Chapter Text
Loki’s brain scattered like a hoard of mice.
He was good under pressure. It was something he’d practised over time, and eventually improved. Not an innate skill, but it was his, and he was proud of it.
His mind struggled to form a simple teleportation spell. Why was it so hard to think?
He needed to get out of this place. Somewhere safe.
He found himself stumbling over his feet at his apartment, Peter held tightly in his clutches. His shirt was an ensanguined crimson now. Iron flooded his nostrils, and the only thing he was aware of was the short, laboured gasps from the boy in his arms.
Loki lay Peter down on his couch, and began to call to his seidr. Everything was too fast for his mind to process. He could barely feel his magic, the arcane strands thin and tense under the stress.
It wasn’t working. Fuck, why wasn’t it working? He needed to calm down. He needed to breathe.
His lungs were filled with the scent of blood.
Panic shrouded his face as he worked faster to counteract the bleeding.
Loki hadn’t even realised his eyes were stinging. His throat ached. His head ached. He thought of Frigga. She always knew what to do.
Until she didn’t.
It was only him now.
He refused to be alone again.
He would not be alone again.
~
“Emotion is at the core of every ritual. You mustn’t fight it. Let it guide your practice.” Frigga chided gently to a young Loki.
“I can’t!” He hissed, his eyes welling up with tears. Plopping down on the bed, he deflated in exhaustion.
“What troubles you, Prince Loki?” She hummed, combing a hand through his hair.
“I don’t want to be alone,” He whispered, his small hands gripping tightly to the bedsheets.
“Whatever do you mean? I’m here with you now.”
Loki frowned. “But Thor tells me that one day we will all leave and not return,” His gaze flicked to the books scattered across the floor, permanent and static. “You have to promise that you won’t leave, even if you really want to.”
“I will always be here, watching over you. Even when my soul rises to Valhalla,” She planted a light kiss on his forehead, “I am afraid you’ll be stuck with me for a very, very long time.” Shooting Loki a cheeky grin, she finished pulling Loki’s hair into a neat braid.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Loki was now pouting. “Does that mean I still have to make my bed every morning, even when I’m old like you?”
“Yes.” She chuckled. “Even when you’re old like me.”
~
Ribbons of green light poured from his fingertips, flooding the dimly lit room with verdant emerald strings. They weaved through the atmosphere like snakes, coiling within Peter’s veins. Wounds dried up like water, leaving scars and bruises littered all over his body.
Peter began to stir, wincing in pain. He threw a weak jab Loki, before tumbling off the couch, crying out in agony. Loki grabbed his hand and gently sat it down onto a pillow. “Calm yourself, Peter. You’re–” His breath hitched as he tried to steady himself, stomping on his embarrassment as he wiped his eyes. “You are relatively safe. However, you bled on my carpet, which you will most certainly be cleaning–”
He was stopped by a warm embrace.
“... up.”
Peter rasped, his eyes shut tight. “You should see the other guy.”
Loki growled under his breath, tense from the sudden touch. “If you ever pull something like this again, I will see to it personally that your bones are turned into protein powder.” Then he followed through with the hug, though it was uncomfortable for him, knowing that Peter, perhaps more than anyone he’d known, needed his comfort.
“I thought I was going to die.” He whispered into Loki’s shoulder.
In an instant, Loki was taken back to the void. Endless, liminal space.
So perceptive of everyone but yourself.
“I am… familiar with the feeling.”
~
Loki awoke to the sound of shuffling and the smell of burnt toast. He sighed, pulling himself out from underneath his bedsheets and into the living room.
“Good morning to you too.”
Peter jumped from his spot in the small kitchen, toast landing spread first on the floor. He looked up sharply with a wince, though his features softened with recognition.
“Are you feeling alright?”
Peter cleared his throat, and attempted to talk again. “Sore. Not as bad as it was.”
“Yes. I am not familiar with your physiology. It is different from normal Midgardians. In any case, allow me to make the toast. You need rest.”
Slowly, Peter moved from his spot onto the couch, resting his head against the pillow. Loki cleaned the burnt toast from the floor and began making another slice.
“Hey, uh, Loki?”
“Mm.”
He was hesitant, pulling himself a chair to rest on before he spoke. “Why’d you save me?”
“Ah.” Loki hummed to himself. “You didn’t tell on me. I suppose saving your life was a small courtesy in favour of that.”
Peter nervously picked at his nails, and for a while he was silent.
“That’s– that’s not it, is it?”
“What?”
“I think you’re tired too.”
Loki pursed his lips. “I don’t understand.”
“The fighting. The hatred,” He shrugged. “The death. It’s a bit exhausting, y’know?” Peter considered himself for a moment, before drawing in a sharp, painful breath. “...For what it’s worth, Lokes, I think you’re a good dude, despite all that… ah…”
Loki gave him a look.
“... Lokiness. Yeah. That’s a word.”
The toast hopped out of the toaster with a ding. Peter swiped it onto a plate, picking up his peanut butter and a knife, leaving to sit back on the couch.
~
The next day, Loki had found a note on his bed.
Hey Loki,
It’s Peter, I just wanted to write you a note saying thanks for the whole stopping me from bleeding out thing
I got you some groceries cause you only have stale bread, tea and two minute noodles in your cupboard which probably isn’t healthy
You don’t have to worry about me, i have accelerated healing abilities so ill probably be in bed for like 2 weeks but ill be okay
Bye, from peter
PS: got u some bagel bites, they were shipped from NYC. I was gonna eat them but i thought you’d like em more
Lo and behold, three green bags sat limp on the table, waving like ghosts within an intangible breeze. Nestled inside the plastic were boxes with bright, gaudy packaging, and various strange fruits he’d seen in commercials.
Appreciation, however small, left a warm feeling in his chest.
Peter was right. Loki was tired, held at a standstill. He was petrified of change, exhausted by the same itching memories.
He was always at the edge of the universe. The void swirled under him like a pack of hungry snakes, an endless, unsurvivable pit no-one had ever returned from. He remembered the times that as a child he would sit at the end of the bridge, swinging his feet back and forth as if to dip his toes in infinity.
It was inertia. He remained the same, even when he felt like changing.
“ Bagel bites ,” Loki shook his head gently, biting back an amused grin, mentally noting that he’d need to ask Peter how to eat these miscellaneous food items.
Loki was at the end of the bridge, again. And for the first time, he was not afraid of what awaited him below.
For the second time, there was someone who cared enough to break his fall.
And for the last time, Loki let go, knowing his friend was waiting for him on the other side.
- The End -