Blood and Knifes

2:6

They awoke late the next day with their head in Loki's lap, her playing with a strand of their hair as she read through one of their books.

"I like that book," they murmured, arching their back in a halfhearted stretch.

"Good morning sleepyhead," she teased.

"Good morning." They rolled onto their back, head leaning back to look up at Loki. "Pronouns?"

"She/her." She smiled, and set the book down. "Do you want some breakfast, love?"

Their mouth twisted into a suppressed smile as they blushed at the nickname. "Yeah, I'd like that." They rolled off of her lap, and sat up lazily. "What do you want?"

Her eye twinkled mischievously. "How about pancakes?"

Megan squinted their eyes playfully. "You're up to something."

"When am I not?" She smiled, and leaned forwards to press a kiss to their lips. "You start on the pancakes, I'll feed Pebbles."

When they opened the cabinet, there was a small green velvet box in front of the pancake mix.

"Loki!" They called. "Is this yours?" They tried to open the box, but it caught and they hesitated, fearing they'd break it.

Loki turned the corner and took the box from them. "Yes, this is mine. At least, for the moment... I hope to pass it on soon." She took a deep breath, but a knock on the door interrupted her. She sighed, and went to the door.

"Hiya hotness," Mr. Stark flirted. "Are business hours open?" Loki's expression twisted to one of disgust. "Well that didn't come out how I wanted it to," Stark backpedaled. "Sheesh. Just... can Megan come to the door?"

They took this as their cue, and before they entered Stark's line of sight, their pajamas shifted to a black fitted suit.

"And here I thought I would catch you in something a little less... formal," Stark teased.

"A shame my personality isn't tangible," they answered dryly. "I am assuming you're not just here for the pancakes?"

"I wouldn't say no to pancakes, but unfortunately I'm here to talk shop." He gestured at the door. "Can I come in?"

"Of course." They turned, linking arms with an overprotective Loki and guiding her along too. "Make yourself at home," they directed Stark, then turned to Loki. "Can you make the pancakes while I work on this?" At a nod, they smiled. "Thanks, love." They pressed a kiss to her lips.

They sat at the dining table across from Stark, and folded their hands in front of them. "I'm assuming you managed to contact a lawyer?"

"Yeah. Hell, it's hard to find someone not emotionally invested in killing the guy," Stark groaned.

"While I sympathize with your difficulties, let's get to the point." Stark motioned for them to continue. "I am sure your lawyer recommended a heavily publicized trial. I think we can both agree that would be a poor idea."

"Yeah... about that..." Stark looked sheepish. "I kinda already called the news outlets."

Megan blinked rapidly. "Why the hell would you do that?"

"Erm, I was exceptionally drunk."

They exhaled forcefully. "You realize this will make jury selection extremely difficult? Voir Dire? It will be near impossible to find an impartial jury."

"I'm assuming that's not a good thing?"

"It's merely annoying for me. It might cost you the case. If Loki is convicted, our main appeals will be upon Constitutional right to a fair jury." Megan rubbed their temples. "All that aside, I would like to know—are you planning to seek the death penalty?"

"The—what—" Stark sputtered. "God, you're serious."

"Considering the gravity of the accused crimes, I would assume there are already petitions being signed and arrangements being made," they said, matter-of-fact.

Stark twiddled with the hem of his shirt. "Yeah... you're probably right. I mean, if it was up to me, I wouldn't kill the guy. Don't tell him I said so, but I think we'd get along, if not for the world domination thing."

"Why, Stark, I'm flattered," Loki interjected, sliding into the chair beside Megan with three plates of pancakes floating behind her. She slid a glass—of what seemed to be whisky—to Stark, who was staring open-mouthed. She smirked humorously. "I never did get that drink."