Transgressions: Chapter 9
Words: 4,000 | Chapter List
Nothing to do.
Nowhere to be.
Nothing to prove.
No-one to convince.
You were in a haze for two weeks. A warm, soft glow. One where the day didn’t matter and time stood still. Like the No Man’s Land between Christmas and New Year, where responsibilities melted away, pajamas were the obvious choice and the world slowed.
Truly, you did have responsibilities.
But the most important commitment was the one in front of you.
Loki.
Jade’s cruelty was a gift.
Her threats of a trial televised internationally represented his largest fear in stark, loud, multicolored reality. It forced his fears out of him, confessions falling out of his mouth and tears falling hot and thick, trembling at the thought of exposing himself in front of the world.
“I would rather wander nude through the streets of Manhattan than appear so naked in public,” he had shared.
Emotionally naked.
Vulnerable.
Stripped bare.
You would be there. You assured him. He hadn’t needed your promise. It was a given. He knew it. And he didn’t take any of it for granted. Yet it did little to quell his nausea at the thought of the world knowing and then dissecting his innermost thoughts and the past actions he felt so ashamed of.
He thought the shame would eat him alive.
He tried not to think about it.
And so. He didn’t. Not while you were together.
After confessing his fears to you, a safety opened up and your trust deepened. Softened. Melted. Thawed any remaining apprehension or delay in either of you. You filled your days with music, reading, films, tea, long conversations and elegant dance in front of floor-to-ceiling glass, the maroon of the setting sun bleeding across the city skyline like ink on a canvas. It was a tutorial on how we dance on Asgard, he had said.
He hadn’t danced like that in centuries.
The summer blazed on in the city below, the finale of the late August sun giving its encore to stockbrokers, influencers, firefighters and taxi drivers alike, some walking into the city’s heat after the respite of the subway and into air conditioned offices. Like your lawyer friend. The only lawyer you knew that wasn’t a liar. The one you trusted enough to advise Loki, your old Nokia holding up throughout the hour-long call to his office line.
“If you have proof, if you have a witness like you say you do, we go the defamation route. Best case scenario, she calls off her trial. Worst case – your trial goes ahead instead of hers. You haven’t lost anything.”
Loki nodded, thoughtful fingertips toying with his lips as he so often did during thought. He would sue Jade for defamation, he decided. He proceeded with the papers. It hit the press. Despite Loki’s concerns, it was a story for a day then fizzled like the ending of a November firework display. The real circus would erupt during the trial. Besides. You had a guerilla campaign to execute. And no pesky PR people in the tower to exchange forced smiles with and drain your energy.
It was a Tuesday afternoon when an excitable scientist informed you of Thor’s video, his lilting tones blaring through the tiny speakers of your burner phone. He was enthusiastic about the breakthrough in cosmic comms, as he should be, while you were thrilled to kick-start the campaign. You texted Steve, Nat and Jess – it was time.
The video of Thor ‘leaked’ on Banner’s Instagram Live, under the guise of the doctor animatedly telling a colleague about the discovery and not realising he was streaming live to millions. To test his new technology, he was contacting Thor to update him about life on earth. Thor had asked after those he cared about, including his brother – or so Banner told the press scrum camped outside The University of Manchester. Thor was stunned to find out about his brother’s predicament and began talking about Loki’s character, naturally. Definitely not pre-planned by a communications professional. Absolutely not. Just an accidentally recorded conversation with a scientist and his Asgardian friend.
Nobody asked why the phone was propped up facing the screen. Or questioned who provided the televised media with a hi-res version of the video.
Steve was up next. He posted his statement, accompanied by an official Avengers team photo, on his Facebook page. You had insisted only old age pensioners used the platform now and suggested Instagram at least. He told you he liked Facebook. As a final flex, he reminded you of his biological age. You reneged.
It wasn’t a competition. If it was, Natasha surely won. Her Tiktok video, several weeks in the making, went live and instantly viral. A compilation of sweet, hilarious moments with her and Loki in 0.7x speed to a rousing rendition of I’ll Stand by You by The Pretenders coaxed tears from even the most hardened social media eyes.
In just-a-little-slower-than-life speed viewers saw Loki laughing, jazz hands towards the camera as it shook with Natasha’s own laughter, before the God ran towards Steve in the form of a Siberian Tiger, prompting the soldier to spill coffee over his baby blue t-shirt and hold a shaky hand to his chest. Within mere moments, Loki returned to his normal form. In the clip, Steve stomped his feet and muttered “Darn it!” It was subtitled, credit to Natasha’s editing brilliance. The camera shook and eventually fell from her hand as Loki ran back to her giggling like a child.
In another clip, unseen by the public up until this point, Natasha’s pale face, drained from injury and battle, smiled weakly at the camera and waved. She was in a hospital bed. She panned her phone to cards and flowers from the team, including a bouquet from Loki – Siberian fawn lilies. I told him once they reminded me of home, read the subtitle.
Another video showed pert butt cheeks beneath thick black fabric, Loki’s enviable side profile on display as shined shoes stood on a red carpet, elegant fingers signing autographs for a long line of fans resting against a metal barrier. He kneeled, respectfully kissing the hand of a 20-something in glasses, hair tied back modestly. Several signatures later, a burly security guard placed thick fingers on his back and ushered the God forwards. He held out a hand of apology to disappointed fans.
ONE HOUR LATER
The subtitle announced the return of the Asgardian, rushing back towards his admirers with arms outstretched to them. He took photos, signed for them, and hugged any and all who wanted it. They all wanted it. He even fished a small handy-pack of Kleenex from the inside of his suit, offering it to a teenager who was sneezing, clearly braving the elements to see her favourite despite feeling under the weather. Natasha’s text informed us:
He stayed for hours.
Followed by:
It was -5c.
The next clip was different. It wasn’t a video. It was a still photo of a bruised forearm. Loki’s. White text gave context. He stopped a beam falling on me. The photo faded. Grainy bodycam footage, initially obscured by its owner’s red-and-blue shield, showed Natasha crossing her arms over herself in brace position as a concrete beam fell. It shattered into pieces only several feet above her, blocked by outstretched arms covered in black and green leather. Loki shielded her with his body, holding his protective posture long enough to ensure the threat had ceased, turning his head sharply in all directions. Satisfied, he stood, offering his hand. He surveyed her suit with his eyes, checking for rips, tears and abrasions. Deciding she was without injury, he embraced her.
The very last image was a team photo of smiling Avengers in full armour, the original six plus Loki. The photograph remained on screen while poignant lyrics sounded.
Take me into your darkest hour
And I’ll never desert you
I’ll stand by you
Won’t let nobody hurt you
I’ll stand by you
It faded to black. White text faded in.
#IStandWithLoki
You were surprised TikTok didn’t crash with the sheer force, frequency and volume of comments:
Swoon
THIS is my Loki.
Finally!! Enough of the media fearmongering, THIS is the real Loki.
He’s a good man. Nay – a good GOD!
See, he’s soft really.
I knew he was a baby on the inside.
He is actually perfect.
Nat, you okay?? How you still standing girl.
Jade is gonna burn.
I’ve got a new name for Winters – Worst Woman In The World. Awful.
Karma is a GOD. Jade’s gonna pay.
Each person ended their comment with the same declaration.
#IStandWithLoki
#IStandWithLoki
#IStandWithLoki
It trended on TikTok. It spread to Twitter. It was the number one trending topic worldwide all day. And the next day. As well as the day after that. Fans rushed to their social media channel of choice with videos, photos and stories about their experience meeting Loki. It made Jessie’s posts look organic. Your Mancunian friend had gathered ten people, from advertising industry execs, stunt women, security, choreographers, and even former lovers – #DiamondBraceletCrew, a tag that thankfully didn’t gain traction – to come forward and say their piece. Nobody had a bad word to say about him.
It took on a life of its own. You couldn’t stop it. Even if requested to do so by a billionaire.
Tony knew you were the driving force.
He had to.
But it was too late.
The truth was out.
Loki wasn’t the monster he was painted to be.
You sat with him, hand on his shoulder, as he sat on the edge of his bed and stared at his plasma screen, duct tape-repaired remote control in hand, watching Thor’s video playing on the news for the world to see.
Loki is of Asgard, and he is my brother. Loki fought alongside me to save our people, he battled with us against Thanos, he is the very reason the Titan fell. My brother is not entirely without fault – he is a trickster. But he has a good soul. He has heart. And he would never harm a helpless human. You have my word, Midgard. On Odin’s beard.
“You did this,” Loki croaked through the tears gushing like a river over his devastating cheekbones. “You created this….” He embraced you. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And it wasn’t hard to find advocates, I promise you.”
“Ah, but in your brilliance, you weren’t gathering advocates but rather, witnesses.”
You frowned. “Loki I don’t follow.”
“The people who spoke out. They are our witnesses. For the defamation trial. I understand it wasn’t intentional. But that speaks to the layers of your wisdom.” He looked at you as though you may shatter, resting a hand on your cheek before kissing you. “Thank you.”
You placed your hand on his chest, fighting the urge screaming in every cell of your body to push him back onto the bed and mount him. Frustrated fingers wound his white t-shirt into a bunch instead.
“I know, my love. I know.” He rested his forehead on yours, intertwining his fingers with your own, teasing them from their locked position on his chest.
“Hey,” you started. “Do you remember when you’d meet a woman and fuck her ten minutes later? Remember those days? Oh how I long for those days.” You coaxed a chuckle from his throat before continuing. “I guess I…. I’m just trying to understand what changes if we wait.”
Loki sighed, long and hard. He stood, walking down the side of this bed and stopping at his nightstand. He removed an item, closing the drawer behind him. He held a business card in his hand.
The LL cards. That’s what he’s worried about.
“Problematic sexual behaviour,” he announced.
“Hmm?” You looked over your shoulder. He returned to you, sitting beside you on the bed.
“That’s what my therapist called it. I telephoned her the evening Jade accosted me. Immediately after. She can vouch for this.”
“You, erm….” You blew out a breath, attempting to remain calm. “You had an alibi this whole time.”
“Well, yes. But I didn’t feel the need to prove it to you. You believed me. Until you didn’t, and then I felt nothing in this world would convince you.”
He’s not wrong.
“And what did she say to you. That night.”
He held the card aloft, puncturing the air and punctuating a point. “She reminded me of this. The details she gave me.” He passed the card to you. “It’s a treatment center.”
The words blurred in front of your eyes. “It’s in Arizona.”
“Phoenix, yes. Predictably.”
“Oh. Okay….”
“I’m, umm…. I’m still getting them. The flashbacks. From the attack on our ship. They’re worse at night.”
“Are they worse because you’re no longer able to numb them.”
“Yes. I believe so. And because I finally have chance to feel the gravity of what happened.”
“That’s why you used to drink. And…”
“Fuck. Yes.”
“But you’re very self-aware. You know you’re doing it, and why.”
“Yes but doesn’t that make it worse? Even more shameful? That I know what I do and still I cannot stop.”
“Loki, it….” You rested a gentle hand on his thigh and looked into his eyes. “It sounds like addiction.”
He frowned. Not in distaste. But with intrigue. “How would one define addiction.”
“Well, the best way I heard it described is this – it’s the inability to stop a behaviour despite the negative impact it’s having on your life.”
“Yes. That carries. And how is it that you came to be so knowledgeable on the subject. Your psychology degree, yes?”
“Loki, I’m…. Loki I’m sober. Nearly ten years.”
“O-oh….”
“The apple juice in a wine glass. It’s not just because I’m working. It’s because I have to look like I’m drinking so that nobody questions it. It just…. it makes life easier, is all.”
“I did not realise. I apologise.” He glanced at your hand on his forearm. Without a thought, he knelt before you. “Petal. I cannot be the man you deserve. Not yet. But I will be. I need…. I need time. Please.”
“I understand. Believe me. I do.”
“Thank you.” He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand, eliciting a sigh of need from both of you.
“How long is the treatment program.”
“Three months. But. They allow visitors once per month. I would love if you would be my visitor.”
“Are we talking conjugal visits or what,” you quipped with a chuckle.
“It’s a sexual rehabilitation center, you minx.” Strong hands rested on your thighs as he stood, kissing your forehead. “So no, I doubt they permit fucking.”
“Wanking?”
“Unlikely.”
“You’re fucked, then.”
“No I’ll simply dream of being fucked. By you. And – ”
“You’re actually trying to kill me, aren’t – ”
“…. and walking around the place with a permanent hard-on.”
You let out a groan of frustration, leaning back to grab a pillow and wailing into it. Loki laughed. As recompense, you pretended to smother him with it. He wrestled you with mock seriousness and pinned you down on the bed, straddling you. “Now. My naughty little flower.” He began to grind into you, still fully clothed. You whined. “We do have something to resolve.”
“Does it involve fucking.”
“No.”
“Then I’m not interested.”
He grabbed the pillow, you squealing playfully as he held it over you. “I’ll call it a crime of passion darling!”
“Well that’s a load of bullshit given there is NO passion!”
“Umm, excuse me, we are rather passionate about one another, I’ll have you know.”
The raging erection visible through his black jeans confirmed his comments. You made a noise Loki compared to ‘an Asgardian boar’ as you flopped your arms to the side in resignation.
“Breathe, love.”
“If you tell me to calm down, I swear to God, Loki….” You draped a forearm over your eyes, no longer able to bear the devastating six-feet of eroticism towering above you.
“I’m quite serious.” His voice was calm. Meditative. “Please. Breathe for me. Breathe with me.” He breathed deeply, one hand on his diaphragm, the other over his chest, fingers spread. He closed his eyes. You closed yours. Following his breath. Hearing it. Listening to his voice. Following his instructions. After several minutes, you opened your eyes. “How do you feel my love?”
“Miraculously, less horny.”
“It’s wonderful, isn’t it. Incredibly powerful.”
“What’s wonderful is fucking.”
“Are you sure you don’t need to attend treatment,” he joked with a playful lilt.
“Oh yeah, us attending sex therapy together, yeah that’s a great idea.”
“In all seriousness. I do require your advice on something.”
“What’s that baby?”
“Well. This treatment center. I’ve kept this card in my bedside drawer for longer than I care to remember. Given it thought at length. Long before the scandal broke. And yet now, it will simply be dismissed as a carefully planned move. As though I am a congressman attempting to clear his name.”
“Respectfully, who gives a fuck what they think.”
He snorted. “That type of comment could put you out of business, would it not.”
“I’m not saying this as your reputation manager though.”
“You’re saying it as what?”
“As someone who wants you to do what’s best for your health. Fuck the comms plan.”
“If news of this conversation broke, that would be a scandal.”
“Seriously. Do what’s best for you. Don’t worry about the communications stuff. Let us clear that up. Let’s just make sure you’re okay.”
His eyes began to well with tears. “Do you know, in my thousand years I have never once heard that phrase.”
You whispered to him before placing your arms around his broad shoulders. “Then I’m very glad I said it.”
He kissed you. Slowly, tenderly. Lifting you from the bed. Holding you upright, strong arms around your back. You looked over at the windows, inky black. “I should head back, Loki. It’s late.”
“Don’t go back to your room tonight. Stay here. With me.”
You looked down. “In this bed? With you…. I mean, us…. together.”
“Yes. That is,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “if you are certain you can restrain yourself.”
“I’m gonna need constant Wim Hof breathing and maybe a cold towel, but I can do it.” You flexed a comedic bicep. “Stay strong.”
Moments later, you were in Loki’s arms, your back to his chest, before falling into the best sleep you’d had since this whole debacle began.
You woke in an empty bed. It didn’t take you long to locate Loki. His back resting against the sofa. Meditating.
“Did you sleep well love.” His eyes remained closed.
“How did you – ”
“Presence. It increases the senses. I felt you.”
“I can only dream of you feeling – ”
“Don’t.” A palm poised itself aloft in protest. “You are better than that.” He breathed in. Then out. And opened his eyes.
After breakfast, a meeting invite flashed up on your phone. You were to meet at 10am in the boardroom. Natasha was included on the invite. And Steve. A subsequent email from Tony’s first assistant asked you to bring Loki with you.
He dressed smartly. Crisp white shirt over pressed greys slacks. Tan shoes. You held his hand as you walked down the corridor. He opened the door for you. And you walked in to see your friends, Natasha and Steve, smiling and gesturing to the seats beside them, which you accepted. Tony walked in mere moments later, sweeping gratuitous sunglasses from his eyes and tossing them on the table like he owned the place. The irony wasn’t lost on you.
“Right, cat’s out the bag. I know you did it, Florence.” He folded his arms and pouted.
Fuck.
“But, you know, the public’s on board. So.” He shrugged.
You had to remind yourself. Tony didn’t care about the truth. He cared about what people believed to be the truth. The tide had turned. And he would never admit you were right, even if the gaudy $500 sneakers he wore with his bespoke suit depended on it.
You remained silent.
You all remained silent.
There was something else.
You could only pray it was positive.
“Oh, and err…. I got this.” He held up his phone to show you an email from Jade Winters’ legal counsel. “Ice Queen dropped the charges. So, no trial. Shame, I was looking forward to that, bit of Court of Public Opinion to get the blood flowin’, keep you on your toes. Guess we’ve had our fill. So. You’re back on the team.” He tossed a lanyard to Loki along with his iPhone and encrypted smart watch made by StarkTech. He sat down, hands clasped, looking at you all in turn, the sleeves of his grey suit creasing over his wrists. “Look it’s not over. We need to repair. Do a bunch of CSR, televised behind-the-scenes, a scripted documentary, I don’t care. We’re in good hands so that’s something.” He gestured to you, then stood and reached his hand across the table. “No hard feelings, Morticia.”
To his credit, Loki shook his hand. Not without the outwardly-appearing arrogant tilt of his chin.
The glass door slammed closed on Tony’s exit.
Loki burst into tears, sobbing with his head in his hands, elbows on the meeting room table. His shoulders shook.
“It’s over,” he sniffed. “Gods it’s over.”
It became a race to see who could hug Loki first. Not through competition. Purely from the love and fierce protection you all felt towards him. Natasha pulled him up to standing and he leaned into your chest, crying on your shoulder. The black widow placed a hand over your arm. You opened your eyes and looked at her. Wordlessly, she asked you for permission. With a nod of your head, she surrounded Loki’s back and held him. Steve’s arm embraced Nat on one side, and Loki on the other. It was the group hug to end all group hugs.
You had no idea how long you stood there for, but it became impossible to tell whose tears were falling onto your arms.
If you had to guess, you would say it was Rogers.
***
“You got everything?” The Russian’s silky voice held a playful tune. “Dior suit in there, yeah?”
“Hilarious, Romanoff. Truly.”
“And err…. how about your cologne? And hair gel?” The blond Captain quirked a brow. “You got that too?”
“Rogers if you utter one more infernal remark I swear I will start a rumour you are in love with me. And I’ll have you know I’ve gained followers during this entire debacle and my audience is simply dying for an exclusive.”
Natasha laughed.
“Oh and Romanoff, try not to run away with my girl while I’m gone, I beg of you.”
She shrugged. “Got my work cut out for me, Laufeyson. She’s pretty cute.” Her head nodded in your direction.
“Right, err…. we’ll take these. See you outside in five.” Steve’s biceps flexed as he picked up the God’s black sports bag. The redhead took the hint and wheeled Loki’s suitcase towards the elevators.
You were alone.
“I told myself I wouldn’t sob. But I confess, I may fail.” He sniffed as he looked down into your eyes, your arms resting on his shoulders, hands clasped behind his head, as though you attempted to lock him in place.
“I’ll visit. I will.”
“You better.” He pushed his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. He hissed upon parting, wishing he had more time.
“Nat’s had them park underground. So no papps.” You brushed your fingertip over the end of his nose. He winkled his nose affectionately.
“Thank you.”
“And Tony’s loaned one of his planes which, honestly, is the fucking least he can do.”
“All is not lost, I suppose.”
“Are you ready?”
“I am. And you’ll keep your promise? No matter what it says?”
“Hmm?”
“The video. I’ll record it in the car. And send it to you.”
“I’ll post it. You have my word.”
“And you have my heart.”
With another kiss, you walked towards the elevators, hand-in-hand.
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