Loki Misses the Asgardian Prison System

Chapter 134

Loki has a wonderful evening.

Thor comes by with a piece of steak and a water bottle, and he stays while his brother eats, both to talk and to enjoy the scenery with him. Admittedly, he's not quite sure his brother does enjoy the scenery – he is Thor, after all; looking at the trees isn't quite his idea of a nice evening – but he pretends he does, which is nice of him.

When Thor leaves, he tells his brother not to stay out too late; then, he takes the dishes and brings them inside. It's not yet sunset, but it's growing darker, enough so that he can lie down with his blanket folded up behind his head like a pillow without being blinded by the sun.

Thor was right: he did get used to the sun's rays. He really was not expecting that.

He watches the sunset, and he enjoys every moment of it. He's caught glimpses of it out the window over the last few years, but he truly can't remember the last time he's actually watched it. It's not the same when you look at it through a window.

And then the night settles around him.

And he hears crickets.

There are crickets.

He never thought he'd feel this much joy over bugs, but this is merely the cherry on top of a wonderful experience. He's having a wonderful night. He's not ready for it to end.

It's a little chilly, he realizes eventually. He's not cold, but he can feel that the air is. If he'd been a normal Asgardian – a normal human, even – he'd probably be hugging his blanket a little tighter. But he's not normal, and he knows that.

He sits back up and looks down at his hands resting in his lap. They look fine. They look normal. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and looks down again.

That's better.

That's what he wanted to see.

His hands are a deep shade of blue, covering the ridges of his Jotun skin with what could be – what should be – a beautiful color. It's not, of course. He knows what it is, and it's not beautiful. But it could be, to somebody who didn't know what it meant. They may see the way it fades into his pale Aesir skin at the forearms and wonder what it would look like if it didn't; if the Jotun in him consumed him entirely. They'd surely think it's more beautiful than it is.

Although some already know what it looks like.

Steve sits down next to him, leaving him a little more space than he usually would, but he's not too far away. Loki glances over at him, then looks back down at his lap. He should probably change his arms back to their usual pallor, but what would the point be? Steve's already seen it. He's already seen his whole Jotun form, however short-lived that was. What's the point in pretending otherwise?

"Hey," Steve says. His voice is quiet, gentle, like Loki's some wild animal he's afraid of scaring off. He'd be insulted if it wasn't so warranted.

Loki looks his way again just long enough to smile at him. It's easier than talking to him. It'll hurt less than talking to him will.

"It's, like, ten o'clock, you know," Steve tells him. "You think you're gonna head inside any time soon?"

Loki shakes his head. He's rather content out here. There's just something about the nighttime air. He's not ready to leave it yet.

"You know where the door is, right?" Steve asks. He turns around and points toward it. "That one; not the other one."

Loki glances over his shoulder at it. He'd assumed that was the door Steve was talking about. He's not fully sure what other door there is.