night it started to rain.
A flash of eerie blue light lit up the room, and thunder came chasing its heels.
Loki had no problem sleeping through a thunderstorm.
. . . Before.
Before New York had happened, before the Chitauri happened, before He happened.
The lightning had a sort of dangerous beauty he couldn’t deny he admired, but the thunder . . .
Crack, BOOM!
Loki shrank further into the blankets of his bed, trying to block the sounds out with his pillow.
No matter how he anticipated the thunder that would surely follow the flashes of light, Loki couldn’t help but flinch at each new wave of rolling thunder.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he sorely wished his brother were here instead of in Asgard (Thor would’ve been able to calm it, at least), but quickly pushed the thought away.
The Captain’s words reoccurred to him.
If you ever need help, come find me.
Dare he take the Captain on his word?
CraCK, BOOM!
Loki jumped, taking no time in leaving the room, frantically trying to gather his fearful thoughts into coherent threads as he scanned the darkened hallways of the tower.
Where was the Captain’s room again?
In the end, It didn’t take him long to locate the room. It was kind of hard not to notice the door decorated in red, white, and blue stickers. A sign hung on the doorknob with the nickname “Spangles” printed in crayon.
Loki paused at the door.
Did he really need to do this?
Of course not, he told himself sternly. It’s just a bit of thunder.
Pathetic.
With that thought, he turned with a defeated sigh, about to head back to his room.
Crack, Boom!
Although not as loud as from his room, Loki still froze at the sound. Another, quieter sound followed it. So quiet, in fact, that Loki thought he imagined it.
Until he heard it again, coming from the Captain’s bedroom.
Whimpering?
Loki turned back to the door, took a deep breath, and knocked softly before pushing it open.
The Captain, who had apparently been woken up, sat up against the headboard of his bed. He squinted up at Loki, no doubt trying to make out who had woken him up.
“What’s the matter?” he said finally, a tight smile on his face, “Scared of a little lightning?”
Weren’t you the one whimpering just now? Loki wanted to retort, but found he couldn’t speak. His throat had gone dry, and he had to remind himself to breathe.
Just say . . . Pink.
“Pink,” Loki muttered, acutely aware of how ridiculous he must look standing in the doorway.
“Wait, you are?” the Captain frowned, sitting up and getting out of bed to turn the light on.
Loki nodded, albeit slowly.
Another flash of lightning, and both men tensed.
BOOM!
The Captain flinched as Loki hummed quietly, trying and failing to suppress the note of fear in it.
“Yeah, I’m not a fan, either,” The Captain said, gesturing to let Loki come in. He left the door open halfway, “You can stay with me until the storm passes. Watch tv? Read a book, I guess? Just make sure to turn the lights off before you leave.”
He got back in bed, and patted the spot next to him.
A little awkward, Loki sat on the bed next to him, keeping his legs off the side of the bed.
“Thank you, Captain,” Loki said, conjuring up a book to read.
“Steve,” was the mumbled response. Already, the Captain’s eyes were closed, his face and body relaxing yet again as he fell back into sleep.
“. . . Steve.” Loki amended quietly.
The insistent claps of thunder soon calmed to distant rumbling, and Loki had fallen asleep before he even realized the storm had gone.
Searing heat coursed through him, the familiar smell of smoke and burning flesh flooded his senses.
Fire. All around him. Leaping at his feet. Licking at his face. The Other’s hideous face, twisted in a cruel sneer.
He’d been here before, but something felt different.
The Captain—Steve—stood across from him. Oblivious or indifferent to the fire around them, his mouth open in a soundless scream, his eyes fixed in horror at Loki.
The monster.
He looked at blue hands, counted the heritage lines that marked them. His vision tinged a bright red.
He reached for Steve, but the Other stopped him, whip lashing out to pull him back. Loki knew happened next.
When Loki started crying out, Steve deliberately looked away.
Dozens of two-thumbed hands grabbed at him, dragging him, pinning him down. At this point, Loki started to beg, strangled cries of fear tumbling freely from his lips.
The Other leaned over him and whispered, but Tyr’s voice fell from his lips instead.
“This is all you’ll ever be good for.”
“Loki!” someone was shaking him. Instinctively, Loki lashed out, shoving harshly at the contact. The someone tumbled to the floor with a thump. Loki blinked, the nightmare giving way to reality.
“S-steve?”
“Uh . . . yeah.”
All at once, the events from last night returned to him, and Loki scrambled out of the bed.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t realize. I shouldn’t be here, I—“
“It’s okay,” Steve said, waving his arms dismissively at him, “I used to do the same thing with Nat.”
“Nat? As in Natasha, the spy assassin, Nat?”
“Yeah,” Steve nodded, “I know she seems intimidating when you first meet her, but she’s really the kindest, softest person you’ll ever meet.”
“Are we talking about the same person?” Loki asked.
Steve chuckled, shaking his head.
“Let’s go get you some breakfast,” he said, “Your brother’s back. I think he brought you something.”
“He’s not my brother,” Loki muttered, but followed him to the kitchen anyway.