Chapter 15
Loki and Stark return to the tower by their own means, with Stark opting to take the aerial route back into the building—leaving Loki to take the elevator.
It's the middle of the night by the time they get back from their meeting with S.H.I.E.L.D—registering Cerys formally to whatever faction of the organization that dealt with tracking individuals with extraordinary genetic abnormalities. Cerys was well known in New York's branch of the organization, of course, but it was their obligation nonetheless to not draw any excess attention to her presence in the city. Best way to do that was to inform them first.
Granted, it had momentarily taken a turn for the worst when they began questioning Loki's intentions for using the serum, questioning whether or not he was scheming after something. And if Stark hadn't been there, there's no telling where that would have gone. The tension in that vast conference room could have been cut with a knife.
And so, foul-tempered and angry, Loki trudged into the elevator and waited impatiently for it to reach the top floor.
The penthouse was dark when the doors opened, and quiet—save for the television light streaming over the couches. Loki approached it slowly, following the streams of light to where Cerys lay—right where he left her that morning. Only this time, she had shifted to the other side, with the blanket strewn over her differently.
She must have woken at some point during the day.
Loki's eyes flickered over the cell phone laying on the table, and he swallowed thickly—wondering if she'd checked it. The phone had rung thrice from her coat last night, as he sat up beside her on the couch. Loki ignored it the first and second time, knowing who it must have been, but the third time was the charm.
He stood and sauntered over to it, sliding it out from the deep coat pocket, and looked at the screen. As expected, it was Michael calling. Loki hesitated at first, but quickly submitted to the temptation of pressing 'answer.'
"Hello," he mused into the device.
"Uh… hello?" Loki frowned as the man's repugnant voice polluted his ear. "Who is this? Is—is Cerys there?"
"Michael," Loki crooned. "This is Loki. And yes, Cerys is here—a bit out of commission at the moment, she can't come to the phone."
The call went silent. "Oh," he muttered, the annoyance growing in his tone. "Well is that why she hasn't answered all day? She's got work tomorrow and she was supposed to come over and look at apartments with me today—what's going on with her?"
Loki stiffened, swallowing thickly as a wave of jealousy burned through his chest.
Looking at apartment homes together? That was certainly news—no doubt following his indiscretion with her roommate… Loki had never intended for her to find out, though he had briefly considered what would happen, that morning when he turned over in Rita's small bed. Instead of pulling her back, through some deeply rooted realization of her feelings toward him, the act had pushed her toward another man.
"She had a bit of a fall," Loki answered tersely. "She's hasn't woken up yet."
"…wait, what?" the tension drained as Michael's voice grew more panicked. "Oh my God, is she okay? Is she in the hospital?"
"No, she's at Stark tower at the moment."
"Pepper's place? Why's she there? Can I come see her?"
"She's not awake to greet you."
"If she's been knocked out all day, why haven't you guys taken her to the hospital?"
"She'll receive better care here than anywhere else, I assure you."
"No offense, but unless you guys are doctors, I think she needs to see one." Loki's jaw clenched at the intentness of his voice. "I'll come get her if you guys are too busy."
"What you want to do is irrelevant," Loki snapped. "Don't come here. You'll only disturb her."
"…excuse me?" the man's voice dropped low. "Who the fuck are you to tell me not to come and see my girlfriend?"
Loki pressed his lips together silently, focusing his gaze on one of the dark corners of the room.
"Who else is there?" Michael demanded.
He paused. "It's just me, at the moment."
More silence ensued.
"What the hell is going on?"
"I told you, Cerys had a fall. That's why she hasn't answered any of your correspondences."
"No, I'm talking about you two."
A hint of satisfaction gleaned from Loki's chest. "I'm sorry, what exactly are you implying?"
"Cut the crap, man," Michael's voice suddenly took on a forthright tone—as though he'd been waiting on a reason for this confrontation. "You want to tell me that her best friend's kept her around unconscious, from a fall that was bad enough to knock her out, and hasn't take her to a hospital?" he paused. "She's been acting weird around you since you came to town, and now you're answering her phone after she ignores me all day?"
He rolled his eyes, "I assure you, Michael, she's quite steadfast in her loyalties."
"Glad you've tested it out."
Loki chuckled, impressed by the man's boldness—perhaps something they had in common—though the sentiment was heavily overshadowed by his amusement with the conversation. "Well you're quite sharp, aren't you?"
"Yeah, she loves that about me."
Loki's smile faded, clenching with his jaw. "I'll have her call you when she's well."
"Yeah, sure."
And that was all he said. With a heavy tap, Michael hung up the phone.
Loki blinked away the memory as he scanned Cerys' length—still laying motionlessly on the couch. If she'd been awake earlier in the day, then perhaps there was no need to stay up and watch her this night. He considered it as he sauntered around the edge of the couch, and strolled up to her. There was almost no change in her appearance—nothing to suggest she'd been awake. Only her positioning, which was opposite of what it was earlier that day.
"Cerys," he murmured, bending over to brush a lock of hair out of her face. She shifted slightly, and Loki pulled back as her eyes opened a bit.
"Loki?" she murmured. He stepped back as he watched her shift upright. "What—what time is it?"
"Just after midnight."
Cerys' face remained taut as she looked up at him—quickly averting eye contact— and nodded in acknowledgement. Loki furrowed a brow at the small deviation from her waking tone, and stepped off to the side, making room for her eyes to trail back toward the television behind him. They flickered toward him once more as he sat on the couch beside her, and she gave a full, sidelong glance before pulling her feet up onto the leather seat, nestling into the corner.
They sat in quiet for some time, both eyeing the screen that was mounted on the wall. Not a single thing that flickered across it registered in Loki's mind, and he wondered if it was the same for her.
"How are you feeling?" he finally asked.
When she didn't answer, Loki turned toward her. The look on her face was utterly unreadable.
"I'm okay," she mumbled, sensing his eyes on her.
"Good, I'm glad to hear that."
Loki continued to stare at her for a bit, but Cerys was unyielding—she kept her eyes fixed on the television, reveling in her own stubbornness. Frustration bloomed slightly in Loki's chest. He had saved her life, after all—that must have entitled him to a conversation.
"When—"
"What did you say to Michael?" she interjected sharply, slicing her eyes toward him. "You answered my phone, didn't you?"
Loki kept his face taut, and nodded. "I did."
"Why?"
"We didn't know how long you would be asleep—would you have rather had him worry about you?"
"And you answered just to tell him I was hunky-dory? He isn't answering my calls now, Loki, he always answers my calls," she took the phone and thrust it to him frustratedly, before dropping it on the couch between them. "What did you say to him?"
"I only told him that you had a fall, and that you weren't awake to answer him."
The intentness in her eyes faltered a bit. "Is that it?"
"Yes, that's it. If you're looking for an explanation to his silence, he was unhappy that I answered the phone for you, and asked him not to come to Stark tower."
"Why would you tell him that?"
"Because we had no other explanation to give him. He wanted to collect you and take you to the hospital—what would he have thought, when the doctors came back and told him there was no head injury? Or that there was something abnormal about your blood, from whatever tests they might've run?" Cerys looked at him quietly. "He would have thought you missing if I hadn't answered, and that would've made matters worse. I did everyone a favor, including you."
Cerys turned her eyes back to the TV without another word, and without a change in her expression. Sadness crept into the corners of her eyes, and Loki watched her for a moment, catching the way her eyes flickered toward him a few more times.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked.
"Your eyes seem lighter."
She rolled them back to the TV. "Yeah. Pepper said that too."
"Has anything else changed?"
"No."
"Let me have a look at them," he said, sliding toward her.
Cerys turned toward him sharply. "No," she said, and he paused mid-slide, though he was already close to her.
"Why?"
Uncertainty fluttered through her expression as she turned back to the TV, eyes glistening under the flashing lights. She pressed her lips tightly into a thin line, holding back whatever it was that was aching to be said.
"I'm only here to help you," he said. "You know that."
"Yeah, I totally do," Cerys' voice choked a bit. "That's exactly why you came back to town. To help. That's why you screwed with my head, kissed me, slept with my roommate, and then—" her voice trailed off.
And then what?
Loki furrowed a brow tiredly at her. "I saved your life, Cerys. If you try, you may remember clutching to me on that rooftop."
"Like that means something. Tony saved my life that night, not you."
That stung. Try as she may, Loki wouldn't accept the direction she decidedly took in this conversation. That night on the roof, she clung to him like he were life itself—that was far from nothing. "If it weren't for me, you'd still be possessed."
"Yeah, Pepper told me," Cerys answered sternly. "You did it without talking to any of them. And it would've happened anyway, with or without you."
Aggravation had really begun to coil in Loki's chest, and he moved to get off the couch. He hadn't expected the others to understand that he'd done it to spare them Cerys' hatred, but he also hadn't anticipated being dismissed so readily by Cerys herself. Hatred would've been better than indifference. "Fine. If I'm so inconsequential, I'll just leave you be to live your life—"
"No, you—" Cerys growled as she leaned forward. Loki tensed, looking back at her. "Y-you…" His eyes widened as he watched the thoughts wisp through her eyes.
Once they brimmed with tears, she decided against whatever she was going to say, and sighed frustratedly as she plopped back against the couch. Loki watched as she recoiled, shifting away so that her knees were now facing the opposite direction—where he slid from.
Meanwhile, he could think of nothing else to do but watch—watch as she wiped her tears away, and hardened her sidelong glare at the TV. It was just behind him now, but she stared past him stubbornly, refusing to meet his eyes. Loki felt the light of the film casting a shadow down on him from behind, and the softness of Cerys' expression was ever present—even in her strongest attempt at indifference.
The toughness of this woman…
Loki tilted his head slightly, lowering his head into her line of sight. She looked away again.
"Cerys, I'm sorry," he said, casting his eyes down with sincerity—despite the frustration still simmering in his chest. "I shouldn't have done what I did with your friend—she was the path of least resistance to overcoming some... Internal strife. Though it failed in doing that as well," he paused. "Because I meant what I said in your cell. And now that you've learned the truth, I'll leave you be if that's what you want. I'll go as far as you want me to go, you need only send me away. Before all this, I'd considered leaving anyway, to go back to Norway." When he looked back up, something of a flash had zipped through Cerys' expression, and her eyes darted toward him, softened as she regarded him with… shock? "In fact, I... I've already arranged with Stark to find me a flight back home."
A moment passed, and Cerys did not relent in her glare.
"You're going back?" she practically whispered, still staring at him intently, no longer able to hide the hint of fear tackling her will. All of it reflected in her eyes as she stared back at him, her lips parting and closing as decision after decision flashed in her eyes, shoved down to collect in her heaving chest.
The confusion and vulnerability was palpable, and Loki narrowed his eyes confusedly. He pondered his next move briefly, before leaning into the atmosphere suddenly—into her—and saw that she didn't recoil. By the look on her face, he really hadn't expected her to. He was just close enough to reach out, and he dared to raise a hand to her face.
"Dare I say," Loki breathed out, keeping his face taut, while his voice dropped to its lowest pitch. His eyes flickered down to her mouth as he drew closer, but hers didn't move. "You don't want me to?"
Cerys furrowed a brow, keeping her eyes fixed as he brushed his fingers against her neck, leaning closer to her. Loki caught her eyes dropping down to his lips just briefly, and he observed her features like a drawing—feeling the heat rising from her body as she studied him back, matching his intensity. The faintest grin ghosted his face as he leaned even further, barely grazing her skin in the glow of the television.
"You've a decision to make, Cerys—when you do get around to talking to that diversion of yours…" He drew intentness in with every breath. Loki had but to move, just a bit, and his lips—which were barely brushing hers already—would have collided fully with her own. For now, at least, he would settle for the licks of air blowing back against him as he spoke, "You'd do well to remember how you feel right now."
Her eyelids flickered heavily, brows knitted just a bit… Heat came off of her in plumes, as her body melted into the couch—settling them both into an intimate space. Loki blinked slowly, relishing the wisps of air escaping her parted lips, before tearing away.
She nearly shuddered as he rose, and stalked briskly across the room—knowing she was watching. He crossed the room pointedly, aiming straight for his bedroom at the end of the hall—where she had long since been invited… but not this night.