Chapter Text
Of all people to see in avengers tower when Peter swung inside for a break from patrolling, Loki wasn't one of them. Stumbling as his feet touched the floor, Peter did a double take. Loki was perched against Mr. Stark's bar, a book in one hand and a glass in the other, seemingly either having not noticed Peter's entrance (or much, much, more likely, didn't care).
Seeing as Loki hadn't immediately blasted him to tiny, bite sized smithereens upon entry, Peter took off his mask. (Normally something that would terrify him, but he was fairly sure Loki could just magically learn his identity anyway). "Um, Mr. Loki, sir?"
The god looked up as he set his glass and book down, and an eyebrow raised in acknowledgement.
Peter moved forward in a half walk, half skip, sticking his hand out once he was in front of Loki. "Hi, I'm Peter. Or, you know, Spider-man when the mask is on."
Loki's second eyebrow raised to meet it's twin, but he returned Peter's handshake calmly, "Loki of Asguard."
Peter shuffled his feet a bit, wringing his mask between his hands. He'd never really met a god before, hadn't really ever thought he would either. "So, um, aren't you evil? A doer of bad things? You're not here to do something to the tower or Mr. Stark are you?"
Loki leaned back, resting his elbows on the counter behind him with a nonchalant expression. "It varies from time to time, I'm the god of mischief not the god of evil. And no, I'm just stealing his midguardian alcohol and borrowing his air-conditioning."
"So, just in case," Peter stuck his hands out, about a foot from one another like the beginning of a clap, "on a scale of one to ten, ten," Peter flicked right hand, "being the worst evil imaginable, like murdering puppies or something like that, and one," Peter flicked his left hand, "being you'll spit on my hotdog or rickroll me, where are you right now?"
"Maybe a three."
Peter slid his mask back on, satisfied with the answer and began his way towards the window, speaking over his shoulder, "cool! Let me know if it gets above a six. I'm sure you can find me with your god magic and stuff." With that he crawled out the window and vanished from view as quickly as he'd come with a webshot and a whoop of cheer.
Loki couldn't help but think he was going to enjoy knowing the boy.
Occasionally as Peter patrolled, or sometimes even when he was just Peter, Loki would come out of nowhere to talk, but the conversations always began the same way, with a number. The first time it had happened Peter would never forget.
He'd been walking home from school when Loki had popped out of an alley, dressed like a civilian with a gleam in his eye. "I'm feeling a strong two coming on, Peter. Care to partake in some mischief?"
It turned out Loki's number two rating meant harmless pranks that we're quite frankly, hilarious. With his magic he could make both himself and Peter invisible, so things like sneaking around the tower became impossibly easy. They started with Peter's first idea, and snuck into Tony's lab, promising Dum-e a nice oil change if he sprayed Tony with the fire extinguishers the next time something sparked (an event sure to happen almost immediately). Loki cursed the toaster to only take certain food (the ends of bread loaves) and to reject others (everything else).
Sometimes the number wasn't so low though, and Loki would find Peter with rage in his eyes and teeth grinding. One of the most memorable times had been when Peter was on patrol and Loki poofed in next to him, feet dangling over the edge of a roof.
Peter had been immediately concerned when he'd looked over. Loki was hunched over, with dark circles under his eyes and his clothes looked rumpled, without the usual care he put into his appearance. "Are you okay? Are you hurt, Mr. Loki?"
Loki had shook his head, but he'd muttered under his breath so lowly Peter was sure only his super hearing had let him understand. "I'm at a seven"
Peter had nodded in understanding, and nudged Loki's shoulder with his own. "Why don't you come beat up some bad guys with me then? That always makes me feel better."
Seeing the look on mugger's faces as the god who nearly brought New York to is knees appeared was completely worth it as Peter let Loki handle most of the fighting. Despite not fighting Peter was still sore, but that was mostly from the laughing though. Sure, sometimes Loki would bash heads, but other times he would complete humiliate the bad guys. He'd turn their guns into rubber ducks, or make the ground beneath them so slick they couldn't keep their footing. The best one by far was when he cursed a man to only be able to say "African or European" in varying tones, and Peter would never regret introducing Loki to Monty Python.
The highest Loki had ever gotten with Peter was an eight, until he'd found Peter curled up behind his school, an hour after school had let out with his head between his knees. Peter had heard the pop of the god coming in, but he couldn't help but shrink away from the noise, whimpering as it ground on his ears.
A hand had immediately settled on Peter's shoulder, but even that seemed to burn, his senses in overdrive worse than they had ever been before. It has eased quickly as the hand backed off, but Peter could feel the glow of Loki's magic over him, analyzing almost. As the glow receded Loki's voice spoke in his head, calming, and somehow painless. "Peter, I'm going to try and take away your pain but I need you tell me what happened so I know how to fix this, I can't tell what's wrong."
His throat felt like sandpaper, but it eased a bit as Loki pulled some of the pain. "It's too loud, everything feels like fire." He barely whispered, but Loki seemed to have heard him as a pair of sunglasses appeared over his eyes and his hearing was muffled. Peter looked up in surprise, finally able to lift his head, but Loki cut him off before he could speak.
"I understand sensory overload Peter, but you also have a head injury that probably exacerbated it to much greater heights. I'm going to take you to Stark, and then we're going to talk about what happened, because I'm fairly sure you didn't get hit fighting a mugger." Peter could only nod as Loki scooped him up, and he let himself sleep as the noise quieted.
By the time Peter woke up his head was better, super healing being a lovely power, but he almost wished it was still there as Mr. Stark and Loki were standing over him, both with their arms crossed.
"You want to tell us what happened, kid?" Mr. Stark didn't seem too happy, and Peter ducked his head to avoid eye contact.
"It was nothing, I'm okay. Really. I just bumped my head a bit and my senses went out of wack. I'm okay."
Loki sighed, and placed his hand on Peter's shoulder. "I am the god of lies Peter, please don't lie to me. I'll know"
Peter put his hands over his eyes letting out his words in quick burst. "A kid at school found out I was trans and pushed me down the stairs."
When neither man spoke Peter looked up, and nearly flinched. Mr. Stark was typing furiously on his phone, leaving the room as he made a call, and Loki had a look on his face that Peter had never seen before.
"Um, Loki? What's your number right now?"
Loki's hand moved from Peter's shoulder to ruffles his hair a bit as he stepped back. He smiled in a way that encompassed the meaning of psychotic good, but he spoke calmly, "ten, Peter. I'm at a ten." Before Peter could intervene the god had poofed away as Mr. Stark walked back in.
"Alright kid, that little bastards gonna be expe-"
Peter cut him off, "I think Loki's gonna kill someone, Mr. Stark. He's never been at a ten before."
Tony looked puzzled, and after a brief explanation of the evil scale he only shrugged. "Little shit will get what's coming to him for hurting you."
Peter knew it was useless to argue, but sent a mental note out to Loki, asking him to not hurt anyone, but humiliation was okay.
The next Monday found Peter laughing as the bully who'd pushed him was stuck to the wall of the gym by a green aura, 'small dicked transphobe, free to be kicked' written on the wall around him.
Peter knew Loki heard his prayed thanks when the kid's hair turned green to match.