Loki & Stephen Strange (special appearance by Cloak)
Freaky Friday Day 2 | Pool Room | PG
Loki gets drunk on Pixie Cider and gets into an altercation with Stephen which
ultimately gets resolved..
⚠
Drunkenness, indignant then pitiful Loki, somebody gets dunked in the water
The week had started off on a high note and quickly gone downhill.
Loki knew his argument with Mobius wouldn’t last. It was a temporary hurdle. And every relationship went through its ups and downs. But Loki had hoped it wouldn’t become as big of a deal as it had. He couldn’t blame Mobius though. She had every reason to be angry and upset despite the fact that Loki thought he’d been doing the right thing—telling her the truth about what he’d done; admitting that he’d purposefully erased his own memories, only to have his variant from Evil Derleth break down that memory barrier he and Julia had constructed during their scuffle in the Desolation. Relationships required honesty. But maybe Loki had been too honest. Maybe that was something he should have taken to the grave.
Waiting had never been his strong suit. Sure, Mobius said she would see him tonight after she’d had time to process what he’d told her, but there was no guarantee that she would. She might decide he was too much of a hassle. That Loki was too much of a ‘project’. She wouldn’t have been wrong. Loki was an emotional wreck at the best of times. At the worst of times?
He was a disaster.
He needed a distraction. That’s how he ended up at the pool, sprawled out in one of those lounge chairs. He wore a pair of green swimming shorts—the same ones he’d had on in Florida at Julia’s pool party, the kind that left very little to the imagination—but it was clear he hadn’t been in the water. Dry as a desert, as was the deck around him. Instead of enjoying the pool, he was reading a book. Sons and Lovers by D.H. Lawrence. One could read into that what they would.
It was early afternoon. The time was ticking by at a snail’s pace. Every few minutes he’d glance up at the clock on the wall and grumble that only a few seconds had passed. Maybe a minute. Then he’d look at his phone. Nothing. No messages. Not even a post on the network. Radio silence.
He sighed. Then he licked his finger and turned the page. He read the same paragraph three times without noticing. Then he checked the clock again. Still nothing.
Loki looked down at the ring on his right hand. Should he still be wearing it? It didn’t have any power anymore. Maybe now it was cursed. Perhaps leaving it on had set up too many expectations for them both. Had that been the thing which had given him the courage to tell Mobius the truth? Was that the reason Mobius needed space? Stupid band of gold making him feel like he’d accomplished something. Like he was worth something. He ought to throw it down the drain.
He didn’t, of course. Because he was just overreacting. And he knew he’d regret it if he let his temper get the better of him. But it would have felt good to throw something. Or break something. Or scream at the top of his lungs.
He turned his phone over so he wouldn’t be tempted to look at the screen. Then he turned the page again.
What started out at first as wanting to create another jacuzzi for Natasha to give her a place to relax, evolved into a whole lot more as Stephen decided why the hell not?, and let his sorcery flow to change the interior of the gym’s pool area from Y.M.C.A to Five Star. This new and improved pool area was Stephen’s gift to the residents of Derleth. Giving back to the campus, a fun place everybody could use. And really, why it hadn’t been fixed up before was a bit of a surprise, especially when so much work had been done outside with the Green. Dealing with weekly crises took priority, and rightfully so, but pool!
Was Stephen proud? Hell yes he was! In fact, he kept thinking of how to improve what he’d done, maybe even changing up the whole look every so often. He assumed he would have to redo the spell at the start of every week, anyway, so might as well. Right now he was satisfied with the pristine white tile, wall to ceiling windows, slippery water slide, and the tropical foliage, even though it was fake. His magic could only go so far, he wasn’t able to create life, even if it was plant life. He considered asking Wanda to create some live greenery the way she created that orchard, but meh… later. He was pleased with the thought he’d done it all on his own.
One of his portals opened, gold and white sparks that spun in a circle and widened. What first came through was a large raven, soaring over to perch on the roof of the bar’s canopy. The large bird cocked his head in Loki’s direction, noticing him immediately, but then turned his head to watch Stephen enter, a bottle in each hand, not so much walking as he was shuffling his feet in a dance while listening to music from his phone on bluetooth. He hummed in tune with the song that played, but by the time he reached the bar, he sang one of the lyrics out loud, “Neptune, Titan, stars can frighten…oooooo….”
Taking the rear was the Cloak of Levitation, carrying a wooden crate that held several more bottles, which Stephen used to stock the bar, still humming and doo doo-ing, oblivious to Loki. The portal closed, and when Cloak set the crate down, it too noticed Loki, and tried to tap Stephen on the shoulder to let him know, but he wasn’t having none of it.
“Hold on,” he told the Cloak, focused on his task. “Let me get this done first, then I promise.”
It was hard to miss one of Doctor Strange’s flashy portals. So, naturally, Loki didn’t. He did roll his eyes, however, when he saw the first golden sparkles—like a welder working at a rough piece of metal—and was about to turn away from the portal and pretend like he didn’t notice it when out flew a bird. A raven. That brought on another eye roll. Nothing against ravens, of course. Lovely birds. Very sleek. Very smart. But they reminded him of his father.
Odin and his ravens.
Loki rolled over onto his back again and buried his face in the book. The words might as well have been written in the language they’d found on Hoth. Nothing made sense to him. Well, it did make sense, but his thoughts were in too many other places. He didn’t have focus. And, to be fair, he was a little bit jealous of everyone and their projects. Strange and his pool. Julia and the gymnasium showers. Loki didn’t have anything to do. And when he was idle he was at his worst. Because when he was idle, he was bored. And when he was bored he made stupid choices like harassing the new guy on the network.
But the last major on-campus project Loki had been involved in were the stables. And the stables just reminded him of—
No. He wasn’t going to go there.
It was horrible to wish for a crisis. But he almost hoped something would happen. Anything that would give him something to do and distract him from his thoughts. And his nerves. And his pounding confusion of emotions.
He heard the clinking of the bottles as Strange stocked up the bar and slowly lowered his book to glance over at the three ring circus—sorcerer, raven, and mystical cloak—with a kind of disappointed pout. Were they really going to ignore him? So rude!
“If you’re setting up the bar, I’ll have a mojito.” Because Loki just couldn’t stand the awkward silence.
The music was too loud, Stephen didn’t even hear Loki. Once he’d arranged the bottles to his satisfaction, he nodded his approval and was about to turn but caught sight of his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. He stopped, leaned forward and checked his hair, combing his fingers through to make sure it was in place (it was). Closer inspection… how about his beard? A little freshening up with a razor was due. He glanced over his shoulder at the clock on the wall… there was time.
After all, he had to look good for his date.
“I’ll be back,” he told Cloak, opening another portal to leave.
The Cloak hovered motionless until Stephen was gone, then turned its collar toward Loki. After a beat, it floated to the bar where it opened a bottle and poured some liquor into a shot glass, then flew over to bring to Loki. It was far from a mojito… a beverage called Pixie Cider, which came with a warning on the label - a surprisingly potent drink that should only be served by the teaspoon, which causes the drinker to see stars and trails of pixie dust behind moving entities. But that warning was for ordinary people, not Asgardians… so the Cloak playing as the bartender had decided this would be enough to get Loki turnt.
Did Strange just leave? Why that impudent good-for-nothing—
And then the Cloak of Levitation was by his side offering him a drink. Loki closed his book and set it on the small side table that held his phone. Then he propped the back of the lounge chair up so he could sit. He narrowed his eyes, giving the Cloak a suspicious peer. He had no reason to distrust that particular piece of fabric. The only disreputable thing about it was the fact that it chose to hang around that smug bastard. Which Loki thought was ridiculously absurd, because if the Cloak was into smug bastards well then surely Loki was the crème de la crème.
He raised a brow at the shot glass, but accepted it. Should he have asked what was in it? Probably. But Loki and the Cloak had a very special relationship. Or, at least, Loki imagined they did. For all he really knew it was an elaborate trick, but to be honest Loki didn’t care. What was the worst that could happen? This was Derleth. Land of perpetual resets. Nothing had consequences.
“If this is supposed to serve as an apology because your mannerless master didn’t acknowledge me, then I’m going to have to disappoint you.” Loki sniffed the drink. It had a sweet aroma. Almost fruity. But not a fruit he could pinpoint. “I’m only accepting this offer because it’s from you. You, I like. You are polite. Pity you’re that insufferable shade of red. Green would be better. But I understand we can’t always choose our seamstresses.”
Loki raised the shot glass to the Cloak. “To you, my flappy friend. No, to us. The only friendship I have in this wretched place that I can actually stand. In no part due to your impeccable listening skills. And the only other creature in the Void who knows how to do a proper waltz.”
Loki threw his head back and swallowed the entire shot in one gulp.
Oh. That was a little stronger than he’d anticipated.
The Cloak was bound to Stephen, having gauged the sorcerer’s character ad deemed him worthy of its service, but it had decided upon a number of backups on campus to whom it would go in the even Stephen was incapacitated. This Loki was not on that list… he was estimated to be too volatile. Even so, the Cloak had a soft spot for this Loki, not only because they were from the same universe, but because its master, Stephen, had a soft spot, too.
It remained hovering nearby throughout Loki’s speech. Last week he was absent and did not know that Loki had gotten wasted as a unicorn… it had only served Loki’s request. Did Loki like the drink? Did he want another? The Cloak waited for a reaction.
Loki didn’t see stars or shimmering pixie dust—not yet anyway—but he did feel a kind of euphoric twinge in his body after taking the shot. He raised the glass to his face and eyed it carefully. There was a kind of effervescent glimmer along the rim. It reflected like a rainbow in an oil slick.
He turned his attention back to the Cloak and gave it a broad smile. Loki wasn’t lying when he said he liked the Cloak. He put on a big show in public, but Loki did enjoy the company. And the fact that Cloak didn’t have a lot to say did enamor Loki to him. Because Loki could talk for ten people. And very often did when given the opportunity. But he was completely unaware of Cloak’s affection for him. Or Strange’s, for that matter. He just assumed they both enjoyed prickling his temper.
“Not that it bothers me, you know. Being ignored by the illustrious sorcerer supreme, that is. I can handle that. I get it. I do. It’s probably a simple case of embarrassment on his part. Not that there’s anything to be ashamed of. We can’t all follow through on our desires all of the time. And Strange was bound to stray into shark-infested waters eventually. I’m too much of a deep end for him. Completely understandable. I don’t take it personally. I enjoy the repartee either way. There’s something to be said for the long game, too. Don’t you agree?” Loki stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing at the ankles. He licked his lips. That drink was rather tasty. Maybe a bit strong for this time of day, but time wasn’t really a thing in the Void. “He had me on the hook in New York. Just between you and me, of course. Probably the best for everyone anyway. All of that ego? Ha! But I know it was just a test of my sanity. Because of what happened with the ghosts. The jazz bar was a nice touch though. I liked that. That surprised me.”
Loki tilted his head, glance askew. Then he ran his fingers over the Cloak’s seam. “You know, I’m not bound by Midgardian sensitivities. I once had a love affair with a scarf.”
He paused, leaning in closer to admire Cloak’s fabric. “Is this a silk lining?”
Loki held the glass out to Cloak. “If you’d be so kind.”
Cloak understood what was being said, but also didn’t understand. It was aware Loki was attracted to Stephen, and vice versa, but as a piece of cloth it was personally asexual and aromantic, and as such didn’t realize Loki was flirting. Cloak also couldn’t really tell how quickly the alcohol was affecting Loki, since he usually talked a lot.
Not knowing any better, the Cloak flew back to the bar and picked up the bottle to bring back and refill Loki’s glass with two fingers measure of the liquor.
And a minute after that, another portal sparked open. Freshly shaven he’d decided to change up his outfit, too… something casual but not too casual. He wanted to make an impression on Rita, but not be so obvious. The raven on top of the bar cawed loudly at Stephen’s arrival, and he was headed for the bar when Cloak’s movement caught his eye. It was only after he turned to look did Stephen see Loki on the beach chair. He threw back his head and made an exasperated noise, but composed himself while trying to decide if he ought to engage or ignore. The pool was a public place, after all, and Loki had every right to be there the same as anybody else. It was just… inconvenient.
Irritating.
Frustrating.
This time Loki purposefully ignored the portal and Strange. Why shouldn’t he? Strange ignored him the first time. He started it.
When Cloak returned and refilled his shot glass, Loki clinked it against the side of the bottle. “Skål!” Then he swallowed it back in another gulp. This time he felt more of an effect. The liquid burned the back of this throat and left a lingering tickle. Out of the corner of his eye the movements of the raven seemed to be followed by a trail of sparkles, like it was moving in slow motion. Something about it reminded Loki of the magical unicorn glen. He blinked and swiped at something invisible in front of his face. Then he leaned into the Cloak and laughed.
“You silly cape! Are you wearing aftershave?” Loki sniffed the Cloak’s collar. “Is that to impress me? You don’t have to put on anything to impress me. I like you just the way you are! You know, I sometimes wear a cape. Not red, of course. Not my color, but—is it? Do you think I could pull off red? Maybe deep red. Like a crimson. Blood red. Too much? Maybe that’s too much. My father wore red sometimes. And my brother. Kind of turned me off from the hue, if I’m honest. I can be honest with you, can’t I? Yes, I thought so. Seeing as how we’re such good friends.”
Loki gave the Cloak a warm armed hug. Then he held out his hand in front of them, waggling his fingers. “Did you see my ring, by the way? I know. It’s plain and it doesn’t have any powers anymore. But it’s real gold. I almost tossed it in the bin an hour ago, but I decided not to be rash.”
He let go of the Cloak and almost slipped out of the lounge chair. Luckily he caught himself and managed to ease back into a normal sitting position. “What’s in that? Cloak! Are you trying to get me wasted? I am a prince of Asgard! I do not get intoxicated so easily!”
Did his voice sound funny? Loki snorted a laugh. “Goodness, it’s warm in here.”
“What the hell is going on?” was Stephen’s immediate response. He marched over and while glaring at Loki, held out his hand out to Cloak, who instinctively knew what Stephen wanted and handed over the bottle. He tore his eyes away from Loki to read the label, and realizing what happened, sighed out of exasperation. He sniffed the contents out of sheer curiosity, but dared not taste himself, instead giving the bottle back to Cloak, telling it, “Bring a bottle of water.”
Stephen wasn’t upset at Cloak. If anything, he placed the blame on Loki because of course it was Loki’s fault. “What did you do?” he accused, and then deeply sighed, observing his state. Bringing Rita into this mess would be a disaster, so he pulled out his phone to text her, claiming something came up and if they could arrange to meet somewhere else later in the day. “Stop flirting with the Cloak or I’ll throw you into the pool,” he said while typing his message, pressing send, then returning his attention to Loki. “Can you stand?”
By then Cloak returned with the water, which Stephen took, opened, and gave over. “Here, drink this.”
Blink.
Blink, blink.
Loki didn’t know what was going on. One moment ago he was enjoying a nice conversation with Cloak. Well, ‘conversation’ since it was essentially Loki talking to himself. And the next moment Doctor Stephen Strange—oh that’s where the aftershave scent was coming from—was chastising him like a small child. All the while, Loki was semi oblivious as to exactly how quickly he’d become inebriated.
How many shots had he had? Four? Five?
He would have been stunned to realize it was a meager two!
“What are you doing?” Loki looked up at Strange, pouting. “Don’t send Cloak away. He didn’t do anything! I didn’t do anything either!”
Well, nothing since admitting to Mobius that he’d erased his memories to avoid dealing with the pain. He hadn’t done anything else since then, right? No, he didn’t think so.
When Strange accused him of flirting, Loki scoffed. “I beg your pardon! I will do as I please. Cloak wasn’t hemmed yesterday, after all. He’s more than old enough for some harmless flirtations.”
Cloak reappeared and Loki leaned in to whisper near its collar. “You are above age in terms of sentient fabric, are you not?”
But before he could determine Cloak’s answer, Strange was thrusting a bottle of water in his face. But that’s not what had Loki’s brain panicking. “Who are you texting? Stop that this instant! Put that away! I didn’t do anything!”
Cloak turned its collar toward Loki, curiously, unable to respond one way or another, while Stephen slipped his phone in his back pocket. “Never mind who I was texting. We need to get you somewhere that you won’t get into any trouble.” He gestured with his finger, and Cloak took the hint… if Loki wasn’t going to stand up on his own, there were other methods. The Cloak latched itself upon Loki’s shoulders and lifted him smoothly to his feet. As this was happening, the raven took flight, circled around the spot where they stood, and finally rested upon the foot of the beach chair.
There were things Stephen wanted to say, along the lines of accusing Loki of trying to use the Cloak as a substitute for him, but he knew better than to go there. “Drink,” he repeated, this time a little less forceful.
Hopefully Rita wasn’t already on her way. He felt his phone buzz, and took it out to look at it, relieved that she’d gotten the message. He texted back, thinking quickly. “Tonight? 7:00? The Green.”
That ought to give him enough time to sort out this Loki fiasco.
Strange’s reluctance to tell Loki who he was talking to only set off an extra level of paranoia in him. Was he messaging Mobius? Was he telling her that Loki had done something? Loki hadn’t done anything, but he realized it didn’t seem that way. And after their last conversation Mobius would probably believe Strange even if it wasn’t true. Was he sweating? He felt like he was sweating.
And then Cloak picked him up by the shoulders. Loki’s bare feet dangled just above the tiles, toes stretching out to touch the floor. Although, to be honest, Strange was probably right in thinking that Loki couldn’t stand on his own.
“I don’t want to drink anything! I want to know who you’re talking to!” But the bottle was being pushed at him again and, well, Loki’s head did feel like it was swimming in whipped cream. So he took the bottle and drank. He paused halfway through the bottle and then realized he was really thirsty. He drank the rest. The water cleared up the tickling sensation in the back of his throat but he still felt like the room was spinning.
Why hadn’t he noticed that when he was sitting?
“Have you two drugged me? You’ve done this on purpose, haven’t you? Is this payback for the hot tub? Come on! That was just some harmless fun. You liked it, too!” Loki shook his finger at Strange and then at Cloak. “You both liked it! Don’t deny it!”
Loki struggled against the Cloak. “Let me go!” Loki paused. Then he stared at Strange, eyes wide and glossy. “Your hair looks like it’s on fire. Like … glitter fire…”
Stephen had brought back the Pixie Cider with Asgardians especially in mind, since he knew ordinary alcoholic beverages didn’t affect them the same way as humans. From what was left in the bottle, Stephen understood Loki hadn’t been given that much, and still he was this fucked up? Hair looking like glitter fire. Well, shit. That sounded like some great stuff.
Satisfied with how Loki finished the bottle of water, he made a gesture with his hand and it was refilled. “Drink some more,” he gently prodded, ignoring all the griping and allegations. He wouldn’t deny that he enjoyed their time in the hot tub, but he certainly wasn’t going to admit it now. But, if it calmed Loki down, Stephen would reveal who he was texting.
He held the phone screen in front of Loki’s face for him to read. “I’m texting Rita Farr,” he explained. “We were going to meet here for a date, but I had to reschedule because of your drunk ass.” His phone buzzed again, and he checked the message… she had agreed to meet later, which made Stephen smile. He texted her a thumbs up emoji and a quick See you then, then put his phone back into his pocket.
“Come on, let’s get you to your room.”
Loki didn’t want to drink more water, but he did anyway. Almost oddly obedient in his actions, actually. Was that from the alcohol or the fear that Mobius would find out he went directly from their argument to getting completely wasted? Difficult to say. Possibly a little bit of both. (Which was, for better or worse, a pattern with Loki in many areas of his life.)
When he finished the second bottle of water, he dropped it on the lounge chair. He wasn’t sure if his bladder could handle any more. Then Strange was showing him his phone and Loki blinked again. Rapid blinking.
“Who?”
Rita Farr? Did he know a Rita Farr? He didn’t think so. Did Strange just make that name up? Was this a trick? It sounded like a trick. Rita Farr? Was that even a real name?
At the mention of it being a date, Loki snorted another laugh. “Oh, come on! Now I know you’re pulling my leg! A date? To the pool? Please. Stephen, darling, I wasn’t born yesterday. You have much better taste than that. A date at a pool of all places. Odin’s beard, what a joke!”
Pause. “What? No, no. I can’t go across campus like this! Someone might see me!”
And to make matters worse he was only wearing a small pair of swimming trunks. If Mobius were to see him drunk wearing practically nothing then it would all be over.
What was wrong with having a date at a pool? It was Stephen’s pool, the one he magically manipulated to look incredible. He was even going to conjure up a tropical flavored nook where he and Rita could sit. It was going to be sweet and romantic. The longer Loki mocked, the more offense Stephen took, and he narrowed his eyes angrily. Folding his arms across his chest, he glanced at the Cloak. “Sober him up,” he muttered, tilting his head toward the pool.
The Cloak obeyed by lifting Loki and swiftly carried him to dangle over the water for a moment to give him a chance to realize what was going to happen… and then dunked him under. Brought him up for a quick breather, then dunked him again. One last time for good measure for a total of three dunks, after which the Cloak brought him back to the tiles, still holding him up for Stephen to inspect.
“Still need a dip?” he asked, intimidatingly.
Apparently there was nothing wrong with pool dates. Not if you were a Midgardian. Loki, on the other hand, wouldn’t have been that impressed. But he was an Asgardian god and a prince. And he’d been raised with a silver spoon in a palace full of servants. So his standards weren’t exactly the norm. Whoever this Rita Farr was would probably be instantly enamored by Strange’s silly little poolside date. It would no doubt get Strange exactly what he wanted. What was it they said about Midgardian girls again? Loki was sure there was some kind of saying about them. Maybe it even had to do with them being easily swooned by chlorinated water and plastic noodles. He couldn’t remember.
“What? Don’t you d—” But before Loki could get the words out, the Cloak was lifting him up above the pool. Loki kicked his legs in the air and—
Dunk!
Up for a breath. “You—!”
Dunk again!
And up. “—second rate—!”
And under again!
Air. “—sorcerer!”
When Cloak brought him back to the tiles, Loki began waving his arms trying to rip the fabric off his shoulders. He didn’t look quite as imposing dripping wet with his hair matted down and his face flushed. “Unhand me, you moth-eaten tapestry!”
Then he stuck a finger in Strange’s face. “I despise you! You … you …”
The room suddenly got a little dizzy. Strange’s beard was sparkling this time, like tiny trails of pixie dust. Then Loki slipped on the puddle of water beneath his feet. Hopefully Cloak had a good grip. Or else Loki was falling right into Strange.
Cloak’s grip was sure, but it had not expected Loki to slip nor his forward momentum. Stephen saw Loki’s disorientated expression just before he took his spill, and out of reflex, his arms rose and caught Loki as he tumbled into him. The raven, startled by all this, loudly cawed and took flight, his voice echoing off the tiles of the room. With Cloak’s help, Stephen lifted him to a more stable position, but his hands remained firmly upon Loki’s biceps as he peered closely into Loki’s face, this time with medical concern.
Suddenly feeling responsible, he looked around , deciding this was not the place for Loki to recover. Letting go, he cast a spell to not only dry Loki and Cloak, but to put Loki into some comfortable clothes. “You’re going to have to lay down,” he said, opening a portal and leading the way to the other side.
The wards on Butler Hall prevented any magic to portal directly in or out of their rooms, which meant Stephen would have to bring Loki outside and have Cloak carry him indoors. However, that would attract a lot of attention and raise more questions than it was worth, so he decided to spare Loki that indignity, though he certainly didn’t deserve it.
Instead the portal opened into a room in a different location on campus. Multiple candles flared to provide light when they entered, and flickered as it cast shadows on the bare walls. There wasn’t much furniture… a low table with a copper Tibetian singing bowl sitting next to an incense burner, several pillows arranged in a corner, and the candles were all. Noticeably, there was no conventional door.
Had he fallen into Strange’s arms on a different day, under a different set of circumstances, Loki would have responded with a much more Loki reaction. Something witty. Coquettish. Mocking. He would have used his body to taunt and his words to seduce. And it would have been a very different situation. But today was not the day for that. Because Loki had the weight of guilt on his conscience. Not to mention the burden of fear. That he might disappoint Mobius even more and ruin what they’d just started. Loki was a fool to think he could play the relationship game, but he wanted to. More than that, he wanted Mobius to maintain her high opinion of him. And if she saw him now, well, even he wasn’t drunk enough to realize how horrible that would go over.
So, he appreciated that Strange took this seriously. Even without all of the information. Even if he was merely doing it to get Loki out of his hair so he could attend his date.
But do note his surprise when Strange went that extra step to dry him off and supply him with something to wear. That seemed kind. Too kind. Especially for Strange.
And then a portal. An unfamiliar room. And both Strange and Cloak making sure that Loki didn’t faceplant on the floor. All of this from two drinks? Loki really needed to learn a lesson from this. Hopefully he would.
That’s when he noticed the lack of doors. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What is this? Is this a prison? I told you I didn’t do anything!”
He turned to Strange, eyes pleading, stance wobbly. “You can’t trap me in here! I have to meet Mobius later. I—”
Loki tried to grab Strange by the arm, but his dexterity and vision were off, and he accidentally caught him by the front of the shirt. “I messed things up. If I’m not there tonight … if she sees me like this … Stephen … Doctor … Please. Don’t lock me in here. I’m begging you. I have to be able to meet her tonight. I … I did something stupid. So stupid. And if I’m not there she may never forgive me.”
Was Loki being overly dramatic? Yes. But for all he knew, it was true.
Stephen had started to arrange the pillows on the floor when Loki went into pleading mode. What? was his initial reaction, then Stephen looked around and realized yeah, this might look like a cell, especially to one who’d been inside prison before. He could’ve cut Loki off sooner, but he stood there with a stoic expression, waiting to see how far it would go, but Loki’s desperation quickly started to get embarrassing, making him feel uncomfortable. He knew that the booze had lowered Loki’s usual defenses, but exposing himself in such a vulnerable way was so out of character that Stephen didn’t like it.
Taking a long, deep breath, he made sure he had Loki’s full attention by looking at him directly in the eyes. “This isn’t a prison,” he calmly explained. “It’s a meditation room. My meditation room. I created it not long after I fixed up the pool. There isn’t a door because I didn’t want anybody to just stumble in by accident, so I got rid of it. I’m going to lower the wards so you’ll be able to open a portal so you can leave whenever you want. But right now, it’s probably best for you to sleep off this stupor.”
He gestured toward the pillows with his head. “You can lay down here for as long as you need. If you trust me enough, I can even cast a spell to help you become drowsy. If not… well.” Stephen carefully peeled Loki’s grip from his shirt. “I’ll make sure you keep your meeting with Mobius. I promise.” Stephen’s expression was sincere, releasing Loki’s hands and stepping aside to give him space. “If you’d rather I take you to your room, I’ll have the Cloak bring you there, but people might see. Here, you’ll have privacy.”
Sure, he wanted to know what was going on between Loki and Mobius… who wouldn’t be nosey? But it wasn’t his place, and he wasn’t going to take advantage of the situation. Stephen was too much of a good guy, and right now he was a doctor to Loki’s condition. “If there’s someplace else you’d rather go, you can be taken there.”
Who said Stephen didn’t have bedside manner?
Loki didn’t like how he was behaving either, but he felt stripped of his normal illusions. The alcohol had been strong enough to break through his usual defense mode. Not his appearance, at least. That facade remained because that one was strong. He’d been using it practically since birth. But the mask he wore to hide his feelings, the one that allowed him to respond with witty banter and sardonic smirks, was gone. A combination of both the potency of the drink and his innate fear that he’d gone too far. Wasn’t that what everyone had always told him?
One day you’ll go too far, Loki.
This might have been that day.
But once he realized that Strange wasn’t planning on locking him up in this small room, once he realized it wasn’t another prison like the one his father made for him, he relaxed. Not completely. But enough to stop pleading. He would be unbelievably embarrassed later when he remembered this moment. Begging, practically to the point of tears. Over what? A stupid little argument? A rash decision he made before Mobius and he had decided they meant anything to each other? Worst of all was the fact that Strange was the one to witness it. Just as Strange had been the one to witness his emotional collapse when Natasha died. Granted, others saw that as well. But Strange seemed to be the only one to really see it. See it for what it was.
Dangerous.
Loki on the edge of emotional collapse was a ticking time bomb. And the Sorcerer Supreme appeared to be the only one—outside of Loki himself—who recognized just how precarious that could be.
“I don’t want to go anywhere else,” Loki said, just barely above a whisper. There was no privacy in his room. And he didn’t want anyone else to see him. Derleth was too small. The gossip mill was too quick. He swayed a bit as he took a few steps to the makeshift floor bed. His fingers curled along the edge of the Cloak of Levitation. Then he dropped down to his knees. “Here is fine. I’ll just lay here.”
Once he was on the ground, he realized he was tired. He wouldn’t need a spell to help him sleep. But he might need one to wake him up.
“Don’t let me stay too long,” he said, but whether he was talking to Strange or the Cloak was difficult to tell. Maybe both of them.
Once Loki sank to his knees the Cloak detached itself from his shoulders and flew over to return to Stephen, who remained staunchly standing, his face neutral. Stephen felt that to provide any more comfort, physical or emotional, besides the basics he’d already given would only humiliate Loki more. The god of mischief certainly needed to be humbled, but Stephen wasn’t cruel or vindictive by nature. Besides, doing so might give the mistaken impression that he actually cared.
At least the score was now even from the time when Loki witnessed him as vulnerable while unhealthily dealing with his memory update.
“I’ll send the Cloak to come check on you in a couple of hours.” He turned his head toward the candles and gestured with his fingers, causing them to dim just enough but not extinguish. Loki would also need something to eat later, and more water to hydrate… Cloak would be the better choice to deliver since Loki had a better rapport with it and wouldn’t be threatened (and Stephen could remain detached and somewhat aloof from the situation).
He opened a portal and left Loki to his own devices. Stephen was at the pool again, standing close by the bar, and he paused to look around, sighing at how another date was postponed. First with Elsa, now with Rita. He was starting to think he was cursed, affectionately calling it Allison’s Curse in his mind, not that he held anything against her for their breakup.
Stephen’s eyes came to rest upon the bottle that Loki had drank from. Curiously, he went over and pulled out the cork, took a sniff, then tilted the bottle just enough to get the tip of his finger moist from the liquor, which he then tasted with his tongue. “Whoa,” he said, as the alcohol went straight to his head. “Woof. This stuff is dangerous.” He checked the label for its contents but there was nothing printed there except the warning. “We’ll need to serve this with a pipette, or maybe a spray mister.” He was about to put it back on the bar, but then decided to take it back to his room, just in case somebody accidentally poured themself more than the recommended amount and gave themselves alcohol poisoning and toxic shock.
The raven, Stephen’s new that he gained last week, flew over and perched on his shoulder as he opened yet another portal to Butler Hall.