The debriefing at Stark Tower is lengthy and consists of one heated argument after another. It doesn't sit well with the Avengers that Hydra was able to do them so much damage, that they didn't know of the new weapon beforehand; even Thor had to admit those Hydra thugs proved to be a bit of a challenge this time. The only upside to the whole story is that Black Widow was able to steal a laptop that was used to control the laser. Now they know how to disable the weapon if they encounter it next time. And that's what one of the main arguments is about: will they wait until Hydra attacks again, or actively search for the laser themself? Loki couldn't care less, he's only here on Thor's request and his opinion isn't asked anyway. As a matter of fact, he has conjured up an illiusion of himself that sits there, quietly listening to Captain America and Iron Man bicker away, while he has actually turned his chair around and is reading 'The colour of magic'.
"Loki? Loki!" With a sigh, Loki looks up from his book. His attention is needed. "Loki. For once, could you act like you care?" Captain America's voice is strained, as is his jaw. Loki spins his chair back around, letting the illusion dissolve in green mist. Cap clenches his jaw harder when he sees the illusion lift, yet he doesn't say anything about it.
"Care? I nearly lost an ear yesterday because I was helping you guys out! Don't talk to me about care!" Loki's eyes shoot daggers. "Somebody fucked up. If it was one of you guys, I'm not allowed to retaliate. If it was someone at Hydra, well, I killed over two dozen of them, that should settle the score somewhat."
Before the Supersoldier can open his mouth, Black Widow speaks up. "Why don't we take a break, huh? We could all use some coffee."
"Good idea," Tony Stark agrees and takes out his phone. "I'll call Coffee & Books for some fuel."
"Don't bother," Hawkeye interrupts, holding up his own phone. "Already ordered. Should be here in a couple of minutes."
Loki pushes his chair back and walks over to the window. They're on one of the highest floors, giving him a nice view of the city. Behind him, the others are quietly talking amongst themselves, their arguments forgotten for the moment. Just like the archer said, their coffee order is delivered within minutes. Loki glances over his shoulder when he hears the door open. It's Ylva again, her special visitor's pass dangling around her neck.
"Here you are, Mr. Stark, your espresso," he hears her say. "Oh, that is quite the black eye you've got there! You had a rough night?"
"You should see the other guy," Stark smirks boyishly when he takes the coffee from her. "Thanks, doll."
She makes her round, giving everyone their order, some kind words and a smile. Loki is last and it's like she has saved her best smile for him. "Here you are, sir."
"It's Loki. Thank you." Having her stand this close to him is pleasant and unnerving at the same time. He is incredibly aware of the faint freckles around her nose, how her eyes narrow from her growing smile, the way her fingers fold around the now empty carton that held the paper coffee cups.
"Enjoy your tea, Loki," she says, tilting her head a little to the side. "Seems to me you all had a rough night. Or day."
"Or both," Loki remarks dryly, pulling the plastic lid of his paper cup.
The girl chuckles, the light sound making Loki's stomach flip. It flips again when she takes the tea bag from his hand and gets it out of the little package before she puts it in his cup. He could have done it himself with just one hand, yet she performs the little act like it's an ordinary routine for the two of them. Her easy demeanor should anger him, this kind of familiarity is unheard of for servants in the palace. Yet he doesn't see her as a servant, he even often forgets she is a mere mortal.
"See you around, Loki," she suddenly says and he realises he was lost in thought for a moment, probably staring at her. "See you next time, guys!" she pipes up, starting for the door. A chorus of goodbyes sends her off.
That evening Loki shifts to the familiar feline shape again, as he does the rest of the week. Some time after dinner she comes to the rooftop, often with a book and a cup of tea. She is reading one Terry Pratchett book after another, picking them from her cousin's collection, so she tells him. She tells him a lot of things, like how her day went or how she dealt with rude customers. Or just silly nonsense.
"Hey, little guy, what do you call a pile of kittens?" she asks the cat one evening, while he is stretched out next to her on the bench. She gives the answer to the riddle not a second later, already giggling. "A meowntain!"
Still chuckling, she comes up with another joke. "What do cats like to read? A cat-alogue!"
Loki watches her from upside down, his teeth bared in a grin. "You want to hear another lame cat joke?" Ylva asks, holding back laughter. "Just kitten!"
Desperately holding back his own laughter at her unbridled merriment, Loki nearly has a coughing fit. He quickly rolls off the bench and crawls under it to hide his all too human behaviour.
Ylva leans forward and watches him from between her knees, her wavy hair hanging down as a curtain that almost touches the ground. "You ok, little guy? Were the jokes that bad?" she smirks, before she sits upright again, swinging her hair back.
The magic is in her smile. Loki can watch her smile the whole day, every day. And her touch; feeling her hands on him only makes him want to pull her closer.
It's easy in this feline form. Just purr and nudge her hand and she'll pet him. She loves cats, had two of the little animals when she lived back home with her parents. She likes having him visit her, maybe almost as much as he likes it. Though that is in his cat form... Encountering her in the coffee shop as the God of Mischief has been less satisfying, he is more aware of who he is then, who they both are. Besides, she seems to like the lie better, even though it is just a veil, not a real lie. After all, it is always him.
When Loki crawls from under the bench she has picked her book up again; she's almost finished with this one, called 'Witches abroad'. He jumps up the bench and curls up next to Ylva, against her hip. Almost automatically her free hand comes down to stroke him, her hand stilling when she becomes too engrossed in her book.
Her hand is close to his face, his little wet nose touching her fingers if one of them moves the tiniest bit. Loki peeks through one eye to look at the girl. Seeing her face change as she reads is one of his favourite things. Human and mortal or not, she is a lovely creature.
Her fingers smell nice; he smells himself on them, as well as the faint smell of a pre-loved book that has been on a shelf for years, a little bit of coffee and above all he smells her. A woman's smell, always faintly sweet; you want to dig your nose in to get a better sense of that sweetness. His little, rough tongue finds her skin, kissing her fingers.
Ylva doesn't really pull her hand away, instead, she folds it against the side of his head, gently rubbing her thumb across his ear. He turns his head to lick her hand again.
This time she does pull back, to turn the page of her book. "You know," she says with a somewhat sly smile. "There is a cat in here too, he is quite the ladiesman." Then she chuckles over something that is unknown to Loki. "Although you are much more of a gentleman than this Greebo in here." She taps her book with her finger.
Loki sits up to look at the page. Reading is a bit hard in this shape, like his cat eyes can't always properly process the letters. He doesn't see any mention of a cat on this page, it must be somewhere else in the book.
Ylva laughs again. "You like to read, little guy? I think you have to be human for that. Oh! Like the cat in this book, a witch turns him into a human!"
Loki's eyes grow big and he swallows hard, though Ylva doesn't seem to notice. She just keeps on talking about the cat from her book. "This Greebo became the human form of what he was as a cat, basically a swashbuckling womanizer, sex on two feet. Or four paws." She gives him a mockingly scrutinizing look. "You aren't like that, you have a more sophisticated style. I think you would be more like..."
Loki holds his breath as the girl bites her lip, thinking hard. "No, the real one would have to be less stiff, more friendly... not always staring at me like I am some odd curiosity. But you do remind me of him: long black hair, green eyes, a certain swag." She nods her head, now certain. "Yes, you're Loki!"
It's a spell. A magic incantation that forces him to show himself. He can't hide anymore now that she called him on it. Oh, he knows he shifts back on his own free will, but this lie is over because of her words.
When the green mist is gone and he stands next to the bench on his own two feet, she only stares at him. Mouth open, eyes big, dumbfounded. He doesn't know exactly what to do. Loki smiles disarmingly and spreads his hands in some sort of apology. "You got me."
The effect is not quite what he expected. He didn't expect Ylva to have such a foul mouth too. She is mad. Angry. Furious.
"What makes you think you can do that!" she shouts, standing before him like a fury. "You tricked me!" Her hands clench and unclench shakingly, like she wants to throw a punch but doesn't know how. "You sat on my lap!! We... we cuddled! You licked my hand for god's sake!! You... you!"
Loki can't get a word in between, she's hurling angry comments at him, not all of them complete phrases. Then she suddenly bolts for the door. "I never want to see your lying face again!!"
The slam of the metal door is deafening.