Who: Loki (616) and Thor (mcu) What: Trying to be good. Where: Their Loki’s house. When: Saturday night, late
It was getting to be too much.
Loki understood better than anyone in this town how important it was for him to behave, to not do anything too smarmy or clever or mean-spirited or even just too mischievous because so many people here knew him or some other version of him and wouldn’t trust him for a moment if his behavior faltered or wavered even the smallest amount.
That normally wouldn’t bother Loki; of course it wouldn’t. But pissing off thirty-odd superheroes seemed like an incredibly unwise sort of move on his part, no matter how ballsy he was feeling on any particular day.
But doing nothing felt a little bit like whatever step it was beyond boredom. Like sometimes there was simply no point at all. And… it was too much. Or too little. Loki wasn’t certain. And staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom didn’t help in the least either, particularly since sleep was not coming so far as he could tell.
“Fuck it all,” he decided to himself, shoving aside a plethora of blankets and pillows and pushing himself out of bed to wander, rumpled and uncaring, through the rest of his house until he stood directly in front of the room that was his brothers.
When he let himself in, it could have been in any number of shapes — a snake, perhaps, or a wolf. Or maybe something more innocent and innocuous where Thor would simply mistake him for an animal that had wandered in from the outside. A kitten?
But the longer he considered it, the less inclined he felt and so simply turned the knob (and of course it was unlocked, Thor, the idiot, never did know better) and let himself in as Loki.