Every Silence
You brought a bottle of champagne and two flutes with you to the bathhouse after successfully finding a black bikini and fluffy white bathrobe in your dresser. Padding through the building in your flip-flops as you headed for the elevator felt a bit odd, but Nat had already returned with the groceries and left to do other things, and the other Avengers were nowhere to be seen.
The elevator stopped on the floor labelled ‘bathhouse’ and you stepped out into what looked like a changing room, little alcoves inset in cream stone walls where you could place your things. A tinted door at the end of the room had steam curling under the bottom of it slightly, so you bypassed benches and the alcoves, glad the door opened automatically so you didn’t have to do a balancing act with the bottle and glasses. You kicked your flip-flops off to the side before stepping through the doorway, the door sliding shut behind you.
Although you hadn’t expected anything less, the bathhouse was gorgeous. Heated stone tiles were beneath your feet, the walls made of gorgeous sandstone. Steam curled off the large pool that ran along the right side of the room, and you could see smaller, circular pools down at the end. Columns decorated the room, giving it an almost Roman feel. It looked like heaven on earth, the ceiling high and arched.
Loki was sitting in the large pool, watching you take it all in, lounging so that the water was up to his neck.
“What brings you down here?” He asked, moving from his spot along the side wall closer to you. “You didn’t seem interested when I expressed my want to visit this area of the building.”
“Changed my mind,” you said simply, slipping out of your bathrobe and placing it on a spare hook near a stone towel rack. “Or rather, Nick Fury changed my mind.”
“That explains the champagne, then,” he said, watching as you carefully filled both glasses.
“Ever since I was brought here I’ve been all wound up,” you explained, walking over to the pool and sitting down on the edge, handing him one of the flutes. “I just need to relax.”
“This is the way to do it,” Loki affirmed, sipping at the bubbly liquid. “Is this Dom Perignon?”
You checked the bottle. “It is. I wasn’t really paying attention when I raided the liquor cabinet. Oh well, Stark is loaded, I doubt he’ll miss it.”
Loki leaned against the side of the pool, displaying his bared chest, and you very pointedly confined your eyes to his head. “What are you doing perched up there? Come in the water. I’m not going to drown you.”
“That didn’t even cross my mind,” you said, sliding into the water nonetheless. It was very nice and warm, relaxing all your muscles instantly. “Ahh,” you breathed, looking over at Loki, only to see him watching you intently.
“You humans wear clothes in the baths?” He sipped his champagne, apparently confused.
“Uh, yeah. It’s a swimsuit. Why? Do Asgardians…not?”
“No? What use would we have for a ‘swim suit’?”
“It’s to preserve modesty, I guess,” you replied, taking a sip of your own drink.
“I can practically see everything anyhow,” Loki said, causing you to choke slightly. “I’d say it is not really serving its purpose.”
“Yeah, I suppose its not,” you conceded. “So you mean to tell me you’re not wearing anything right now?”
“Does that prospect excite you?” He grinned wickedly at you, and you felt yourself blush, although that might have been from the heat of the pool.
“No, I was merely curious.”
“Since you are in the presence of a prince of Asgard, I think it’s only proper you bathe the Asgardian way,” Loki suggested, raising an eyebrow.
“Nice try,” you said, rolling your eyes as you put some distant between the two of you, adjusting your bikini strap as you did so. “Don’t make me regret coming down here.”
“Come on,” he said, raising a foot up to the surface, inspecting his own toes as the water swirled around the moving appendage. “It was not merely Director Fury’s presence that brought you down here. What’s the real source of your discomfort?”
“So perceptive.” You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. “Why do you care?”
“Oh, I don’t. However, there is not much conversation with substance here, so one must inquire after the trivial things.”
“If you must know, Fury is sending me on a mission with Cap and Thor tomorrow.” You explained the situation to him. Loki was a good listener, contrary to his insistence that he didn’t care. You went past just the events of the day, complaining vaguely about Fury’s attempts to become an omniscient figure in your life, despite your longstanding wish to avoid him entirely. When you’d finished ranting, Loki breathed out, quirking his eyebrows.
“So why are you still here?”
“What?” You set your glass down so you could swirl your arms under the warm water. Loki seemed to take that as an invitation to swipe it, downing the remaining liquid before placing your glass next to his empty one.
“If you hate Fury so much, and bureaucracy in general it appears, then why are you still in Avengers Tower? You could easily leave now.”
“So could you,” you pointed out.
“No I couldn’t; you’ve seen Stark’s little seal.”
“Loki Laufeyson, you’re a goddamn god!” You splashed water in his direction, soaking his hair. It made him look like an angry, wet cat, and he shook his head out, a flash of green light drying it instantly.
“Now what in Odin’s name was that?”
“You mean to tell me that some tiny piece of technology has bested the God of Mischief? Please, I’ve seen you fight, you could easily destroy that seal. No, you’re here for the same reason as me.”
He scoffed. “Somehow I doubt that.”
“You’re here to observe Fury’s little pantomime, same as me. Let’s leave it at that,” you suggested, lifting yourself out of the water.
Loki watched you walk over to the towel rack, your wet feet slapping against the stone, before he also got out of the pool, grabbing the champagne bottle on his way over.
“Oh, don’t get out of the water on my account,” you said sarcastically, wrapping the towel around yourself and collecting your bathrobe.
“In case you forgot, I have a spectacular dinner to make, as much as I would love to lounge about here for a few more hours.” He drank straight out of the bottle and you watched him, eyebrows raised.
“Is cooking drunk part of the Asgardian routine?”
“Yes, actually,” Loki said, making the bottle disappear in a green flash. “I’m going to save that for later. Worry not, y/n. It takes a lot more than just one bottle of your mortal alcohol to inebriate a god. No need to look apoplexed.”
“Didn’t know they were still using that word,” you laughed, stepping through the door and shoving your flip-flops back on.
“Words don’t go extinct. Ways of thinking do,” Loki commented, following you to the elevator. “Ways of expressing one’s thought and one’s environment are constantly evolving. For the worse, I fear.”
“Is that why you speak like you’ve stepped right out of a Dostoyevsky novel?”
He wrinkled his nose. “Of all the literary giants you had to choose from, why Dostoyevsky?”
“I can’t help but feel as though you’re a touch like Rodion Raskolnikov,” you said, knowing just how negative a reaction that would garner from Loki.
“Raskolnikov thinks himself a superman but is not. I think myself a superman and I am,” he stated, affronted. “Honestly. I don’t see it.” With that, he firmly punched the button for the main floor and the doors closed on that conversation.
Just as he’d promised, it was around two hours before Loki had completed his feast. You could’ve done without the disembodied voice of JARVIS informing you that ‘your lord and saviour Loki’ had prepared dinner and was requesting your presence in the dining room. Tony Stark’s AI appeared to be humouring the god, if his rather unique and accurate tonal cues were any indicator.
“Oh, and he requests that you dress in proper clothing,” JARVIS said as you moved to exit the room.
“What does that mean?”
“Formal wear, I presume. At least, that’s what I told the others. His exact phrasing included ‘if I see a single person in an armoured breastplate, I will rethink our truce’.”
“Noted,” you muttered, heading over to your closet. The first thing your eyes landed on was a short black halter dress and you pulled it on, also grabbing a silver shawl, just in case the dress proved to be too showy for Loki. Silver t-strap heels fit your feet perfectly, and you gave yourself a once-over in the giant mirror that hung above your dresser, making sure everything was in place. One last adjustment of your hair and you headed down to the main level.
Natasha was wearing a stunning red wrap dress that seemed to have been designed with her specifically in mind. The men wore plain tuxedos, Banner’s and Tony’s were black, and Steve’s was the same navy blue as his Captain America suit. Thor wore heavy robes in dark shades and a red cowl. And Loki, well, Loki had definitely made sure you all remembered it was his show tonight. He wore a dark green suit, almost black, with gold accents, a black collared shirt underneath it, and a stunning gold bolo tie.
“See how much more civilized you become once you are in clothes which demand formality?” Loki said, spreading his hands at you all.
“I can still kick your ass, stilettos or no stilettos,” Nat said, shooting him a fierce look.
“No need for all the dramatics, Miss Romanoff. Your dinner is this way.” Loki led you all into the dining room and you let out a little gasp. He’d transformed Tony Stark’s modern style, having turned off all the lights and instead conjured up his own metal dishes of fire, suspending them from the ceiling with dark chains. He’d also spread a dark red tablecloth over the long, rectangular table, giving the whole room a much cozier feel. It was truly stunning.
“Feeling homesick, brother?” Thor asked as you all slid into your seats, which Loki had also assigned with helpful little place cards. You noted he’d placed himself at the head of the table, with you on his right hand side.
“I thought the humans deserved a real feast,” Loki said and flicked his wrist. A flash of green consumed the table and when it faded, a real feast indeed was atop it. He’d settled for cooking turkeys instead of goats, but it seemed no skill had been lost. Everything else spread out looked amazing, and you weren’t sure how much of it was magic or how much of it was talent on his part. “I have to get the buns from the oven, one moment.”
You exchanged surprised looks with the others, all of you schooling your features as Loki returned with a basket of steaming dinner rolls.
“Help yourselves, you can pay me compliments later,” Loki said, waving a hand at the table as he sat down, winking at you so fast you could swear you’d imagined it.
“How are we to divide up the birds, brother?” Thor asked, and you gave Nat a look, uncertain of what he meant. She didn’t seem to know either.
“One is for you,” Loki said, gesturing at the turkey nearest to Thor. “You stupid oaf.”
When Thor grabbed the turkey and plopped it on his plate with his bare hands, you were beginning to have an inkling as to why he might’ve been assigned his own bird, Loki’s comment from the grocery store echoing in your mind. But when he started ripping it limb from limb sans cutlery, you were slightly terrified.
“Y/n,” Loki got your attention, passing you some mashed potatoes. “You must eat, so we can agree once and for all I am the best cook.”
“I gotta hand it to you, Asgardian,” Tony said around a mouthful of stuffing, “you know how to make a good meal.”
“I’m a man of many talents,” Loki, vessel of modesty, preened.
You filled your plate before taking your first bite and had to regretfully admit that Loki’s culinary skills were unparalleled. Even the stew, which you had never taken fancy to before, was delectable.
Cap, who had been watching the others with uncertainty, as if waiting to see if Loki had poisoned the food, finally dug in, and you watched as his face turned from on-guard to downright jolly as soon as the food hit his tastebuds.
“Ah, brother!” Thor exclaimed, smacking his lips as he lowered his now-empty pint of mead. “You’ve brought the good stuff!”
“This is Asgardian ale?” Tony asked, taking a tentative sip of the yellowed liquid. “He’s not kidding. This is divine.” He took another gulp with much more gusto.
“Of course it is!” Thor said happily, raising his glass above his head. “Another!” With that he smashed the glass onto the floor in full force.
The table fell into stunned silence, everyone watching him for an explanation of what had just happened. Loki, naturally, was the first to weigh in.
“Excuse my brother. He has no sense of etiquette and, quite frankly, has little to distinguish himself from a barbarian.”
“When Loki and I were younger,” Thor began, and you heard Loki emit a soft sigh of resignation beside you.
“Here we go again,” he muttered.
“We had this nanny-”
“Governess.”
“-governess who told us that it was rude to say ‘more, I want more!’ when we were asking for a refill of our juice, and I was simply following what she said!”
Loki rubbed the bridge of his nose. “She told us to ask politely for ‘another glass’ and then my belligerent idiot of a brother took his crystal goblet and slammed it down as hard as he could in a repetition of what you all just saw.”
“You’re leaving something out, brother,” Thor chided. “Once he saw what I’d done, Loki copied me exactly. Ever since then, it’s been an unspoken tradition between the two of us. Sometimes I forget not everyone does it.”
“Your poor governess!” Bruce said, avoiding meeting Loki’s eyes.
“Yes, we were reprehensible menaces,” Loki admitted without compunction. “She quit the next day.”
“Just out of curiosity,” you said, propping your head up with your fist as you turned to look at Loki. “How many governesses did you go through in a year?”
“That’s an unfair question,” he replied, unimpressed.
“Loki,” Nat prodded.
“I don’t know! That was like, a thousand years ago!”
“At least one a day,” Thor said. “Eventually they’d cycle back around…”
“…just to find that we were no better than when they left,” Loki finished.
“Sometimes I think we got worse.”
“You, maybe. You were an entitled little brat.”
“And you weren’t a scheming devil thinking up new ways to get us in trouble?”
“Somehow I feel as though your jab packed a lot more of a punch than mine.” Loki frowned, returning to his meal. “I’m really trying to be civil here.”
“So, y/n,” Nat said, drawing everyone’s attention away from Loki and to you. “I hear you’re going out for a mission with some of the boys tomorrow.”
“Yep.” You pursed your lips, shifting slightly under everyone’s combined gaze. “Should be interesting.”
“I notice they put you with the most mission-friendly people,” Tony said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bruce glanced up.
“Well, I mean,” Tony launched his explanation, “you turn big and green and fuck shit up, I’m ‘difficult to work with’, or so I’ve been told, and Miss Romanoff always has her own agenda. And Loki is still a wild card, no offence.”
“None taken,” Loki said. “I enjoy being the unpredictable variable.”
“My point is, it’s obvious why y/n is heading out with Cap and Thor. They’re nice or whatever. Easy to get along with.”
“To y/n!” Thor slurred, holding up a new glass you hadn’t seen appear. The others echoed his cheers, downing the mead. You moved to try your own, but Loki placed a gentle hand on your wrist, shooting you a glance.
Leaning in, you whispered in his ear, “Did you poison the mead?”
“No.” His lips brushed your ear as he whispered back his response. “It’s just Asgardian ale, and they’ll all be out like a light by the time dinner is over. I was promised a movie, I believe.”
Running your tongue over your teeth, you sat back in your chair to look at him. He gave you an expectant look, then raised his own glass of water.
Loki was right. By the time dinner was over, they had migrated into the living room, all stumbling over each other, laughing drunkenly. Thor was the first to drop off to sleep.
“I may have put a mild sedative in his turkey,” Loki admitted as the two of you looked out over the sleeping figures. Tony was snoring and you had to bite back the laugh that bubbled up in your throat.
“It’s his own fault for eating an entire damn bird by himself,” you said, bumping your shoulder into Loki’s upper arm.
“Right!?”
“Put on something comfy and I’ll meet you in the theatre,” you said, looking up at him.
“Comfy by human standards or by Asgardian standards?”
“Try one of those cotton blends you claim to be vehemently opposed to.”
Loki was in Tony Stark’s home theatre before you, draped over one of the plush couches. He was wearing a black hoodie and grey sweatpants, and you couldn’t resist tugging the hood up over his hair as you walked in.
“Hey!” He swatted your hands away as you flopped down on the couch next to him, grabbing one of the various stray blankets and wrapping it around yourself.
“Are we in for a movie marathon? Or just the first one?”
“I don’t know what that means,” Loki said honestly, leaning his head against the back of the couch as he turned to face you lazily.
“Screen, play all the Twilight movies in order,” you instructed loudly, and the big movie screen begun the opening credits for the first movie.
Loki frowned as it begun, before he seemed to relax more, accustoming himself to the idea of a movie. Halfway through the first movie, you reclined against him, dropping your head to his shoulder without a second thought, still all swaddled up in your blanket. You felt him freeze beneath you, but you didn’t move, simply shutting your eyes and listening to the movie’s progression and Loki’s occasional commentary. ‘This is absurd!’ or ‘she’s an idiot!’. After awhile, he lowered his hand and wrapped it loosely around your shoulders.
That small bit of physical contact was all it took for you to drop off to sleep, feeling so comfortable and safe in his presence, despite all that you knew about him. It felt like no time had passed at all before he was gently shaking you awake.
“They’re over,” he said, his eyes slightly wide.
“Oh god, I’m sorry.” You straightened up, ignoring the way Loki’s arm seemed reluctant to leave you. “I must’ve been more tired than I thought. So, what did you think?”
“Terrible. Worst things I’ve ever seen,” Loki said quickly. Far too quickly. “So many movies just for her to make the obvious choice. Jacob was never an option.”
“Makes sense,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes as you looked at him. His hair was all in disarray from when you’d pulled the hood up earlier. He looked younger, an enthusiastic tone to his voice.
“Edward had more money, a better vocabulary, et cetera, he was clearly the superior choice.”
“You know, you remind me of Edward.”
Loki looked affronted. “I’ll have you know, if I were an immortal vampire, I would simply not repeat high school over and over again on an endless loop.”
“I mean, that’s not so much of a hypothetical for you, is it? You’re an immortal god, it’s basically the same difference.”
“I’m not immortal,” Loki said. “I was born like humans are, and eventually I’ll die too. Just, you know, in a greater time frame than you fragile beings.”
“Does that scare you?” You brought your feet in closer to your body. “I mean, one day you’ll just…cease to exist.”
“I know there’s an afterlife,” Loki said, plain as day. “And wherever I end up, I’m sure it will be interesting.”
“What do you mean you know?”
“You.”
“What?” You were confused. “What do you mean, me?”
“You can summon ghosts. Obviously those ghosts are being summoned from somewhere. I’d like to think it’s Valhalla.”
“I bring them back as apparitions just so they can die all over again. Sounds like Hel if you ask me.” You chewed your bottom lip, avoiding his gaze. “Brought back as a ghastly, pallid phantasm of what they once were.”
“You know what they say. Death is a great equalizer.” Loki thought for a moment, then stood up. “It’s late. You have a mission tomorrow.”
“What? So you’re being responsible now?” You didn’t really want to get up. “And to think I became friends with you because you were the reckless, wild one.”
“What was that?” Loki had stopped dead in his tracks and was just staring at you.
“Sorry, I mean, you’re fun most of the time but sometimes you get a little serious, like right now, and it’s a little bit like woah! Is this Loki, God of Mischief and Jokes or Loki, God of Stoic Advice?”
“Stop that ridiculous chatter,” Loki said with a wave of his hand. “I’m referring to before that. You called me your friend.”
“Uh, yeah?”
“I don’t do ‘friends’.”
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, would you prefer I called you an acquaintance? Or simply a means to an end?” You didn’t know when you’d risen to your feet, but now you were standing, glad he’d moved towards the exit already so you didn’t have to look up to look him in the eye.
“The latter, preferably.” With that, he took his leave. You couldn’t really blame him. After all, once upon a time, you’d felt the same way. Sometimes you still did.
Everyone was just a means to an end, because it was always easier to lose a pawn than a queen.