Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The streets were packed today, same as always in New York. The city lights were almost too bright as they glared through the windows of Loki’s town car.

Sylvie snuggled further back into her seat, enjoying the feel of the air from the heater. The winter weather was not too egregious tonight, though the snow had stubbornly slushed from the sun earlier in the day. It was barely the middle of November, but many places had already decided to throw up Christmas garlands over everything, the string lights barely giving off any shine as they combated the light pollution of the larger bulbs nearby.

It would have been pretty anywhere else.

‘Things have been going really well for us lately. I almost feel like I deserve it.’

She and Loki had been seeing each other for nearly two years now, and they had skirted around meeting the parents as easily as a quick drive through Times Square – which was not at all.

‘Compared to my last relationship, we might as well be Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell. I really, really like Loki, but I can't help but feel like something is coming to ruin it all. There's no such thing as a perfect relationship, I know that. Sometimes it really has been easier to just let things go they way they have, to let it all coast instead of confronting how I really feel. Am I overreacting? Does he even think of me as future material?’

Sylvie turned her head slightly to look at Loki. His focus was entirely on the road, a vision of responsibility as he signaled the required amount of feet from their turn and brought them closer to their destination. Careful, calculated, and succinct in business, but gentler with her.

Loki treated her well, and their likes and dislikes were so similar that they got along like they'd always known each other. A healthy dose of doubt had helped her often in life, and to not feel that doubt made her more paranoid than rational.

‘If it's too good to be true, it probably is. I can't avoid his family forever, I know who he was. Who he… who he is.’

He didn't talk about his family, and she didn't have one, so they had conveniently avoided it. Still, with his family being so influential, it was difficult to avoid. The Odinson name was nearly as large as New York itself, commanding attention in any financial sector.

Loki's parents were real estate moguls, and though his mother had died many years ago his father was still very much a presence. His whims had a tendency to spell disaster for anyone under his purview.

The 2012 financial crises meant cheap property for New York prices, and Odin made it his business to own as many blocks as possible. Lower rent buildings were all but emptied, and people were looking to drop their assets and try somewhere quieter. Odin saw the possibilities and jumped. Starting rent low, he would slowly jack the price for businesses and apartments alike to get what he felt was his due.

‘Not really the type of person you expected to embrace class differences.’

There was the brother too. Sylvie knew of him but hadn't met him. Thor Odinson – tall, blond, broad and what most women would go nuts for. 

‘Do I actually want to be introduced to them, or do I just want someone to see me for who I am? I think I really just want to be liked enough that someone would see me, love me and say "This is Sylvie, and she’s mine!" Do you want me to be that for you Loki?’

The real Loki huffed as a car swerved in front of them to cut off the lane, not using their signals.

"What a pain. Don't you hate when people do that? The signal is right there by the wheel for fucks sake.”

Sylvie smiled at him, catching his eye as he turned to see her reaction before returning his attention to the road.

She had never been the best for anyone, and to be wanted and needed was such a large part of her self esteem to the point of unhealthy mentality.

Sylvie’s parents were a distant speck in her horizon, people she hadn't even had the privilege of forming even a fucked-up relationship with before she’d been shuffled from place to place. She had more 'parents' than most people have tiers in school. An exaggeration yes, but to a child, everything bad borders on apocalyptic. Interpersonal relationships were not her forte, but with him she wanted to make the effort.

Loki had surprised her earlier this evening when he brought up an Italian restaurant. Normally, they spent frugally to the idea that anything saved would be better spent on the fare it took to see each other. Sylvie didn’t have a car, but Loki did. In New York, parking spaces were hard to come by so they only really used it for trips they couldn't use the train or the bus to reach easily.

Bertoleone’s had opened a few months ago, so the buzz had cut away enough that they would be able to get into a reservation with just a reasonable amount of stress. It was a nice dress type of place, so Sylvie was worried about the menu prices.

“Sylvie,” Loki had said, “don't worry about the cost. I’ve been saving up to take you someplace nice, and I know you love pasta. You are allowed to enjoy nice things.”

Sylvie had scoffed, brushed it off with one of her usual platitudes before he’d laid his hands on her shoulders.

“You’re worth it to me, Sylvie.” Was all he'd said.

That had certainly shut her up.

Surprisingly, Bertoleone’s was not owned by Loki's father, which had been the main draw.

For the evening, Sylvie had chosen a sophisticated glittery black slip, one she had saved a fair amount to buy. The tasteful sheen complimented her blonde streaked hair, earrings cheap but tasteful.

Loki would have easily bought the dress for her, but Sylvie prided herself on being able to get the special (expensive) things she wanted on her own merit. Her life had taught her that nothing was ever a handout, and there were always payments down the road. He had bought the shoes, but those had been a birthday gift.

Loki was also in real estate, and he struggled to make his own name - without the influence of his adoptive father.

After the death of his mother, Loki had chosen to go by Laufeyson when he was old enough to legally change his name. That was a whole nest of issues that Sylvie could at least commiserate with him on, even though he’d had a permanent home.

As Sylvie finished that set of thoughts, they reached the restaurant. The façade was the almost 90’s American Olive Garden/false Sicilian.

‘Well, that tells me two things. Either this will be very overpriced and not good, or the food will be delicious and the owner is just elderly.’

Several groups of people stood around on the sidewalk and would have clearly been clogging the breezeway if not for the shivering attendant. A few minutes in the current weather would not have been too bad, but this poor man had clearly been out here all night.

The valet came back from helping a prior customer and prepared to take Loki’s car to the parking deck behind the establishment.

‘By this point in the night, it must be very methodical. Give a ticket for pickup. In. Park. Out. Give a ticket for pick up. In. Park. Out. Do it again.’

Loki came around it to meet her as he took the little stub from the attendant that would prove he owned the car. Sylvie quickly grabbed her small bag and stood next to him, taking his hand.

His long fingers always felt a little chilled, like his circulation wasn't very good in his hands. To Sylvie, it was a comforting familiarity. He squeezed her hand as she adjusted her light blazer with the other hand, covering a little more against a chill wind that decided to blow by.

The walk in was short, and based on the exterior, it was a little swankier than she had expected it to be.

‘Especially for a place that takes reservations, this is actually really nice. Maybe later I should demand to know how much everything costs. A place like this isn't going to have the prices on the menu.’

As they were led to their table, she felt Loki stiffen.

A taller blonde had spotted them while seated with an older man whose face made him look like he'd had several birds choose him as a point for defecation. His face was instantly recognizable – Odin Borson.

There were enough fucking signs around the city and each nearby state highway with his stupid face. She had to assume the other was his brother judging by the look on Loki's face. She had never seen him on the signs and could only assume that was how Odin preferred it.

“Loki, I didn't expect to see you today! Who are you with?” Thor asked.

Odin was coarser. “So this tramp is the reason you’ve been putting down any invitations I’ve gotten you? I might have known you’d sunk to gutters.”

Oh, fuck this bitch.

Thor had the decency to look appalled at his father but was still awful enough not to call him out on it.  

Apparently, money can't buy spines.

Loki had already started reacting, stepping in front of her to speak a few uncouth words of his own, but Sylvie didn't want to bother with hearing it.

‘Dinner is ruined, I damn sure won't sit in here and try to pretend that didn't just happen.’

People in the establishment had already begun taking in the affair like the most popular stall at a Barnum and Bailey sideshow. Glancing around, many were hastily going for their phones, eager to share this awful event for their own enjoyment. One person actually took a photo, the flash glaring harshly in her eyes.

‘I can't do this!’

Sylvie didn't bother to see if he would follow - she just tried to leave with as much dignity as she could as the gazes of the other patrons pierced her from each direction.

Loki stalked after her as quickly as he could, long legs letting him catch up much faster than she would have liked. Sylvie's carefully applied makeup, which she hardly ever used but had wanted to attempt tonight, was ruined by the tears coming more and more frequently with each step.

After that brewing screaming match she'd just escaped, she couldn't say for sure that she wasn't going to be stuck with fast food customer service forever. People were always looking for drama to enjoy at other's expense, their own little schadenfreude.

The sleek black dress she had felt so confident in just fifteen minutes before now felt like a limp tube sock. She forced herself to slow down, not for Loki’s sake but so that she wouldn’t ruin her heels in her haste to escape. They were the only pair she had, so they needed to last.

Loki just barely managed to wrap a hand around her elbow as she reached the corner to hail a taxi, nearly falling over as he came to a stop at the corner with her.

“Look, I didn't know they would be there or that they would do that. I wouldn’t have brought you otherwise.” He tried, slightly winded. “You know I care about you; I wouldn't put you in that situation willingly – it’s why you’ve never been formally introduced!”

‘I know. But what if you pick them over me? They have way more to offer you. I'm too afraid of what you might say.'

“I’m sorry Loki, but I can't do this. I was stupid to think something like us could have worked.” She tried not to look at him, didn't want to see or feel his concern.

‘I can't drag you down. I should have known, good things don't work out for me. You can be so much better, and I’m in the way.’

“Sylvie, surely you know I don’t care that you work service industry. You're you, and that's all that matters to me. You know that don't you?”

 She smiled bitterly. ”You would bring me with you to a Met Gala smelling like restaurant grease and wearing the newest oil stains?” She couldn’t help but laugh at her own hack at her dress. “Don’t make me laugh. We’ve been together this long and they didn't even know I existed.”

‘I know why, you told me why. But you have to believe this.’

He was not that pretentious and despised the airs of ‘high society’. She knew he did, but she wanted to hurt him before he could hurt her later down the line, when she would finally feel safe just to have it ripped from her again. Better to avoid drawing it out - she was used to it. He didn't deserve the trouble her presence brought.

She could feel rather than hear his exasperation.

”It isn't like that! I hate them, why would I expect you to feel any differently?! This was not planned.”

“Why not let me make that decision for myself then Loki? You know, that's on me. I thought you could be different.”

It sounded cruel, even to her. Especially since it was a lie.

His hand drifted away from her side, dropping to smack his own. Or at least she assumed, by the light sound shortly after he let go.

“Sylvie…”

She knew that would sting, but it was honestly how she was feeling right now.  He'd made it a point to strike out on his own, not to rest on (adopted) nepotism and the family name but she had to face facts. Eventually, he would realize she was beneath him.

It was too late to take her statements back.

“No. I’m sorry Loki but I can't do this anymore. My grease and I are going back where we belong.”

A taxi finally saw her signal and pulled alongside them. He may have said something else; she wasn't sure. It would be like him to do so. Sylvie just closed her eyes and tried not to think about what she was losing. Her pride could not let her look back.

A week later, Sylvie sat in her own space.

Logistically (and by design), her apartment was small. Smaller space meant smaller rent, less to move and less to buy to fill that space. It was a matter of practicality, letting her move more freely if something terrible happened and she had to upend her life, yet again.

Her phone had buzzed violently for several days, left on silent after her impulsive action to leave Loki. Some days she would not touch it at all, and yet the battery would be almost completely drained from the frequency of his worried messages. It may seem like a bit much but considering that she had disappeared from anywhere but work it made sense that he was worried.

At least he respects me enough not to show up at my job. He knows I can't afford to miss a paycheck. I want him, and I need him, but I’m no good for him. Why can't he let it go?

After all of his persistence, Sylvie finally looked at the messages on her phone.

The most recent one was from today:

| Please at least let me know that you're ok. Please? Meet me at our usual coffee shop so we can talk about this. I understand that you're angry and I’m sorry that I didn't tell them.|

‘No sense in reading the others - they're probably all the same.  I’ll at least hear him out, but my mind won't be changed. Odin’s reaction to me was the sucker punch from reality I needed.’

No matter how hard she worked, that class would never accept her on principle alone. Shitty principles, but the ones they held. Loki might, but for how long? When he succeeded in his goals, when would the novelty of her wear off?

Before she could change her mind about doing it, she responded as simply as she could.

|Fine. 6.|

Sylvie had a lot of time to kill until the meeting. It gave her a chance to think through her life.

‘My parents abandoned me as soon as they legally could, so no chance of me getting dumped back on them in the form of abandonment charges. After such a lovely introduction, I’m bounced from tentative relation to tentative relation, hoping one would have enough pity of me to keep me long enough to call a place home.’

This kind of thinking was thirsty work. Dragging herself up off of the bed she was sprawled on, she walked the thirty steps or so to the built-in kitchenette to start the tea. There was a new one she had found when she first started dating Loki - with licorice and mint, and it had quickly become her favorite. A weird combination to consider at first glance, but absolutely delicious.

As it steeped, she continued to think back on her life.

‘When the ‘family’ ran out, then came the foster families. The Department of Human Resources couldn't pay people enough to keep me up. By that point the idea of a safe and happy home was nonexistent, so I ran away frequently and as a result got shuffled around more.’

Ms. Verity had really tried her best to help. She believed in her mission to help the lost children – as she called them – find their place in a loving family. Not everything can be perfect, and Sylvie sure as hell wasn't. Still, she appreciated the efforts she put into her by somebody during that difficult time in her life.

The tea had finished steeping, so she absent-mindedly tossed the bag into the sink. No visitors coming anytime soon, so there was really no point in worrying about it right now. The minimal effort to throw the bag into the trashcan under the sink felt insurmountable.

‘After all of that, I somehow managed to finish school and had to find the first job I could within walking distance. Cars are too expensive, too hard to maintain. I’ve busted my ass for over two years, and despite how new I am, they decided to make me a store manager? Insane!’

People loved to look down on fast food workers even though they complained mightily about services that were supposedly beneath them when they weren't available. Even with her job title, the stigma of customer service was like a tar that couldn't be removed.

‘Oh, that's only for teenagers.’ A random person would say as they spoke poorly of all of the people who kept them going with a quick meal or coffee. It happened all the time, from the lowest wage salaryman to the Silicon Valley tech bro. Her job and people like her were jokes to them.

‘Sure buddy, that's why those types of places are only open from 3:30pm-7:30pm. No teenager is running districts.’

Her arguments always sounded sharper in her own mind – she couldn't afford to risk losing her job for the temporary satisfaction of putting an asshole in their place for a few seconds.

She had managed to nearly double her wage and was even in the process of transitioning to a new franchise that actually paid people what they were worth. No gender wage gaps there. She had done the work of her previous store manager and received none of the credit. It wouldn't be her problem anymore – let the place burn.

The night out with Loki at the Italian restaurant had been to celebrate her hard work, the hard-fought achievement. Naturally, something devastating had to happen because of it.

Fuck TVA restaurants. Fuck assholes like Odin Borson. They just used people up and expected you to be grateful for the pennies you got.

‘Enjoy the barest minimum of health care plan we could offer, at the cost of a quarter of your monthly earnings! Hope you don't plan to use it. ‘

As the sun started to set, Sylvie pulled on her most comfortable winter weather outfit and made her way to the coffee shop.

It wasn't a Starbucks type place but was literally more of a hole in the wall.

Aroma was more of a ballpark kiosk with a small seating area outside and drinks handed out the roll up window.

The bakery in the next neighborhood over, Dulce, had a deal with them to sell treats out of their kiosk for a cut of the sale. Best conchas on the planet. No, she would not test that statement.

Loki stood there with what was likely a black coffee, and he’d apparently also ordered her usual drink – a simple hot chai.

‘Maybe he even remembered that I like Splenda more than sugar.’

It was an artificial sweetener, but it tasted sweeter than regular sugar to her. It was supposed to be better for you anyway.

He had on a sleek, tight suit like he usually did – he must have come straight from work to meet her. The dark color complimented his equally dark hair, but Sylvie liked to imagine that a dark blue would look nice on him as well. The businessman effect was slightly ruined by his comfortable but beyond-its-best-days coat.

‘Same Coat, same.’

Standing awkwardly, they faced each other. Loki carrying the cups and Sylvie clutching her bag a little tighter than necessary. His anxiety way clear, and Sylvie didn't want to draw this out to the point that she would change her mind, so she decided to make the first move.

“So? Let's talk then. The park is right there.” She indicated the entrance nearby. He followed, quietly handing her the other drink.

Once they walked the short distance to the park, they didn't have much time before it closed. It was a smaller one, not Central, but they did have to be out by sunset. The lamps were switching on, already following their timers.

His breath wheezed thickly through his nose as he slowed near a bench, turning to face her.

“Don’t you think you're overreacting just a bit? You know I don't like my family. You’d have seen me standing up for you if you hadn't run off.”

Sylvie couldn’t help but bristle. Her vision stayed for a moment on the ugly green stitch on his coat sleeve. ‘For luck’, he’d said as he fixed it on her couch.

He was right, but that didn't mean she would tell him that. “I keep thinking about what he said. I know he's likely a bitter old bastard but I couldn't help thinking about what he said. You could do way better than me. I’m only dragging you down.” 

He looked deeply wounded. “Don’t I get a say?”

“Not this time. I’m going to do it for you.”

Freedom of choice was huge to Sylvie, as she had spent so much time having none at all.

‘I see my own hypocrisy, but I need him to be safe. Please Loki, for your sake, let me go.’

She looked down awkwardly, trying not to see his expression anymore. She wouldn't be able to do this if she looked, saw the pain she was causing him.

‘I couldn't expect you to completely extricate yourself from the pull of your family. Whether you liked it or not, this is the easiest way to success for you. Who am I to deny you that? I’ll struggle as I always have and make my own way.'

“Goodbye, Loki. Thanks for the tea.”

She hadn't even taken it, she just knew somehow. Her cup sat precariously on the arm of the bench beside him, closer to toppling that it was to stability – a perfect metaphor for her decisions today.

As she walked away, Loki sat heavily onto the bench, staring unseeingly at his own cup. He didn't feel like drinking it now.

Chapter Text

Her words rolled around in his mind, flipping whichever way he could reasonably imagine in the moment, only to still come up with nothing. The cup had gone cold a while back, but still he gripped it tighter, to the point that the lid started to slide off.

How had such a good day gone so horribly wrong?

It was a Sunday night, which normally meant no fuss and more privacy. The people who lived it up on the weekends (or had time to pretend to, anyway) would have long cleared away to nurse hangovers, which meant a night celebrating Sylvie’s achievements like she deserved.

She had stayed with him the night before, and Loki had awoken with her curled around him the way he had always wanted her to. That night, Loki planned to ask her if she would be willing to get a place together – no more worry about dual costs of living, and he would make sure there was space for her to really feel like she could leave her distinct impression on things.

No more living small to ease the seemingly inevitable move, no more restraining her personality by living solely to work. More than anything aside from loving her, Loki really just wanted to give Sylvie a place to exist without worrying about whether she could have better spent her money on something else - to let her eat something more than cup noodles or single serve pasta and feel like she wasn’t cutting into her future meals.

Hell, to just let Sylvie feel like she was safe and stable enough to not have to consider restaurant waste as one of her three meals for the day.

He gripped the cup as if it could anchor him to the bench, the city, because he felt like he was floating in vast seas of nothingness. Everything around him was a possibility, but none of them the one he wanted. What was the point of an infinite reality if he couldn’t make the one he wanted (and needed)?

‘I know I’ve been gone a lot, but I’ve been trying to make a name for myself without my family! I don't care where Sylvie works– she works, and she works her ass off. Fast food restaurant or not, she could tell me she wants to stay at home for the rest of her life and damn it I would kiss her feet and AGREE. That's not her style, but I would do whatever she needs me to do. Needed me to…’

Sylvie did not expect him to be her ticket to anything, and he admired her for that. He always came home to her as soon as he could – they had separate apartments, because she had wanted it that way, but they always saw each other as much as possible.

When you work all the time, those little moments of just being together mean so much more. Lazing about the flat of one or the other partner because you are too exhausted to do anything else means you have to become very comfortable with the other person, and Loki felt that they were very comfortable together.

Or had been, anyway.

His place wasn't much bigger than hers, but it was closer to the city proper for work. Rent was hard to meet, like any other New York contiguous apartment so he worked long and often. More than once, Loki wanted to ask her to just move in with him, but he was afraid. Afraid of ruining what they had and making her become sick of him. Sunday night would have been the night he finally wrangled his metaphysical and literal balls and just asked her to move in with him.

Caring for each other was one thing when you had your own place to decompress, but being with someone in nearly every free moment you had could cause considerable strain on a relationship – it had been proven consistently through anecdotal experiences from his coworkers. Just because it didn’t work out for those people didn’t mean it couldn’t have worked for them, but that would just be him circling on his thoughts.

They actually lived very similarly – only the occasional splurge, with modest, cheap furnishings.

Again, he ran through every scenario he could imagine, wondering what he could have done differently.

It may not have been anything he had done – it was more likely that she had been waiting for the other boot to drop, the next door to slam shut and lock – so much as it was an opportunity to convince herself that he was as she had always feared he would be. A great beast encircling the earth at the end of the world.

‘Why hadn't she felt safe with me? What did I do wrong? Why would she ever think I would leave her?’

When his car had broken down outside that McDonalds, when he first broke away from Odinson’s Realty, things had been grim. The clothes he owned were older but nice - new ones were an expense he could not afford to take on, the coat he wore now facing ‘bulldog stitches’ (ugly as hell but it got the job done) to repair the tear it had gotten as he had attempted to ascertain the problem with the engine.

Sharp metallic burr from some point of the engine (likely the culprit) had seized the sleeve and shredded the fabric there. The threads pulled just like his patience was quickly unraveling with the situation he had willingly placed himself in. What the fuck was he thinking, trying to do this on his own? Sure, he had to swallow everything that made him who he was, but at least there had been stability.

Even though holding himself in was slowly killing him.

Sylvie had been working, as he would soon learn she almost always was – 16+ hour shifts were the norm. He had gone inside to have a dollar’s worth of syruped caffeination while he planned his next move. Even to an extremely novice mechanic like himself, he knew the car repair would be expensive, and it may actually be cheaper to get a new-to-him used car instead of trying to fix it.

She was the shift lead at the time, and due to the hour, despite being close to New York it was empty aside from the crew. At his soured expression, she’d charged him the price of a senior drink to get a rise out of him, though he wasn’t much older than her.

His laugh, like their easy discourse had been unexpected and filled the time while he waited for the tow. Numbers had been exchanged, and he’d been more grateful to not be a face on one of the business billboards because Sylvie had no assumptions about him. He was taken as he was, not as who his family was.

The simple gesture of basic human acknowledgement hit him hard, and the frequent texting that followed their exchange of numbers quickly grew to a friendship, and her asking him out. Her free time was precious, yet she still chose to spend the majority of her nonworking, waking hours with him.

Loki saw the tired distress in her eyes, but he also saw her desperate drive. Come death or whatever, Sylvie Lushton would have torn the world to pieces to achieve her goals and Loki would rather walk barefoot through Muspelheim than do anything other than stand beside - or even just behind - her.

What Sylvie saw in him, he had no idea but after decades of being seen as a necessary evil in the family who only held a place for him at the loving whim of his deceased mother, any positive attention was welcome.

A string of poorly placed trust in a myriad of broken relationships – if they could even be called that – had convinced Loki that he was unloveable. Sylvie, she saw something in him that he clearly did not see in himself, and it felt like breaking through a frozen lake from the bottom. The years of ice shifted away from the cracks she dug into his poorly constructed defenses and letting her in seemed like the easiest thing in the world, the most natural thing he could have ever done aside from breathing.

All of this Loki truly felt, but one simple sentence of three words was something he could not bring himself to say.

It was almost like destiny, Loki only slightly hesitated to think. Sylvie was beautiful, even as tired as she always was. He'd been world weary as well, struggling to meet expectations that were never built for him or his talents.

Ruthlessness was expected of Odinsons, while he preferred personality. Loki wouldn't want anyone to live in a terrible home of pasted over holes just to make a sale. He was very honest when it came to the properties, and while that wasn't seen as proper selling technique it meant that people would not be trapped underwater before they even knew they were in the middle of the sea.

Emotionally or literally.

The decision to be open about who he was with her hadn't been difficult once they began talking regularly. If she was surprised by his revelation, she kept it to herself.

Remembering that day was easy.

She gave him an odd look, perched on the end of Loki’s bed in his apartment.

‘I grew up seeing your father's commercials, and I remember seeing you in them. We never met, but we may as well have grown up together.’

She’d laughed in that beautiful way of hers and said, ‘I wanted to give you the chance to show me who you are.’

So why didn't she believe him? It didn't make any sense.

What he had wanted to say to her today was on the end of his tongue, cutting him for its sharpness and honesty. “Don't I get a say?” Had been what came out, but what he wanted to tell her was that he loved her – her drive, her little scrunch of her nose when she was amused, the fierceness with which she met every obstacle she hit and inevitably scaled.

Many would have given up and gone to a new place for work; tried for months to shift into a different customer service position if that was the goal. All of it felt the same anyway, the only differences seeming to be in procedure more so than in action. Terrible attitudes against the limited resources available to the workers at the time, forced to bear the brunt of incompetence drained from much farther up the pipeline of supposed superiority. Of course some workers were just terrible, that was true of any establishment, but more often than not the issues were unfixable on the ground level.

Her goals were always to tackle what would be insurmountable to anyone else, he thought.

Loki should have told her before how he felt, but he was afraid of scaring her away. Maybe Sylvie was right – it’d been nearly two years and he'd been afraid. Of what? Not of judgement on himself from others, but of her rejecting him. Pretending that it was less serious had worked, until it didn't.

While Sylvie had been wrong about him and his family, he understood why she thought he was ashamed of her. He couldn't blame anyone but himself.

‘My fear of rejection was self fulfilling. I rejected the idea that she could ever love me, and it pushed her away.’

The sun was setting, casting deep shadows and making the formerly happy place look downright sinister. The park was close to closing, an officer soon on the way to do a cursory sweep before the nighthawks swept in to ply their unsavory trades.

The large tree ahead of him looked monstrous in the new lighting, reminding him of his father. Rough, tall, brusque, overwhelming. The future felt grim.

A Gary Numan lyric came to his mind - ‘Death, death until the sun cries morning.’

Sylvie liked his darker new music, while Loki liked his older and newer stuff. Both were good, but today …

Down in the Park indeed. ‘I was in a car crash – or was it the war? – but I’ve never felt quite the same…Little white lies like I was there.’

The slight light mirrored his shaded thoughts. He’d been afraid, but he also thought he had been very open with her about who he was as a person. That was his lie then – “Look at me, I’m here, I’m completely open to you!”

If she doesn’t care for him, then she doesn’t care.

He could only assume that the other little white lie he told himself was that she thought he was there for her.

The large number of texts he had sent her now felt like a drop in the ocean.

‘I did it, I finally told her I loved her – but through texts. I sent so many, surely she wouldn't have read through all of them. I probably buried it without even realizing it.

Just like I’ve been doing. All of this time, and I couldn't make myself say it to her face.’

She hadn't said anything either, so maybe it was just about passing time for her. He screwed his eyes shut, crunching the cup in his hand. Well, his mallory heart could tighten. He stood swiftly, throwing out the cup and lid that had sprung free in the trash can beside the bench.

Briefly, he looked at her cup. He reached towards it for a moment, before aggressively shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat.

‘Deep breaths Loki’, he thought.  Everything is moving.

‘I loved him’, she thought as she hurried away. The last bus left soon, and she was determined to be on it, and not stuck in his car for the awkward silence that would have surely followed if she missed it. It was a good thing she was off work today – it would be impossible to be personable today.

Not after this.

Eventually, she would have had to face his family. They couldn't be a secret forever, she knew that. It didn't make it any easier.

Actually, it made it worse because in her gut Sylvie felt he would stand up for her, that he would have made the rift between himself and his family even deeper.

Yes, things had been great for them up to that point. She couldn’t predict the future though – if things went badly, he would likely be alone if he stuck with her.

Who was she to pull him from them?

‘I can't be worth that much.’

Sylvie was used to being alone, it was just the default position for her. Bad relationships, bad memories. Well, they could have been one good memory. She’d made that a bad one now too.

Sylvie believed in free will, of making your own decisions- the irony wasn't lost on her. By denying him the option, she had chosen to avoid prolonging what she believed was inevitable.

It was a good thing she'd turned away so quickly – the look on his face when he’d asked if he got a say – it was too close to something real. That dagger was staying firmly in its sheath. Better for everyone - friendships made more sense right now.

It was far too late for her to tell him the truth.

‘And I’m too afraid to hear his truth. He may love me back, but he may only see me as a fling. We were comfortable, for a while, but maybe I was just as unsure as he was. The knife is balanced perfectly on both ends, and I’m too afraid to see the outcome. We might as well be Schrödinger’s lovers.’

Sylvie took a deep shuddering breath as her brisk walk finally brought her to the bus stop she needed to reach. Another man sat within the enclosed stop, playing with an orange DS.

She’d try again, eventually. For now, she could focus on herself, and work. The end goal was to own her own business, to oust TVA from the franchise group.

To have qualifications and job opportunities based on skill, not just who had played golf with the owner or not. If she had to do it from the inside for a while, so be it. Starting over somewhere else made no sense to her, especially not at a different chain. It would only mean she had lost any seniority she'd earned, and even the meager raises she’d been given over the years – not to mention having to relearn procedures. It would be like all of the stress she had dealt with was for nothing.

Sitting down at the other end of the enclosed bench, her mind turned back to Loki.

What if he’d loved her too? That was almost unconscionable. She crossed her arms over her chest, gripping her sleeves as she felt an involuntary shiver. Regret was quickly creeping in more than the chill outside.

“Bit cold isn't it?” Came the voice of the man beside her. He’d looked up slightly from the dramatic tones of his game to look her in the eye. He wore a simplistic business casual outfit, a small leather messenger bag beside him.

Turning toward him, she decided to distract herself by talking for the few minutes it would take for the bus to reach them.

“A bit. What are you playing?” He looked very happy to talk about the subject.

“Fire Emblem! I love the strategy. Sometimes I just wish it wouldn't make you feel so badly if you accidentally lose a character in a battle. I always reset if they fall because you get attached to them after spending so much time working with them. They all kind of have their own personalities!”

Sylvie wrinkled her nose a little, looking down at the little screen as he showed the field of battle he was traversing. It seemed interesting.

Before she knew it, they were talking about the roshambo type battle mechanics on the bus and getting off at the same stop. They even shared the same building.

“You didn't tell me your name”, Sylvie said, introducing herself first.

“Oh, sorry!” He replied, pushing up his glasses as he put away his system in a back pocket. His hand extended out for hers for a handshake. “It’s Olan, but you can call me OB. Everyone does!”

Chapter Text

Nearly a year passed.

Sylvie found herself reading through the long sets of messages Loki had sent her during the week she'd gone radio silent on him. Frustration, confusion, guilt, and worry from the least to the grandest size were the emotions running through the messages. For some reason, she couldn't bring herself to delete them.

More like she couldn't admit that she may have overreacted.

Starting again from the beginning of the message history, she saw something that equally thrilled and horrified her. It was nestled into a larger message that she often skipped, assuming it to be more of the same despite the fact that she could not delete them all. If she could only have this part of him, a part of her needed them.

|Please Sylvie, I lo-|

She couldn't even make herself finish reading it.

In a panic, the messages she had clung so desperately to were deleted. If it was true, if he had really felt the same – it was unconscionable. She would have been the destructor, and not everything outside of her.

‘Even if he lo-… Cared about me then, how could I ever expect him to now? I didn't deserve him when I broke it off and I sure as hell don’t now. How could I ever expect him to forgive me?’

It was getting late, and she needed to get to bed. Work was in a few hours.

Trying to make sure that she wouldn’t do something stupid like try and message him after all of this time, she hovered over his contact card in her phone, finally forcing herself to delete his number from her cell.

He’d deserved better than her.

He’s always deserved better than her.

OB was a nice guy – he somehow managed to be both deadpan serious and hilarious at the same time. Despite herself, she found that OB genuinely made her laugh.

When getting their respective laundry from the basement one day, OB spontaneously picked up one of his socks. He tapped her on the shoulder and held it to his face like an over-exaggerated mustache.

She stared curiously at him, until he feigned shock.

“Oh, forgive me, I have it on backwards.” Flipping the sock over, he put an intense expression on his face, and added in a very serious voice, “I am sock man!”

It was so absolutely absurd and stupid; Sylvie could not help the hacking guffaw that escaped the hand she’d slapped over her mouth.

OB had been terribly pleased with her reaction.

His dark hair reminded her of Loki’s, in a strange way. His hair was straight, while Loki’s had curled, but if she saw him from behind at a distance, she could almost…

Anyway.

Getting along with OB was easy. He let her talk about what interested her, and even if what he talked about wasn't something she would normally be intrigued by, OB had a way of making it compelling to her. For a bit, at least.

As for OB, his interest in her seemed genuine. Any silly little thing she chose to talk about in his presence left him hanging on her every word. Whether she was venting about the most ignorant customer of the week – who the fuck demanded ice only on the bottom of a drink and thought that was a literal possibility? -  or just talking about the cute family that came in for kid’s meals as a treat, work wasn’t an off limits topic.

Sometimes he would talk about his tech job, and Sylvie really did her best to follow him but it was a little beyond her. When she told him that, he made it a point to simplify it, even though she said it really wasn’t necessary. He made more than her, but OB never made her feel like she was beneath him. Loki hadn't made her feel that way either, but at least now she didn't feel like she was holding anyone back.

Friendships were just fine, and as of now Sylvie had no intention to get entrenched into another relationship. This was a good thing – more time to throw herself fiercely into her work and achieve her goals without worrying about making someone else feel left behind and unimportant – or worse, someone to remind her that she should allow herself to relax.

How could Sylvie relax, knowing that working a few more hours could be the difference between reaching her goal sooner, sleep be damned? Unfortunately, the lack of regard for her own well being was seen as a plus in her line of work.

OB  was a good friend, and honestly it was nice to have someone to talk to outside of work – even though she usually ended up talking about work.

They met once a week at a small gaming café nearby to destress and enjoy the free community puzzle. Kids frequented the spot to rent a video game booth for the few hours it took to give their parents a break, and it gave them a chance to brag about their scores on the vintage games to each other. Once a month, Sylvie and OB would buy a game ticket and play one of the selections together. She was pretty killer at Snake, the careful organization of the later levels complimented her work skills. OB made Galaga look like child’s play - a different kind of stress somehow made for better fun, he said.

It helped that the food was really good – the inventively named drinks referring to bygone pixelated heroes played further on the nostalgia too. There was a separate area for people to play table top role playing games, and even a small selection of local beers available for purchase.

Over the span of these several months, Sylvie did come to truly consider OB a friend. The games forced them to get to know each other and despite herself Sylvie found herself liking his shy nature. She even tried a few games she would have never considered before.

Sylvie tried as hard as she could to be a decent friend, but a part of her always ending up lingering on thoughts of how it could have been Loki that she was still having fun with. Not to say that she didn’t appreciate OB – she did – but it was the scream in the back of every quiet moment to herself, or any lull in a conversation.

Her choice had been made, and Sylvie was doing her damndest to live with it.

OB surprised her by knocking on her apartment door one morning. It was one of the rare weeks that her work start times matched his, and he had remembered this. He was dressed a little more sharply than normal, and it left Sylvie thinking that he must have a big event going on at work. He didn’t dress sloppily to begin with, but he had also clearly decided to make more of an effort this time.

‘Wonder what he’s got going on today?’

“Sylvie, good morning! Since our schedules match up a little this week, I wanted to know if you would ride the bus with me today. It’s obviously fine if you don’t want to, but I wanted to offer.”

He smiled a little sheepishly at her, almost as if he thought he sounded over eager.

The revelation of last night was weighing heavily on her, and the last thing Sylvie wanted was to be left to her thoughts on the long ride to work.

“Sure OB. Let's go.”

He looked positively giddy.

After that first time, they rode the bus together to go to work and sometimes spent time with each other after. He worked in tech and was very good at it. His first job had actually been for the company that created the iconic Cingular phone alert sound. Not a job he'd personally worked on obviously – he was her age – but still interesting.

When the Dot Com boom dropped out in 2000, layoffs followed, so his internship was one of the first cuts despite the fact that he'd made very little. First In, First Out didn't apply in tech. New York had seemed like the second-best option at the time for tech opportunities (thank you Tony Stark), so here he was. A few recent years working under Stark had left him with a sizeable set of skills, not always militarily applicable but often medically useful.

OB was intelligent, quirky, and sweet. An ouroboros of an individual -  for writing code in a wholly unique way, but still cycling back to the needed projection or point - his nickname was apt. His long-winded explanations followed his skill set, as he was able to speak the advanced technical jargon but also possessed the ability to make the same talk easily shift into layman's terms.

He was smooth too.

On the ride home from work that day, he slipped a small compliment of her into their conversation.  ‘

“Your hair looks great today, Sylvie!”

Sylvie couldn't help but be flustered.

‘I must look like a hot mess after being around the fryers all day. He can't be serious!’

“Now I know what you're thinking, but I mean it. You always do.”

From there, she got those compliments frequently. Not enough to be overwhelming, but definitely enough that she noticed he may have an interest in them being more than friends.

After a horrible night, one of the worst she had ever worked – who the fuck complains about not knowing the ice machine wasn't working when there were three signs on the machine itself, and one on every door? For fuck’s sake - she found a small vase of flowers outside her door for her.

Daisies and hyacinths – new love?

Once, in the whole time she had known OB did she mention that she enjoyed learning traditional flower meanings. Loki had sometimes gotten her flowers based on that premise, but she had quietly pretended not to know their meanings. She was reticent to completely allow herself to be open with anybody, so the fact that Loki had remembered it should have been a huge neon sign pointing to the fact that he loved her. Hell, a billboard as large as the one leading into the town proper with his father’s face on it.

The version of reality where they were happily together was a long-gone possibility, so Sylvie shook her head fiercely and looked more closely at the flowers.

A small note on this bouquet from OB read:

“I know it’s cheesy, but am I the only one to see the bloom?”

Followed by a small heart, and a question mark. A shaky little thing.

She sighed heavily – a relationship was not really her goal at the moment. Sylvie had made the position of store manager, and people were finally noticing her contributions within the franchise. Working shifts like the one she had just finished made her a person who could be relied on, which was both a blessing and a curse.

Being reliable meant she could almost always count on overtime. Unfortunately, it almost meant that on holidays, her lack of children meant she was automatically up to work them for some reason. She didn't have family she was close to, but that didn't mean she shouldn't also get a holiday off once in a while.

The dedication she showed meant there were whispers of her even becoming the district manager, but she wasn't supposed to know that. Her store was efficient as hell, and her crew respected her efforts to help them with their work when needed.

There were also the crueler comments and whispers around her, accusing her of licentious behavior to get where se was. When the fuck would she have time for that? She was in the store more than the lights were on. Hell, sometimes she was the one who turned them on and off.

The youngest son of the aging owner of TVA had made increasingly poor business decisions, slapping temporary bandages over problems with machines and materials that really required biting the bark and replacing things despite the initial cost. Company structures were shaking badly, and she would cut the gordian knot and reshape it.

Variations in skillset were extremely apparent between him and Sylvie. Nathaniel Richards had everything handed to him by a hard working but gullible father who wanted to give his son every opportunity, whether he earned it or not. Because of it, Richards expected everything for nothing. Sylvie took things more seriously because she had come from and felt like nothing.

Sylvie knew how to do everything in the store, and how to fix the majority of the mechanical issues. Victor knew how to … stand there and look like he was in charge.

The differences between the owner of TVA restaurants and Odin Borson was sadly funny.

‘Loki’s father saw so little in Loki, despite his obvious talents. The CEO of TVA restaurants put too much faith in his son based purely on the fact that they shared a name.’

Customer satisfaction was down, in all but one store – hers. Despite the strains she managed to keep things running smoothly and she'd finally been acknowledged.

What could it hurt, to be with OB? Maybe it would help distract her from what she had lost with Loki.

‘I’m finally getting recognition at work. Things are turning around, and this could be a turning point in my life.’

She had already let a good thing go while making poor assumptions – maybe OB could be her second chance at happiness. What would be the sense in refusing herself a new start? The relationship she had with Loki was irreplaceable and irreparably broken.

OB had proven to be a decent enough guy so far – she would give him a chance.

The real question would be if she could give him the focus he deserved.

For their first date, OB decided to take her out for fine dining. She only had one, very simple stipulation.

“No Italian.”

OB had mentioned it being a favorite of his, but was graceful about saying he didn’t mind going somewhere different- he could eat it any other time.

Sylvie’s reason was a little more practical that dislike.

‘There are only two fine dining Italian restaurants nearby in our price range, and seeing Odin Borson for the first time in one was really enough for me for a lifetime.’ 

OB chose a Vietnamese restaurant, and they had several delicious foods she could not remember the names of but had tried at his suggestion.

Trying more international cuisine was definitely on her to-do list.

It was an excellent date, followed by several more.

All she could think about was Loki, and how she wished it was him instead.

Before Sylvie knew it, they had been together for five months. They went to all of her favorite places - he treated her like a treasure, frequently bought flowers, bragged to anyone he could about her qualities.

OB was the boyfriend every person dreamed of, but she just could not bring herself to put the same energy into it. She was not cruel to him by any means, but she knew she was distant compared to how she'd felt and been with Loki. It wasn't anything OB could have fixed – Sylvie cared about him, but she could never love him the same way. Not when she still loved Loki, despite all of her bravado.

OB made it a point to check in on her during the day – not in a creepy way, just as a ‘Hey, hope your day is going well! Miss you.’ Or ‘Is the jazz bar ok for this weekend? We could use a night out.” Sylvie responded appropriately, doing her best to give him the attention she should. It wasn't his fault she was hung up on her mistakes.

For their anniversary that month (of course this sweet guy would count months), OB completely surprised her.

They were sitting in his apartment, enjoying some simple takeout. Pizza, because who wants burger after sitting in a McDonald’s all day? She got a Hawaiian pizza (which originated from Greek immigrant living in Canada and pineapples aren't even native to Hawai’i) just to gauge his reaction. He hadn't cared, but left it for her while he poured copius amounts of red pepper flakes over his thin crust pepperoni.

He decorated sparsely, almost like a museum. His tastes were modern, but slightly eclectic. Sylvie thought he was very interesting that way. Here and there his apartment had a nod to old sci-fi, like vintage adventure comics or even the Weird Science magazine poster in his entryway. Atomic design was reflected in the sparse knock-knacks. An odd orange paint was on the walls, and all it make Sylvie think was that he would definitely have to paint over it if he moved. The landlord would definitely hate it, if he ever came out of his office.

“Sylvie! I want to do something really special for you for the five-month milestone. I noticed your record collection, and I think you’ll really like this.”

“What are you thinking?” She turned to face him on the slim, blue velvet couch. An odd choice in texture, but it was damn comfortable.

“I saw that you have a few vintage albums lying around your place – Jazz. There is a Jazz bar around here, and if you're interested, I would love to go with you! This weekend is a themed night.”

His youthful exuberance was a little infectious – she smiled despite herself.

‘I’m pretty sure I know the place he means. I love that bar.’

An old speakeasy themed place, they played lots of Bunny Berigan and Ella Fitzgerald. Both were more WW2, but it was good music so she wasn't gonna hit it for the years. You would think an Old Fashioned would be easy to make, but she’d had plenty bad ones and the best she'd ever had came from Jazzman’s. All of their cocktails were delicious, even the on the fly bespoke.

She could do this. The first ‘big deal’ type of date.

“Sure OB. I already have an outfit in mind.”

She laid an arm across the back of the couch, and OB laid his hand on hers from his lace at the other end of the couch. Sylvie was surprised to find that she didn't mind it.

Chapter Text

She was wrong.

The drinks were perfect, the atmosphere electric. It was a themed night, so everyone was dressed for the Jazz age. Taking a taxi to the bar meant there was no worry of drunk driving on their part since it was also the way home for the evening. There was no work in the morning, so Sylvie intended to truly make a night of it and make sure she reached a Gatsby-ian level of enjoyment, sans the awkward exes.

Her vintage beaded bag – sixties, but still appropriate looking – swung heavily from her elbow with the weight of her phone and wallet as she also swung to a Charleston with OB, the only dance of the time she knew. Old films like Metropolis and The Jazz Singer were projected against the stage wall, and big band sounds were projected from speakers hidden in art deco lighting sconces with enthusiasm.

The mood quickly soured as they came to a stop with the end of the latest tune, and she saw a certain someone by the corner of the mirrored bar.

Slowly, Loki's face had appeared on Odinson Realty signs on her way to work. It was getting harder and harder to pretend they had never happened, his existence a constant press on her mind. Sylvie tried to go on as usual. It would help if he wasn't on one of the the biggest fucking billboards into town.

Sporting a Brilliantine pomade Valentino look, his curls were pulling a sharp contrast to his well trimmed sideburns. Jay Gatsby wished he could look as suave. Loki’s expression was dour as he studied his reflection in the bar mirror, the amber hues of the backlit alcohol throwing a tiger-eye haze across his crisp white shirt.

Her first impulsive was to go and check up on him.

‘We were together for nearly two years. It would be ok for me to check on him, right? That shouldn’t be too messy of me…’

Sylvie had already started walking that way before she realized something, but mercifully before she got too close to him through the throng of people. He perked up as a companion laid a hand on his shoulder. Her long, beautiful hair complimented the simple dress she wore, which also accentuated her vast assets.

‘Who is that? I don't remember her….’

Sylvie stood stock still, the speakeasy swirling around her as she suddenly heard OB whisper in her ear that he was going to take advantage of the break and get them something else to drink. He seemed to have assumed that was what she intended to do, giving her a wide grin as he simultaneously waved a hand to signal for her not to worry about drinks.

As he did so, she saw Loki’s eyes slide over to hers, recognition registering on his face as he saw OB’s hand slide across her arm as he left. A simple touch, but claiming.

His jaw tensed as he took in her appearance, from her own carefully styled hair to the shoes he had bought her for her last birthday with him, and something indiscernible crossed his face as he turned his attention away from her and back to the buxom brunette near him. Sylvie didn't blame him for seeming upset. Clearly, they had both planned to have a good night tonight, but for her that wasn't going to happen anymore.

Regret, sadness, and a myriad of other equally devastating thoughts pulled across her crumbling façade of an expression as she tried to make her way to the restroom. Thankfully other people in the crowd had decided to take advantage of the break for a drink rather than to use the restroom. No line meant she had an easy way into a semi-private place to compose herself. Swiftly Sylvie shut herself into the admittedly nice stall for a bar bathroom and pinched her expression, trying not to sob like a child from the weight of her own decisions.

The graffiti on the walls blurred around the edges of her vision as it was distorted by her welling tears, and Sylvie was very grateful that she had decided to splurge on waterproof mascara. It ranged from the innocuous “Don’t eat the chicken here babe” to “Don’t let that motherfucker make you cry!” She couldn’t help but snort at the last one – what was she supposed to do if she knew she was the motherfucker?

Running was the easy part, but surviving was the hardest. Any decision could be like that, really. Running from one thing could protect you from another, but it could have also been much better for you – there was no way to know until it was done and that was one of the worst parts of life.

Business success was one thing, but could it really mean anything if she wasn't sharing the enjoyment with someone she really loved? Plenty of people lived alone and got by just fine. People told her frequently how happy she and OB seemed together and how lucky she was to be with someone who truly loved her. Acting was something Sylvie had learned the hard way – putting on just enough of a face to get along with the people she had to without messing up her good relationships. That had worked well, until it didn't. Pretending only gets you so far, but if she could convince herself surely Sylvie could convince everyone else in her life!

An embarrassing sound of pure exhaustion tried to squeak past her pursed lips, and she did her best to stifle it like everything else.

Clearly she wasn't stifling her sounds enough.

“Hey, are you ok? I was heading this way and saw that you seem pretty upset. Need me to go punch that guy you were talking to?” A gentle voice came through the door, but also a very no-nonsense one. Sylvie had no doubt she would actually do it. A rush led grasp of toilet tissue and a quick dab to her eyes confirmed her makeup was still in place, sans what little came off with the test. She stuffed it into the disposal can shared by the stall next to hers and trying to pull herself together, she stood up and unlocked the door.

“I’m ok, just saw an old flame is all…” She lifted her gaze to see that the brunette from before was the one asking after her. Of course, how could this night get any worse?

“That seems to be going around.” She quipped lightly, pushing her glasses up a little more onto her nose. Her gaze was gentle, and for once Sylvie didn’t feel judged. “The guy I’m out with saw one too. Sure you're ok?”

“Yup, probably just going to call it a night. Running late.” It was closer to 10, but the woman had the good grace not to mention it. Sylvie took a moment to glance in the mirror,  checking her appearance over again now that she had the opportunity. The woman watched her quietly with arms crossed, as though trying to see the truth of her statement and seemed to come to a decision on it as she nodded.

“Alright. Feel free to grab me if you change your mind about him on your way out. You're too cute tonight to let some guy ruin the evening for you.” The woman titled her head, giving her a small smile that seemed genuine enough.

Sylvie laughed bitterly.

“Thanks for the offer. Have a good night.” The woman stepped further aside so she could leave the room. She felt the woman's gaze follow her out and could have sworn she heard the light tapping of a finger on the sink.

Unfortunately for her, Loki had gone to stand near the restroom to wait for his companion. Further interference from the universe meant that she found this out by literally bumping into him.

The heat of the bar was starting to melt his pomade despite the weak air conditioning, and it was starting to stain his collar. Sylvie stared at it, trying to save herself the trouble of looking at his face, but she did it anyway.

He caught her shoulder as she stumbled into him, quickly releasing her upon realizing who he had caught.

“Are you ok?” He stepped back, putting some distance between them.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Sorry…”

OB caught up to her right then to save her, having guessed correctly that she might still be near the restroom. “Still up for a Sazerac?”

He displayed his usual eagerness, the dull lighting accenting the shadows of his collar and face a little more than normal, somehow making him look older than he was. They were only a year apart, but sometimes Sylvie envied the difference of a year’s more of experience in life.

Loki looked curiously at OB, but said nothing from his place against the wall. Taking it as an opportunity to leave, he wandered back to the bar.

“Actually, I’ll take that Last Word.” Sylvie replied, downing it quickly, competency be damned. The night was ruined anyway. “Let's go home.”

 “If you're sure….” They sidled their way through the crowd, OB leaving the glasses on a designated table near the far end of the bar.

Darcy Lewis stepped easily across the swarm of people in the room and back to the sulking Loki.

“You know, you could try and message her again. Or asking someone out. That expression probably won't help though.”

Loki had hired Darcy to help him keep track of paperwork at the recommendation of his brother's wife. After the ordeal with Sylvie, he couldn’t bring himself to focus like he used to. Seeing her tonight and talking to her - however briefly - did nothing to make it easier.

A few months after the breakup, he’d decided he needed a distraction from overthinking things he couldn’t change and hating himself for not being honest. Despite every cell in him screaming otherwise, Loki went back to his father's realty company.

His father wasted no time in grinding in his opinion of Sylvie and how foolish Loki had been to try to stand up for her. Obviously she had been a poor choice since she'd run off as soon as there was any trouble, Odin claimed. Never mind that he didn't know shit about her, and now he never would. Odin always reveled in the chance to debase him and his business dealings, so the Sylvie situation was all gravy to him.

The months of brown nosing and debasement of himself had apparently done something for him, because he started to appear on the adverts as much as Thor had. He would never think his father considered him an equal – Odin didn't think that about anyone, much less Loki or Thor. It just meant there was another piece on the board for Odin to exert his highly complicated plots through. For Loki, being known for helping people as a smaller solo realtor meant the adjustment to the same kind of viciousness that had always been expected of him was not an easy one, and he hated himself for it.

Loki had to explain to Darcy why he suddenly looked so frustrated when they'd been having a friendly conversation moments before they saw Sylvie go to the restroom. Darcy had surreptitiously leaned around to see the source, both of them catching OB’s touch on Sylvie's arm. Neither of them knew him, but it didn't mean that they were together. Darcy had heard him whine enough about Sylvie that she could guess at her identity.

“I’m just saying bossman. Either you ask her again or you keep sulking after her, but you’ve gotta pick one. She seemed to be pretty surprised to see you.” She loudly sipped from the Sidecar she'd ordered before deciding to check on the visibly upset Sylvie. Darcy wasn't the type to not help a girl out. Especially a cute one.

It was a good thing Loki was over the night.

“Darcy, have I ever told you how annoying you are?”

“Yeah, but you love me. That's why we're buddies!”

“I’m your boss.”

“And?”

Chapter Text

Loki was still ruminating over his options as he and Darcy make their way back to the office. He had two options: he could just move on, or he could try to talk to her again. Neither choice seemed particularly favorable, and frankly seeing her with the other guy was doing nothing for his ego.

In the few moments that Loki had seen the man Sylvie went to their bar with, it occurred to Loki that they might be dating and that he seemed nice enough if he was willing to wait with a sweating drink for her. Resisting the drive to give into his nervous urges and run his fingers through his pomade coated hair, he realized that going to wait for Darcy made more sense than nervous drinking.

As he leaned against the wall, he passed the time by thinking about his friend and assistant.

Asking her if she wanted to go with him was simple enough - he didn't want to drink alone and she wanted to drink that night anyway. Thor and Jane had not so gently pushed him into hanging out with her more, saying they would get along better than he might think. Loki wasn't too sure of that, but they did at least have a similar sense of humor. Loki wasn't exactly happy about his brother and sister-in-law playing matchmaker for him, but he could begrudgingly admit that sitting at home in the dark wasn’t much better.

The pomade he’d used was not doing him any favors since the bar had warmed up that night from the dancers on the floor. He’d clearly used too much – it had started an uncomfortably slow crawl down his neck, and he might have to toss this shirt. The styling wasn't necessary for the night, but Loki thought it would be a little fun to do his hair in a 20’s form for the event. He knew how, so why not? Dressing up was part of the fun.

Darcy hadn't gone all out like he had, but even he could admit that Darcy looked nice tonight. She had a kind of effortless beauty that came from not being worried about anyone else's opinion but her own. Subtle most of the time, but very eye catching when she decided that she wanted to accentuate her features. This was actually one of those nights – she had a little more eye makeup than usual, the winged liner complimenting the frame of her glasses as the slinky dress she wore complimented her reserved heels.

“Wear something you could run in”, she had quipped when she entered his car at the office, a good middle ground between their two homes.

Seeing Sylvie with someone else had made him frustrated, irrationally so. She'd left him, and she was well within her rights to see someone else. He knew that, but it still stung. Holding her again, even though it had been as the result of an accident, hurt.

Darcy had done him the courtesy of checking on Sylvie even though he hadn't asked her to when Sylvie had retreated to the restroom, visibly upset. She’d never even met Sylvie; she just saw the way he looked at her and had made an educated guess.

To Darcy’s credit, she had said nothing to him about seeing him catch Sylvie before she fell, nor said it would have been the appropriate time to make a pass like his brother would have hazarded before he met his wife. If anything, she had given him a pitying look as Sylvie left, which was even worse.

Heading to Loki's car, he and Darcy started the ride back to the Odinson Realty offices. Rather than chat with her, Loki found himself continuing to analyze the night's events.

The guy Sylvie was with didn't seem that bad. He'd even waited for her with a drink outside the restroom. It left him with one conclusion – Sylvie had gotten upset because she'd seen him.

They both liked that bar, but he didn't want to risk making her miss out on her favorite place to drink on the off chance that they might run into each other again. He didn't want anyone else, but clearly she had moved on if she was with another guy. It was his favorite bar too, but waiting around for a glimpse of her like a lost soul hoping to find any coin for Charon was too close to pathetic.

A tight strain pulled on his heart at the thought.

“Maybe you're right.” he says randomly out of the silence of the car.

“Usually am boss. What about this time?” Her long nails clicked rapidly against the screen of her phone as she played some mindless game, vaguely listening to him as she completed another level.

“About seeing someone new. It's a little sad for me to still be pining – it’s been a while since we broke up, and I’m not really the same person now that I’m working with my family again…” He lets the sentence trail off as he makes the last turn.

The clicking stopped momentarily to be replaced by the ding of the turn signal, and he heard her shifting around in her seat.

“You definitely fucked up on not being honest….”

She put a hand up to keep him quiet as she continued her game. She was the queen of multitasking – somehow Darcy managed to maintain her full work schedule and a few things on the side to supplement her income. Loki wasn't going to ask what they were, but he suspected them to be research based clerical stints.

“I know you're a good guy, and you had to eat dirt to live comfortably. Sometimes life works out that way. Just have to make a mud pie in the meantime until you can jump out again.”

“The fuck does that mean Darcy?” Her turns of phrase were confusing but had her particular charm most of the time.

“Make the best of it! Two of the biggest employers out there happen to be Amazon and Walmart, and they aren't exactly paragons of virtue. People have to make money somehow.” Now Loki really didn't want to know about the side stuff. He would be unsurprised to find that she did something for the government – she was a political science major.

Pulling to a stop in the lot by her car, Loki turned to face her.

“I appreciate the vote of confidence.” Were the words that came out of his mouth, but his expression refused to comply. Darcy was amused, tucking her phone away into her purse and double checking the floorboard to make sure she hadn't dropped an earring or something.

 “Your old fart of a dad won't live forever Loki. You're my boss, not him, so I feel comfortable telling you that he’s a dick.”  That got a solid laugh out of him. “Put yourself out there and try again. Worst thing that could happen is you get rejected right? You won't lose anything. See you Monday.”

The door shut smoothly as she stepped out, leaving him alone, again. She had a way of doing that – seamlessly moving from one place to the next as needed, and if someone had wanted blackmail on the Odinsons she would be the one to gather it. Darcy was no mild mannered yes-man, but she was loyal and for that he was grateful. Why else would she have humored him by hanging out past work hours? She could’ve gone anywhere; there was no need to go with him.

Loki had done something to garner her good graces – though he couldn’t imagine what - and frankly crossing Darcy seemed like one of the most ignorant things a person could do. It was nice to have someone willing to talk to him aside from his family.

-

Loki continued his analysis of Darcy Lewis over the monotonous drive home. She was attractive, nice to him at least, and had no problem being honest with him. They'd worked together for a while and knew each other before she started working with him – a plus on the not being a creepy boss side.

When Loki had initially started work for Odinson Realty, Darcy had been an interim secretary for the company proper. Jane and Thor’s relationship was just beginning, and over the years Jane had done her friend Darcy a solid and tried to convince Thor to get Darcy hired on full time. Obviously it had worked, though the quality of Darcy’s efforts on the job had meant that there was little needed in the way of convincing. Darcy would have likely stabbed someone for suggesting she hadn’t earned her job, a d Loki would support her in it. Businesses just often make the mistake of overlooking solid workers in favor of favors owed, so it was the extra little push of Jane’s reminder that had solidified it.

Their systems had run fine before – Odin’s wealth had made that perfectly clear – but Darcy adding her own filing system had certainly made things more manageable, especially since she had let the shift to less physical file management

Organization was something Loki needed in his life; his lackadaisical approach to his self care in sore need of focus.

Trudging up the stairs to his modest flat after finding his designated parking spot was yet again occupied by a stranger's car, he tossed his keys onto the credenza with a little more force than necessary.

Off came the sweaty, stained shirt as he went in his living room. Unlike the night, the shirt was salvageable at least. It had been one of Sylvie’s favorites, he realized as he inspected the stain. The oil mix had slowly penetrated the weave of the fabric, growing over the night like the realization that he needed to do something different.

Was he ready to see anyone else? Loki wasn't sure that he could put himself completely into a relationship, but he could certainly compartmentalize. He was good at that. Hanging onto the past certainly wasn't doing him any favors. The stain was set, and he couldn't remove it, so he needed to start over.

Loki’s apartment felt much smaller now that Sylvie hadn't been there in a while. It wasn't ostentatious by any means, just a simple one bedroom flat, managing to comply within the crush of limited space around New York. It was a place that had previously been lit up with jests before, and now it just felt tense and dark in addition to cramped. Darcy and the others were right, then. He just needed to try again with someone else…

Leaving the memories behind would be a good start, so the shirt got thrown in the trash. Better not to look at it right now, or ever again.

He pulled out his phone to send what would likely be a stupid text, before heading to the bathroom to wash was was left of the pomade and the night’s emotions out. The reply he got from the text would prove the intelligence of it, whether it be positive or negative.

Sylvie wasn't having a much better time.

OB took her home and got her settled before heading back to his own place, and her small apartment felt more constricting than cozy. Her shoes were too tight after standing in them most of the night, and she knew it was the drinks but the pull of the fabric of her dress around her felt more like a sleeve than a slip.

The press of the walls only made her think of watching terrible old movies with Loki on the tiny loveseat he jokingly refused to let her throw out because it was too damn comfortable. They barely fit on it, and she said it was only a loveseat because you might as well be a couple if you were unlucky enough to be squished on it with someone else. Any old film, classic or not, and they would run their own riff track of it. Old horror movies were the favorite choice for that – Hammer Horror especially. The sets were always interesting, even if the writing tended to be a little choppy.

The books on the shelves were still a mix of his favorites and hers, back when they had traded recommendations every month. The split was nearly half and half, usually because they would kidnap books from each other if they took a liking to them. Admittedly, she tried to spend as little time in this space as possible. The ghosts were too loud.

‘Is Loki feeling the same as me right now? Even if he was, I can't really blame anyone but myself.’

Loneliness was the landmass, and once again regret was the river that ran though it.

Her impulsiveness had really cut her with the back half of the blade this time, as if it were missing a quillon. The more she tried to hang onto it, the more it hurt.

It was time to try and let go – OB was a decent guy. If he tried to move things further, Sylvie decided she would take his offer. She could do much worse.

Pulling out her phone, she sent what would likely be a stupid text.

If Sylvie was lucky, she wouldn't dream about Loki tonight, but when had luck ever favored her?

Once she had finished getting ready for bed, she looked at all of the books on her shelf and couldn't bear to look at them. One by one, she turned the spines to face the wall, their contents hidden from her the way they should have been to begin with.

‘I know it's silly, but I can't bear to see the titles and be reminded of him right now. I should donate them all.’ With that plan in mind, Sylvie decided that she would gather them up and separate them out. If she could get the courage, maybe she could drop Loki’s books off with the office secretary or something. As much as she couldn't bear to look at them, she also couldn't bear to throw them away. Her books she could donate, but not his. That wouldn't be fair to Loki, and she had hurt him enough.

Sighing heavily, she shoved the newly filled box of his books into a corner and went to lie down.

-

True to form, Sylvie did dream about him. Of the look on his face, of the tremor in his voice when he tried to argue with her. Of her own fear of rejection, of the stupid need to sting before she herself was stung.

If he had loved her, he’d been afraid to say, and she would never know the truth of his feelings, but Sylvie had also been afraid.

Nearly two years together, and they had both tip toed around it, while she still felt the safest she ever had. That should have been her biggest sign really – that she somehow implicitly trusted him to be around her even when she slept, but she had been so paranoid about the very same idea being true. She could sleep around him and not worry that her home would be emptied of the few things she owned and had squirreled from place to place where she laid her head at night.

Too good to be true, she’d thought, and it was a self-fulfilling end.

She had the memories, but they hurt just as much as not having any good memories. Knowing just how badly she had managed to mangle this, even though it seemed she and Loki had both having similar doubts. The texts he had sent her proved that, right? The very same ones that she had deleted in a panic, the ones that had made her face the truth of her fears. Loki could never want her now, not after that.

Sylvie hadn’t always felt the need to push others away so she could protect herself. The long stream of her foster parents left her feeling weightless more often than not as she grew, her attempts at being the perfect addition to those families diminishing wih each success one.

Throwing herself into work as an adult meant she didn't have time to focus on how alone she felt, the endless drive of work, eat, sleep, work, eat, sleep filling the time even if it didn't fill her days with anything but monotony.

Then Loki came into her life, soaking wet from the rain with that tear in his coat, and she found herself wanting to make this poor elongated, drowned rat of a man smile. She saw something in him that reminded her of herself – the same tired eyes, the same feeling of purposelessness.

She’d shelled the difference for the coffee out herself, but it was worth it to get him to laugh.

Slicking back his wet hair, he took the coffee gladly and she ended up wasting her meal break talking to the handsome stranger who would become her partner. They had much more in common than she would have thought.

He was actually afraid to tell her what he really did, who he really was, how the decision to pull away from a sure thing to try and make his own way was stupid by anyone else’s measure of success, but that he wanted to prove himself a capable man. Eventually though he did admit to her that motiviation, and the next time he stopped by her store he brought her something instead. Just a simple thing, a candy she had admitted to liking. (How the fuck did he find Razzles anyway?)

She took the chance to get to know him, and Loki had been more than happy to get to know her, proven by his attention to even that small detail.

Silly jokes, cringe inducing puns and the best hugs burned in her reflective periphery as she struggled to pulled out of her dreamed reminiscence.

Waking with a start, the flames continued to eat away at her as she decided she could not stay in this apartment any longer. She needed something new, something fresh.

It was three a.m., but Sylvie messaged OB.

|Would you like to move in together?|

Chapter Text

Loki had an easier time than he thought leaving the old apartment behind.

He picked a high-rise type building near the center of the city – a flat ostentatious in price, simple in furnishing and grand in view, if you enjoyed the steel and glass jungle. It was the exact opposite of everything he had been used to since attempting to strike out on his own, and that was exactly what he wanted.

Big tech needed sites for home offices in New York, and those corporate people needed lavish places to stay while they jetted around and gambled other people's money from stocks. Hotels were one thing, but this was more like one of many AirBnB setups for rich assholes. For Odinson Realty, it was a win-win.

Thankfully for him this place was part of one of those sales agreements, which meant that so long as he played by his father's rules, he had a far more reasonable amount to pay in rent than other tenants. As always, if he managed to make Odin money through recommendations and mutual acquaintances everything would run smoothly. Piss him off, and he would be out on his ass again same as always. The idea of love was very mutable when it was beneficial to his father – the only kind, actually.

‘Same as it ever was’, or in terms of the building ‘take the highway, high-park and come up and see me’ as he could quote from Talking Heads lyrics. ‘Don’t you worry ‘bout me…’  Or he would quote, if he really had anyone but Darcy who was willing to come and see him. Had been willing to come and see him.

Not for the first time, Loki thought seriously about what this would have been like if his mother were still alive. Would she have liked Sylvie?

He wanted to believe so.

Before Sylvie, the last time he had truly felt loved and appreciated was before his mother died – even on her deathbed, she was fussing over him. It was just the way she was, and so when Loki met Sylvie and saw the barest inkling of that again, he had to try very hard not to leap at that chance - to not fall prey to something he had tried so hard to find in so many poorer relationships.

Absently, Loki scratched at something-or-other stuck to the wide glass panel that made its existence as a substitute for a wall - all on its own in the vast open views of things it would never comprehend and marked out just as quickly. The speck still existed at least, even if it had been removed. Could he say the same about himself, shuffled back into the fold as if he were something to be absorbed?

Odin Borson’s health had taken a deteriorating turn, likely due to the pure hatred he exuded for nearly everyone he met. His standards and expectations were high, and very few people met them, especially his sons. There were such unrealistic standards that Loki didn't believe even Odin met them - perfection and perfection alone. The man’s own shortcomings were non-existent, nothing to be considered a thing he could ever be bothered to fail at. The concept alone was staggering, and Loki was very sure that quite a lot of money was spent to make it look that way.

The largest deals required what buyers considered ‘a sure thing’, despite the fact that such a thing did not and could never exist. For Borson’s employees, stress levels and risks were high, millions of dollars being exchanged nearly every day through some form or another, fast and ever mutating. If it translated to something that kept the owner up at night, the gilded sheen of the untouchable covered it all like glitter coated shit. Sure it looked nice, but how rotten was it beneath?

Thor’s wife, Jane the astrophysicist had just barely squeezed past the ridiculous watermarks in Odin’s pool of talent with her very high-level grant from a diverted branch of S.H.I.E.L.D, in some top-secret military application. Something about satellite stability was all she’d say – likely all she was allowed to say - and he honestly couldn’t bring himself to care. Loki tended to only listen as much as was necessary when it came to things that didn't concern him nowadays.

How those two got together, Loki would never understand. His brother’s laissez-faire attitude about life had somehow gotten him into this woman’s orbit, which was all the better for him. Perhaps the contrary nature of her atmospheric work could pull him closer to Earth.

Returning his thoughts to himself as he gave up on eradicating the minor annoyances present on the glass pane, Loki ruminated on how Darcy Lewis had accepted his random text those few months ago with ease.

|You’re right Darcy. I should move on.|

|Yup.|

|Would you like to go out again tomorrow?|

|Sure Loki, though you may want to work on your timing. 😉 |

They’d had a casual arrangement between them ever since. More of a friends with benefits situation than a relationship - they'd yet to go past any kind of making out, as they both knew he was still hung up on Sylvie. Darcy expected nothing of him, and he was more than happy to give it. Still, he couldn’t help but feel that she wanted more from the whole situationship at this point.

Darcy was understanding, and often said she was just happy she’d finally got to kiss him. Apparently, Darcy had a crush on him for a few years. He felt bad for - as he saw it, and as was closer to the truth - using her as he tried to move on but she didn't begrudge him for it. She reminded him often that she was an adult and could make her own decisions, though he still couldn’t help feeling skeevy for it.

Loki did want to do better by her. She was a good woman, and didn't deserve his or anyone else's hang ups.

Darcy had actually tased Thor when he got too drunk at a bar once, when he had tried to make an unsophisticated move on Jane years before they were officially together. That alone had automatically put her in his esteem. Years later they all realized Thor was the same guy she had bragged about tasing for Jane, much to his amusement. Thor, of course, didn't remember who had done it. The voltage must have been pretty high to get through his thick skull. Darcy Lewis did not suffer fools, and yet Loki couldn’t deny he may as well have been playing her for one.

Yesterday, Loki took her out for a decent date and brought her to his new place. It had gone very well, and he was actually able to forget for a few hours about everything he had tried to shove down deep into the pit of willful ignorance he dug for himself. This morning, she stood in front of this very same, very expensive wall that for all the view it provided gave him no further clarity into himself. Loki wouldn't deny that she was beautiful, but she wasn't Sylvie. It seemed like all he was good for was ruining things; his very presence a detriment to those around him.

||Fingers trailed through her hair as he leaned down to rest his head on her shoulder, the little raise of her shoulders in response giving him the impression that she had grinned at his playfulness. Still, she continued to face the window as she enjoyed the view.

“What do you think?”

“I think there are better things behind me.” Darcy spun in his arm to kiss him, hands on the collar of his suit, before touching the knot of his tie.

“Darcy,” he kissed down her neck, “would you be ok with going further tonight?”

Pulling away slightly, she looked at him intensely, seeing his flushed face and wide eyes.

“Are you sure? I’m ok with just this. You don't owe me anything.”

“You deserve more, and I’ve made you wait long enough. I’d be a fool not to care.”

“Fool you are but far be it from me to deny you.”

His hands slid down her back, tentatively cupping her ass. She keened, pressing tighter against him. Loki's body reacted for him, pressing against the foreign feeling of another person eager to touch him.

Darcy kissed his throat, hands on his belt.

“If you still have any reservations Loki, now would be a good time to voice them.”

Her voiced trembled, the same as he did. He pushed down the sour feeling and tried to commit himself to the person in front of him and not the memory.

“Please.” He heard himself say, but he wasn't sure who he was saying it to.||

Loki would be lying if he didn’t say he couldn't help but think of Sylvie at first, but Darcy’s enthusiasm helped distract him from the past, at least for a little while. For being something he apparently excelled at, he always failed to fool himself.

She didn't judge him for his emotional state afterwards. Thank fuck for that.

“I meant it, I don't ever want you to feel like you owe me something. I appreciate that you're trying, but you can't keep doing this to yourself.” she whispered to him even as he laid beside her. His face was turned away; still lying on his stomach as if it would let him hide from himself and what they’d done.

He laid a hand on her arm, feeling embarrassed.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, Loki. I think it would be a good idea for us to just go back to being coworkers.”

He breathed heavily through his nose. “I think you're right. Thank you, Darcy, for putting up with me.”

“I love you Loki, and I think I have for a long time. I don’t want to see you hurting.” She hesitated before hugging him tightly, kissing him on the cheek before gathering her things and heading to the door. “We shouldn’t do this to each other anymore.”

“I’ll see you Monday boss.” She called to him, as an afterthought just before the door clicked shut.

He struggled to keep himself composed when he heard the waver in her voice. Burrowing deeper into the sheets, wrapping himself in them to hide, all he felt was a hatred for himself. It seemed like the only thing he was good for was hurting people.

The next day’s paper was delivered to him like usual. It was surprising that physical papers even existed anymore, but if the tabloids could sell… There was something different about holding the news in his hands that seemed to make the events more tangible than reading them on his phone. In the announcements section, he found one he did never expected to see anytime soon:

Sylvie Lushton and Olan Bouros (OB to his friends and family) are happy to announce their engagement, with the wedding date set for…..

He stiffly laid the paper down, not wanting to finish the rest. It laid slightly tented against the table even as he did so, defying him in the smallest way it could – the disturbing line of text lay across the slight peak where it rose from the surface beneath it.

She was too good to not have a relationship, but even still he could not help the hurt he felt at knowing she had moved on. Had it been as serious for her as it was for him? Did she think the same things as she stared at the ceiling at night? Did she struggle to sleep at all?

He didn’t and couldn’t know.

Even though he knew it would be hard for he and Darcy to see each other that Monday, he could not delay coming back to work. They were attending another mindless networking event and had business connections to make. His position as one of the eponymous Odinsons meant that he had to show his face no matter what name he chose to go by.

Unfortunately, TVA Restaurants were a prominent partner. They purchased heavily through his father's company, meaning it was nearly inevitable that he deal with them. The company Sylvie worked for, had tried to work her way up through… She was now in charge of the whole state, not merely districts.

Had it really been this long? How many months had gone by since they’d broken up before seeing Sylvie at the bar? Time was an ephemeral blur to him.

Restaurants were now built based on her recommendations, and the locations were based in no small part on her own grievances of the prior system. People were eager to work with the person known to consistently provide the highest customer satisfaction ratings in TVA history.

TVA would have been a fool not to utilize her experience with both people and product. Her unmitigated expertise in working from the bottom up provided her with a unique perspective and fresh ideas for keeping things running smoothly, to the point of enchanting partners and encouraging crew to be their best. Consistent, fair pay meant happy and dedicated employees. Relatively realistic choices for said employees for things like insurance and actually scheduling people full time to be able to make use of said insurance was a no brainer.

He knew this, because he was unfortunately on the team that worked to sell the latest lot to the company.

Loki had never doubted she was capable of reaching that position within her company, and yet he also wished that anyone but him would be the one to help with this settlement. She wasn’t buying, but as a newer advisor she would still be brought in to give her opinions on how and where the company should invest.

Sylvie’s word would carry weight, and he had to be in the room to talk to them all about finalizing this sale, and as his brother was on another project he had to do it alone. Mucking this up because he was 'in his feelings' would be an unforgivable sin to his father.

The actual talks went pretty smoothly, and everything went through as planned. Loki wasn’t sure how, because the part of his mind that would normally keep him sounding competent and erudite and simply blanked out. He could remember nothing of what he said, only that he tried his damndest not to look at Sylvie.

Loki could feel her gaze burning into him even as he just as fervently ignored it - he did his best to stay busy with paperwork during the meeting, answering queries at appropriate times. If anyone noticed that the papers he shuffled were already in perfect order, they did not acknowledge it though he decided to play it off as a new quirk if anyone did.

His suit seemed to hang a little looser on his frame these days, a stark contrast to the tight fit he’d always worn when they’d been together. Once, he’d prided himself on his appearance, but that level of professionalism seemed to not matter as strongly now.

He took questions at the end of the meeting, yet he still found himself pulled aside for more afterwards. Business would never change - there was always a person to afraid to ask something in case it was obvious.

As she stared after him, one of the people she surely hoped to replace came to ask her stupid questions that had been addressed in the meeting. Her focus had been almost solely on Loki and even she knew the answer to the executive’s question. Sylvie put on her customer service mask and turned her attention to him. 

Afterwards, she awkwardly approached him, and so he tried to break the tension by greeting her quietly.

In a haze, he allowed himself the fantasy of thinking Sylvie was ready to tell him everything – that she still loved him, that she wanted to beg his forgiveness, to say fuck everything and go wherever he wanted – but he merely tried to refocus on her upcoming wedding.

“I saw the announcement in the paper. Congratulations, I’m happy for you.” He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. She smiled back politely, a pinch in her face that he thought he may have once recognized.

“Thank you. Any news on your end?” She appeared to attempt an air of aloofness, but in a delirious way Loki thought she seemed anxious to truly know.

“No, unfortunately. Focusing on my career.” He shuffled self-consciously, deciding not to go into how things had gone with Darcy. It wouldn't do either of them any good to bring it up. She was getting married, why would she want to know that he still cared about her or that he was still a fuck up?

‘Right. That. Settling – such a concept. And it's my own fault, because I was afraid. I’ll never know if we would have made it together, because I could never trust her completely.’

“I saw through the paperwork when we started the purchase that you were back working for your father again. Are things… better at least?”

“No, I can't say that they are. He still hates my guts. I have a bigger place.”

“That’s… good.” To Loki, she clearly looked eager to escape, even though she had been the one to speak to him.

“Well, congrats again. Have a great evening Sylvie, you’ve earned it. I don't want to sound weird, but I’m so proud of you.” He cringed at his own words, wishing he hadn't said them. He meant it whole heartedly, because he had seen first-hand how hard she worked to earn her position. By the expression on her face, she knew he meant it too.

“You too, Loki.” Her upper hand rested lightly on her crossed arms, right where the stitches had been on his old coat.

‘Please don't go.’ He thought, even as he said otherwise.

As he walked away, he stopped for a second to look at her again. She had begun talking to another businessman, someone from TVA – her previously stiff posture wound down just a bit. Had talking to him really been such a strain? He made for the doors, shutting them quietly behind him. 

‘I can't do this anymore.’

His own thought tumbled around in his psyche, but he wasn't sure what it was referring to. Trying to move on, or trying to pretend that he could?

Loki had only recently moved into the high rise those scant few months before, before he had tried and failed to have a relationship with the beyond-understanding Darcy Lewis. Despite that, he found himself selling off the choice spot to some new tech mogul.

One benefit of being Odin’s son meant the sale of the location didn't appear too unusual in the vast amount of transactions they managed to make each quarter, even though he had been almost staying there for free. Sort of a fun little fuck you to his adoptive father, as he would be long gone before Odin ever noticed it had happened. The modest commission – compared to the cost - was still more than enough to get the fuck out of New York.

He didn't want to hurt Darcy anymore by being around or hurt himself by continuing to work closely with a company Sylvie was clearly even further on the upward trajectory with. The odds of him seeing her more often had increased exponentially through this one deal. Could he really face months, years, decades of seeing her while knowing they would never have a chance?

Loki didn’t trust himself to do that.

His mother had told him he was originally from Norway before she died – maybe it was time to reconnect with his homeland.

The appropriately named - concerning his name at least - New Asgard jumped out at him immediately as he searched idly for something far, far from here.

In a spur of the moment decision, Loki decided everything he owned of reasonable value would be quickly sold, and he could take the first feasible ticket away from this whole situation. Always expecting the tower of cards to fall had benefited him in this small way at least, as he had enough squirreled away to really be self sufficient if he lived as modestly as he had been used to.

Even if he couldn’t sell everything, he would leave it. They were just things after all, with too many memories in many of them.

Maybe things would be better in a place where the biggest thing he had to worry about was what was for dinner.

Chapter Text

Sylvie and OB had their wedding.

It was lovely but bland, which is to say every pretentious shit she had ever despised would have adored it. People can have their weddings how they like of course, but to Sylvie this was just not her. She would have preferred something simple - just her and a certain someone she had walked away from, disappearing off to who knows where with the only witnesses being them and whoever was lucky enough to sign their papers.

Instead, Sylvie stood in a dress she despised, overtly flowy but fitting in with the theme of decadence that a family she had no interest in becoming acquainted with cooed over, saying how lovely she looked; those same relatives effectively running the show as she did everything she could to acquiesce, to save face and be the person they wanted her to be. From all of these years of playing the part, her blind stumbling had come to what many would consider the inevitable end of a relationship gone well – marriage and a large wedding meant to show off more the state of finances of the family and to awe the guest than to really show any level of preference for the main focus.

It was a very elegiac, pessimistic view of what many considered to be the happiest day of their lives and yet Sylvie had no one to blame but herself. In a more maniacal way, the very things she had tried to avoid by believing she had done Loki a favor in leaving him the way she had led up to a similar situation, full of the same pitfalls she had feared to begin with. Money was not as plentiful in this family but that meant that the relatives she was gaining really wanted the chance to have a wonderful time and fill the day with a glamour of those well-to-do. This family actually liked the image she had projected of herself, so it was cruel of her to imagine otherwise.

A beautiful outdoor wedding to anyone else, the venue was filled with daisies and purple hyacinths. Those damned things were everywhere. OB thought it was romantic to use the first flowers he’d given her as their colors and as decor, but it made Sylvie uncomfortable. Sitting here, looking at the blatant representations of the lie she had allowed to ferment to such a degree - all in an effort to convince herself that she could move on and have a wonderful life without a part of her soul - was impossible to ignore. The cheerful shades conversely pushed the overwhelming feeling of anxiety further down her throat, lodging it harder against the weight of the lies.

OB’s relatives were nice enough to her and that almost made it worse.

They were congenial, honestly happy for them. When they suggested something may look better on her, she took them at their word. When they made suggestions for the menu, these were accepted as well, as Sylvie was more than happy to think as little about this as possible. In their eagerness to make her feel like on of them, the relatives effectively removed all of her concerns with finite details, rendering it a day OB thought was perfect and one that she viewed as though from a bridal magazine article.

His cousin Casey was surpassingly knowledgeable, offering up his photographic services for the day free of charge. Such a thing cost thousands on a normal wedding of this size, and despite her reticence the man was truly a professional. His interest in the more intricate workings of cameras had led to him enjoying the art of finding the perfect viewpoint, lighting up the field of vision with a well practiced eye. Sylvie had to admit, the pictures came out beautifully, yet again magazine worthy.

Overall, it felt more like a doll house play session than her actual wedding; nothing at all like she hoped for as a little girl. Being shuffled from place to place as a child certainly made her want her wedding to be with someone she loved, someone she chose. An event she would have had some level of control over.

She did have some control though.

Then had come the first moment she’d spent the day waiting for. The music played, and though one of her new relatives had offered to walk her down the aisle, Sylvie just decided that it would be better to face this alone.

‘I did choose this. I didn't have to say yes to OB.’

The past three years had been excruciating. She had the same thing cycle through her mind over and over; if it was annoying to her it would be annoying to anyone else.

‘Is Loki still seeing that girl?’ she thought as she watched the guests at her wedding from her place on the dais. They seemed to be having a wonderful time, and OB held her hand as gently as always as she forced a smile that matched his honest one, staring out at the rest of their guests when she chanced a look in his direction.

Loki stayed engrained in her mind, his weary smile when they last spoke ground into her memories.

The dreams didn't help either. Stupid things, like dreaming of laying on his chest and just listening to his heartbeat while he slept, his scent curling around her – shit she would never admit to anyone.

Sylvie believed her life felt like burying yourself in a hole on the beach, only the tide is coming and you can hear the slow, heavy churn of the waves. It would only be a matter of time before the ocean consumed her completely, the dark depths endless and silent. Even now, the waters were so close that the salt stung her eyes, and the gulls screeched in her memory as they waited for their chance to feed.

Her quest for TVA ownership had been easier than imagined for Sylvie, and the young Nathaniel was ousted from the line of succession. The elder Kang placed her firmly as COO (Chief Operating Officer), and the good faith COB (Chair of the Board). Her rise had been explosive, her opinion highly sought. Her dreams had been accomplished, as she was in talks to inherit the company over Nathaniel’s head. He’d performed so abysmally that he'd been given several hundred thousands and a not so polite ‘Get Fucked’ for his troubles.

It felt hollow. Everything she had strived for was hers. There was no reason to feel this way.

‘What do the kids call it these days? Simping. Maybe not kids anymore even, but young adults.’

Everything had built up inside her to the point that she felt blissfully numb, and yet as she stood in front of OB, listening to the words of the officiant, it wasn’t enough.

“Are you with me?” OB whispered with a smile. He looked at her like she was perfect, and to him maybe she was. She sure didn’t feel like it; didn’t deserve his faith in her.

“Of course.” She whispered back.

That night, Sylvie faked it as she always had.

OB wasn’t bad, really. It wasn’t his fault that she had to supply her mind with someone else. She could enjoy the moment, the feelings it gave her physically until they were at least satisfied that way. Their modus-operandi had always included protection – it wouldn’t do to break down her carefully planned career path. She was well within her rights to want that, and OB would never force her to do otherwise for his own enjoyment – he was a good man, and made sure she got pleasure out of it as well.

Tonight though, the physicality hadn’t been enough. Any plans she’d opted for in a marriage just didn’t sit right as of now.

Listening to OB breathe next to her, she felt weightless.

Closing her eyes, Sylvie slowly trailed her hands down to cradle her hips, the way Loki used to. Imagined his breath on her face, kisses on her neck...

Slow movements, tracing and cherishing every bit of skin he could reach with hot worship, lithe fingers slowly sliding to circle her clit, just avoiding actually touching it in favor of gathering the wetness accumulating between her legs. Finally, dipping into her warmth to press firmly against her to mimic his hips if he were fucking her. One hand gripped her hip tightly, near bruising as he forced himself to remain still within her.

Against her wishes, Sylvie moaned slightly at the thought and her hands stilled as she tilted her head to make sure OB was still asleep. Seeing that he was, she took a few deep gulping breaths before continuing.

He curled his fingers firmly towards her mound, gripping toward her pubic bone firmly as he pulled himself closer to her, and her to him. “Would you want anyone else?” He whispered, sounding desperate. “Only you, only you…” she would whisper, and finally Loki would move his fingers within, pistoning and gathering speed until right as she was near her peak, his tongue ran firmly against her clit, fingers pressing hard against the roof of her walls…

Arching desperately, no longer caring if she was caught, Sylvie’s back rose against the force of her imagined lover’s actions and she came hard, her release soaking her part of the bed in an uncomfortable way. Their previous actions had meant it wouldn’t be too different in the morning – no reason for him to ever suspect that she felt this way or had done this.  For his sake, the subject of her past love had never been brought up.

Even so, it took her a moment to realize where she was, and it left her feeling defeated.

Desperate for any level of satisfaction in her choices, Sylvie contacted Thor Odinson. If his life were better without her, maybe she could convince herself that she had made the right choice by pushing him away. They were on regular terms through business, so it would not seem out of sorts for her to call him out of the blue.

The image surrounding Odinson Realty had changed drastically after Odin Borson’s death, and Sylvie hoped the bastard had died painfully. Charitable works and even the now annual fundraiser for housing the homeless made her think much better of Thor.

Surreptitiously she thought, at their last meeting for new realty development for the branching companies lots in other states, Sylvie asked after Loki.

She had not expected that he would leave the country.

Thor ruminated, “The cutthroat nature of the business under Father was too much for him, I think. He had a bad breakup and just needed to get away, try something fresh.’ Something clinked in the background, and Sylvie thought it may be alcohol. When things got bad, it seemed to be the Odinson family vice of choice. “He didn’t even hear that Father died until after he landed. I tried to talk to him…’ Thor continued, but Sylvie wasn’t listening to him, still stuck on one thing.

“Where did he decide to go? Is he ok?” Sylvie had no right to ask, but she still needed to know.

“Norway, it’s where he is originally from... He was adopted, but surely you knew that.”

Sylvie’s nose twitched. She actually hadn’t known that, but it made a lot of sense. This was just another thing he had kept from her… Did he ever really trust her? She couldn’t blame him, because she had kept secrets from him too. Did he fear that she would judge him? See him as a hanger on like his father had? She never would have, but he must not have thought so.

Loki preferred quiet facts when selling, while Thor preferred a cult of personality type of amicability. The nature of him seemed forced to some, but Thor had always been more easy going. He tried very hard to avoid conflict and hide away his stress, which seemed dichotomous to his namesake and made it easy to understand why Loki had believed he would never speak against Odin. Something about trying to keep things together for Frigga… The siblings could not be more different in that respect. As the older brother, the was Thor explained the issue was that he was the only one at the time who seemed to really grasp how delicate the situation in the home had become.

Thor excused himself to wander on to his business associates for a few drinks to further celebrate the newest sale.

‘So that had been what the clinking was about. The figure head may be fine, but the ship continues to sail it seems.’

Sylvie couldn't help but be happy to let him go, but she was also terribly curious.

Chapter Text

The slog continued in much the same way – the mere three years felt endless. This had been a safe choice, a comfortable choice but Sylvie found herself feeling wholly unfulfilled.

It certainly wasn’t OB’s fault – he did everything right and yet she was still thinking about someone else. It wouldn’t be accurate to say that Sylvie didn’t care about OB at all. She did care, but Sylvie wouldn’t say that she loved him – not as much as he loved her.

Sylvie was well aware that this made her a terrible person, that it made her someone who used another person’s emotions and possibly their entire sense of reality as a comfort blanket.

Days at home were just as much an act as business meetings. OB gently brought up the idea of children at dinner. Sylvie imagined children with green eyes, not brown.

OB mentioned how nice it would be to go for a walk when the weather began to cool, and when they did so she found herself thinking of a lone cup untouched on the arm of a bench, left behind years ago.

Decisions she had made with all the delicacy of a full-sized hammer to ant brain surgery were ones that she simply had to live with, and the repercussions were bitter.

Still, she did her best to be a good wife; a good partner capable of giving her husband the emotional stability he should have - from what now amounted to a nearly six-year relationship - of marital spiritual exsanguination for her included in that time.

OB did well enough in tech for Stark that he now headed his own department. He had worked just as hard as she had, applying himself where possible and making sure he was seen by the appropriate entities so that he would be viewed as indispensable in his preferred realm of expertise. Though he was more into the engineering side of things where technological input was concerned, OB believed that it would never hurt to expand his field of knowledge in case he could apply those bits of resource into a different application than intended. In more layman’s terms, OB was skilled at thinking outside of the box. If anyone could one day work out time time ravel, Sylvie would not be surprised if that person were OB.

Their home was moderately sized for their income, but the large empty spaces felt tighter than her tiny apartment outside New York had ever been. She found herself wondering if another person felt the same and was starting to come to terms with the idea that she may be just a bit obsessed.

Honestly, the hardest part of being so well off now was accepting that comfortable didn’t always mean happy. Sylvie worked herself near to the bone to get where she was in her profession, and she had earned it on her own merit despite the claims of her detractors. After so many years of dreaming and building ice castles of the things she longed for, it sucked in an indescribable way that it felt hollow.

She couldn't even lose herself in the mindlessness of chores because OB had hired staff so she could relax. At some point in her life, the mindless monotony of persistent motion had become a comfort in itself.

‘Just get to the next moment, dn’t worry about the future, just go go go go go…..’

Sitting still really may have been the worst possible punishment for her – she had spent so much of her life in just constantly moving that the idea of non-motion seemed like it was being lazy. Every atom in her screamed to move, to do something, anything even though logically she knew that it was okay to relax, to just be at least in a form of physical relief - enough to merely exist in a moment without forcing her body beyond normal constraints.

She did feel guilty for not appreciating what she had with OB, but Sylvie knew it was built on her lying to herself.

She waffled through the days, trying to keep up the act and the illusion of a happy marriage.

One morning, she found a tabloid left behind by one of the weekly cleaners the night before.

Odinson youngest found hiding in Norway! Trouble for the family dynasty?

Stupid, ‘click bait’ headline – despite it being print - but she could not help but look. Did its job at least.

‘New Asgard’ it touted. Looked like a touristy place from the small photos spicing the article, though it did have an overlook extensively used to view Aurora Borealis lights during the proper times. During the off season for such vistas, it was more of a rural adjacent escape that enjoyed the extra cash from tourists for traditional drink and beautiful nature.

Realty there would be a good sales opportunity, she thought.

The article itself was mostly bullshit, as was the fare, but one image caught her eye. A stooped figure, clearly attempting to avoid the cameras. Sylvie couldn’t say that she blamed the person, because it was hard as hell to stay out of the eye of some kind of lens these days. There was always a camera running, always video rolling and the sound of one notification or another floating around in the cities. It must truly be inescapable if it had found this person as well.

Who was even to say that the headline was true?

Sylvie decided to call Thor and see if he had heard this latest bit of gossip. As someone who now ran one of the biggest conglomerates in the state, he had fended off his share of tabloid gossip and criticism. He tended not to pay attention to such things, what with the weight of all his new responsibilities at the death of Odin, but surely he could spare a few minutes to chat with a business partner.

From her place in the dining room, Sylvie could see her husband in the den, going through a few boxes. Writing had been a passion of his for a while, OB said once, and so Sylvie had encouraged him to give it a go.

Reticent at first to make the jump, he eventually conceded and had managed to score a publisher! Sylvie would never take credit for such a thing, but she was genuinely happy for him. It was hard to let go of dreams, and to see someone reach theirs when they caused no harm was always nice to see.

The cell rang for about as long as she had expected, given the hour. It was closer to nine in the evening, the sun long past its horizon and the deep dark of the bit of purchased seclusion outside seemed ominous even in its peace.

“Sylvie? What’s up, did I miss something last week?” A soft voice she knew to be Jane’s in the background let her know that the astrophysicist was heading to bed.

They did have a meeting the week before, and by this point Sylvie and Thor were long familiar with each other. She would even say they were hesitant friends, as close as coworkers could be. They didn’t work directly under the same group, but that was essentially their relationship.

“Yeah Thor, don’t worry about that. It was all settled then, and they’ve got the go ahead to begin the remodel on that spot. I actually wanted to ask you about something else.” Leaning against the corner of the table, Sylvie sighed heavily as the seconds ticked by on the other end. She rarely had a question for him, so even though Thor was good at what he did, she was sure that some small bit of him still used to the fear of his father was scrambling for an answer to some perceived slight before she could confront him with it. It was really sad.

“Yes? Go ahead.” His words were sure, but Sylvie knew he had to be worried, and the tiny pitch upward in his voice gave it away.

“Do you remember how you said that Loki moved away to Norway? Would you happen to know where that was to? I just saw the craziest article in a tabloid, claiming he was in New Asgard of all places.” Giving up on leaning against the table, her long overworked spine screeched at her for support. Conceding the loss, she slumped into a chair and aimed for the closest she could get to proper posture.

“Now that’s a question.” In the background, she could hear something dragged across the floor, followed by the sound of Thor falling heavily into it. “Let me start with this… I told you last time you asked about him that he was adopted, and that he was from Norway. Anyone he was related to is unfortunately long gone, but that was his hometown at one point.” More clinking, but this time it wouldn’t be in celebration. “I can’t speak for him, and wouldn’t presume to, but I like to think that maybe he felt a little closer to who he thought he might have been by going back there. When he found out he was adopted, he just never really… Felt like part of the family anymore, I don’t think.”

He sighed, struggling to articulate what he thought without assuming anything about his younger brother. He may have been adopted, but Sylvie knew Thor considered him his brother completely. “Why are you asking me? What could you possibly have to say to him?”

“I…” He had a point. Even if she could speak to him, what would she say? How could she possibly speak to him without ruining whatever life he had built for himself up there? “I have a different question for you.”

Thor sighed, likely scratching an ear – a tic of his that displayed his discomfort to those who knew it. “Go ahead.”

“Would he want to see me if I spoke to him?” She waited with every muscle tensed, ready to shove this whole thing back into the metaphorical box she had locked it into for so many years, to accept well enough if it meant he would be okay.

“I think you already know the answer to that Sylvie. This could potentially be the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, and that includes bribing Fandral to jump off of that garage.”

Sylvie couldn’t help it; she laughed at the mental image. He’d climbed up there on a dare, betting that without a doubt he could jump off the ten foot roof without hurting himself. The woodpile thought otherwise, and the broken ankle he’d received as a consolation prize had someone been blamed on Thor instead of the idiot who had jumped to begin with. Teenage invincibility delusion, really.

“I’d be in your debt Thor.”

“I think I’ll be in more than that if I’m wrong about this.”

As the steady stream of information came, Sylvie grabbed a pen and paper from a long-neglected junk drawer to begin writing down what she needed to forsake the life of comfort she had built - and become a part of - all on a stupid chance. That very chance could bring her everything she had dreamed of for the past miserable years, or she could implode three lives – and ruin the life of the person she cared about most, yet again.

Thor was right about one thing - he could not speak for Loki on this. Calling him was out of the question, as Thor let her know he only used the phone for his brother, to give him peace of mind. Any unknown numbers were filtered away and never checked. He’d chosen that small village for the remoteness as well as the family ties.

Better not to be drawn into the nonsense of everything around him, Loki had told Thor. The best she could hope for was to write him an email, and hope that he got it before she could regret the idea to send it. Thor promised to send him one of his own, and to at least explain what he’d done and that any message from her would not be a cruel joke. Showing up randomly would be outrageous, and so she had to wait.

They said their goodbyes, and Sylvie hung up the phone.

Closing her eyes momentarily and breathing deeply, Sylvie opened them and turned to look at her husband. Sitting quietly across from her in his usual seat in the den, he read his recently published sci-fi novel. He had said for years that he wanted to write some of his own, and now he held a publisher’s proof that he had done it. “Holding it in my hands really makes it feel more real, you know? Otherwise, it all just feels like a theory!” He had smiled so widely and been so rightly proud of himself.

Tucking away her emotions again, Sylvie went to sit in the den with him and share in his happiness even as she made plans to ruin it.

Chapter Text

For where it was, the cabin was pretty comfortable and reminded him of his old apartment more than a cabin - log fascia not withstanding. About 800 square feet, one bedroom, walk in closet… Perfect for trying to hide from everything in the world in a blanket fort. Sure, the couch was comfortable, but there was really something that hit top marks about having an existential crisis wrapped in your favorite blanket in the privacy of your closet. Cozy.

The past few months had been very difficult, even without the day-to-day reassurance of working for such a large company. Unable to handle the notion of in any way ceasing to constantly be working on something, any project whatsoever, Loki had taken up with the elderly woman next door to help her with anything she needed. She was someone to talk to, though Birgit did tend to press a little much about his current relationship status. She claimed to have a younger relation in need of a good guy like him, and each time he politely declined. Birgit was the type of elderly that maintained no nonsense and would call you a fucking idiot to your face even as she handed you baked goods. Other people would just use a sandwiched compliment, but she would feed you sandwiches and treats.

Her husband Björn had died a few years before and Birgit claimed he’d had the same sensibility. There was a huge stockpile of wood outside their cabin that he had maintained in existence, doing his best to keep his beloved wife stocked up for when he did eventually die. Birgit quoted him as saying “I won’t be around forever, so I may as well wall you in for the winters.”

It was a strange way to verbalize it, but Loki had no doubt they had been a very loving couple from the stories Birgit regaled him with. At one point, Loki would have been ecstatic to imagine such a relationship for his future. Now, he couldn’t see past the end of the tunnel - so boarding it up seemed the better option. When the snow drifts he’d metaphorically built around himself eventually melted, he knew the slow slide would push him past these feelings he’d barricaded himself behind. The press of it would eventually come out of the gaps between the barrier, straining old nails and weak boards until he had to face what poor decisions he’d made and there was no denying it. There was a little garden outside that he half heartedly tried to keep up, his nosy old neighbor more than happy to give tips to the handsome newcomer. She teased him about where a partner was for someone like him, but over the months she slowly stopped mentioning it to him. Loki was sure that at her age his arrival was a very exciting thing so he allowed her to indulge but would not complain when the queries slowly trickled away.

Loki was grateful for it, even though the absence of talk left him in a state of existential weightlessness. He became used to the silence, though it seemed louder than it used to.

Still, the idea of facing a future without her was more painful than accepting that inevitable fallout and the broken spiritual bones that came with it. Alcoholism, something that had been a semi-functioning crutch for the men in his family since his mother’s death came back to roost now, a heavy ominous carrion bird waiting to eat away at him from the inside, as literally as the feelings he was trying to erase attacked his mind.

The little household repairs – fixing a set of blinds, repairing a shelf stacked high with mementos, sealing a slight chill creeping through the very old logs of Brigit’s ancestral home – kept him busy for a while, and he would attempt to farm as he could before the winter came and limited him to stocks and whatever he was willing to make the drive to buy from a store.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t just buy what he needed, so much as it was just to keep his muscles aching to remind himself that no matter how awful he felt, he was still alive and that would have to be enough. One day, the pain would lessen enough to become manageable, and Loki would be able to move on. The grief of it, of knowing still that he was as much to blame for the situation as anyone else meant that he had to swallow any pride left to him and adjust his stance to going forward in a manner that prevented him from repeating the same decisions. Personal growth and all of that…

‘Of course everything important in life is hard. But if it stops hurting, will it mean that I stopped caring?’

Speaking of grief - as soon as he made landfall, Thor let him know Odin had died of a heart attack while railing at some poor peon. Loki was more distressed by it than he ever imagined he would be. Not because he missed Odin, but because he missed the person that Odin could have been, if he’d legitimately made an effort to be a true support to the people in his life. Knowing that it would never happen, that his father – because as much as he wanted to deny him, he did consider him his father – the love he had held for the man he believed him to be would never have any form of reconciliation. Loki knew he could have been better if he had cared enough to actually do so, but all Odin truly cared about was himself, and Frigga. To a lesser extent Thor, though if he ever held any love for Loki beyond forced familiarity, Loki would never have that conformation.  

The relationship between them had never felt like a true one since his biggest supporter had died all those years ago, and the illusion of a found family had come down with it. Frigga would have been disappointed in all of them for how the family had fallen apart after her death. Thor claimed Odin had been much kinder before the loss of their mother, something that Loki found very hard to believe. That level of pettiness was innate, even if certain connections tempered the severity. Like all small children, Loki had idolized his parents and wanted them to care for and be proud of him, even when he couldn’t understand the way they reacted to things he did. Whatever came to Thor easily, he had to strive twice as hard to do even as he excelled in other areas. He was skilled, but not in the ‘right way’ as he so often heard. Creativity was worthless in the face of pure hard numbers, walls of digits sliding across the veneer of every interaction, probabilities of potential losses and gains in the relationship with his adopted family and for every move he could make to advance in the company the family owned, it overwhelmed anything he had ever hoped to have for himself.

Imagining himself as a small child, still looking up to his father on a pedestal, even as that pedestal now held a coffin, stretched the sense of acceptance he longed for far above and away from him, unobtainable.

Loki was much younger than Thor when Frigga died, so all of the memories he had of Odin were of his bitterness after Frigga’s cancer diagnosis. He clung to the support of his adoptive mother that came even on her hardest days, the gentle smiles he felt guiltily for needing even as she suffered the worst pain of her life.

‘Did it make me cruel as Odin, to want and need that? For someone suffering in such a way to comfort me? I may have been a child, but she had to face the unknown of what lay ahead while also knowing she may never see any of us again... And then knowing that she wouldn’t.’

The pain on her face that she tried to mask made the awful hours as death inched closer to them feel more biting, the rasp of the lowering pendulum blade over the table scratching at the hairs of his head that at the time had managed to escape his carefully styled look as flyaways. Even his hair had felt that things were wrong, despite his attempts to tame something in life. The idea that even something as simple as his appearance could not be completely controlled felt like the cruelest sort of irony to Loki.

Unsurprisingly, nothing was left to Loki in the will. Thor however, did the appropriate thing and had given him an equal controlling share in the company and told him he could be a silent partner. He may not know his brother as well as he thought he did, but he did know that he just didn’t have it in him to continue working in a place where he’d never quite managed to cease being a shadow.

Loki was very satisfied with this – out of sight, out of mind – eagerly settled in to live his life of anonymity. The money trickled in from Thor due to the ownership agreement he’d set up with Odinson Realty, and while the older part of him would have violently reacted to a perceived pity agreement in terms of money, his current state was just grateful that he was no longer required to focus on anything.

Loki didn't think himself much of a drinker but he slowly accumulated a decent variety on the mantel of the fireplace. He knew it was stupid to have alcohol that close to a fireplace that was lit more often than not, but it was hard to care about.

Bourbon was the staple, but he also found himself gathering whisky and whiskey, which were only different from each other because of the place they were made. Ireland and the United States used whiskey but everyone else used whisky so the spelling at least gave you an idea of where it came from.

It got more complicated than that because all bourbon is technically whiskey but not all whiskey is bourbon. Whiskey can be any grain but bourbon is mostly corn. Then there's the different woods it's aged in. Confusing shit.

Good thing he had alcohol to drink.

Johnnie Walker may be considered shit to some, but blue or even red label did Loki just fine. Red burned more going down but at least it tasted decent. At this point, it wasn't really about the taste though. Spirits watered his mid life crisis, and he had intent to over water his growths, or lack thereof.

Pouring himself yet another glass, unsure of what it was since that hardly mattered anymore, he thought more on his life.

An unexpected result of Odin’s death was that the approval he'd wanted so badly no longer mattered and was permanently unattainable. It should have been freeing, letting Loki live his life as he pleased but all he felt was empty. His whole identity had been centered for so long around earning it, even when he had broken away and formed his own realty company to help those who would have been passed over by his father.

The aid programs that Odinson Realty now performed were actually Loki’s idea, and Thor had been more than happy to implement them much to his surprise. His brother seemed to have been just biding his time and had been no happier with Odin than he was. Thor remembered the person their father was before mother had gotten sick, so a part of him had hoped desperately that version of the man would return.

Loki couldn't blame Thor for that at least – loving people sometimes results in ignoring the absolute worst of them.

In the quiet moments like tonight, where Loki couldn’t distract himself with mindless errands, he found himself ruminating on his failed relationships. While he felt guilt over what had happened with Darcy, and to a lesser degree his ignorance in the relationships far before, his true regrets came from what happened with Sylvie even though that almost made the pain for Darcy worse.

The whole issue was that he could not let go, but hating himself was so much easier than hating her.

Sylvie had been so damn fun, working so hard for her dreams that it inspired him to push harder in his own goals. Those little apartments may as well have been palaces for all the enjoyment they'd had together. Lack of money meant nothing when they were a team, even though every other moment was consumed by it. Just being in each other's presence was enough to calm the doubt for a while. Wrapped in each other's arms…

Every moment with her felt like a gift, and it really was. Some kind of respite from the near constant strain of trying to be everything that everyone around him wanted, needed or demanded he would be. It has been breathtaking to merely be accepted, no strings attached.

Even when she'd rejected him at the restaurant, part of him knew that it was more of a reaction to Odin than to him, but for once his words had failed him and he couldn't be what she needed, what he actually wanted to be, which was her support.

Loki knew that she hated relying on anyone but herself. But if she had to rely on someone, why not...

It's always dangerous to define yourself solely by your relation to others, but Loki would willingly sling himself down that path even if it was a continual spiral down into the depths he currently was hitting. The Mariana Trench didn't have shit on how Odin had seen him, so with the bar so low it was easy to get caught up in mediocrity.

That little bit of happiness was worth all of this, or so he tried to convince himself. It was stupid, but Loki knew he would rather have a taste of happiness with her than to never know it at all. He felt pathetic for it but still craved it. It started bordering on unhealthy many would think, but it was better to be alone than to put his baggage on someone else's cart.

Sighing heavily, Loki quickly downed a few fingers of a random bourbon before sliding on his old coat with the terrible repair job and going to the overlook. If he couldn’t be close to Sylvie, at least he could be close to the memories.

Same as every night.

It was beautiful during the day, but at night there was just something special about the way the moon reflected off of the waters, lights off in the distance to either side of him and wide open before him. The water was a little choppy tonight, and the wind bit at him more than it had recently. If he stayed here as long as he planned to, he would get used to the cold. Right now though, it pierced sharply through the thinning coat he refused to let go of.

Loki tried to stay up as late as he could, because lately going to bed just meant dreaming of Sylvie and the fun they'd had. Being honest with her had been simple and easy, at least until telling her how he felt had sat on the edge of his lip. Like a wet cigarette, he just couldn't get the words started no matter how badly he wanted it. The fear of rejection was stuck solidly at his core just as it had always been.

How much time he had wasted attempting to fit the mold others made for him... There was no way he could start over with her. Sylvie was married, happy, finally as successful as she deserved to be. It was cruel to even think she would give that up for an old flame.

His plan for moving on wasn't much of a plan really – more two loosely connected ideas masquerading as a plan. Leave New York, find somewhere in the country reasonably remote. Simple but complicated in practice.

Shaking his head bitterly as the wind picked up, he headed back to the cabin to stew in the various brines he’d gathered. Pickling his liver was a lot easier to face than the dreams.

Of course, that was when he got the email, the notification pinging loudly in the absence of other similar sounds.

Chapter Text

“I want a divorce.” It echoed in the large room, pressing in on them.

OB turned from his book to look at her, surprisingly calm for the statement she had just made, yet still shocked.

‘Why wouldn’t he be, when for him this came out of nowhere?’

“Did I do something wrong?” His voice trembled, and Sylvie understood because to him it must have felt like everything was going well... He’d felt comfortable enough to bring up the idea of children, so he had to have felt some level of security inn their relationship.

“No, OB. You’ve been the perfect boyfriend and now husband, and I really mean it when I say that. I’m not you though. All of this time, I’ve loved someone else… I hoped that if I tried to move on, tried to forget him, then I would be able to eventually accept it but I’ve been kidding myself as much as I’ve been trying to kid you.

“I…..I’ve never stopped loving my ex. I’m the one who broke it off, and I regretted it. You were there, and you were so kind, so when you asked me to be with you…

Sylvie closed her eyes, breathed more harshly. She owed it to him to look him in the eye when she did this to him.

“I promise you that I never cheated on you OB. I just can't continue to lie to either of us. Everything that is yours is yours – I don't expect you to give me half of anything. I’ve made my own money and would never expect you to do anything more for me than you already have. If you need me to, I will leave tonight and get a hotel.

Sylvie let the words sit in the aether, uncomfortable with the slight buzzing sound of the electrical in her ears, the daylight style bulbs she had insisted on suddenly too bight and revealing. Her emotional ugliness was on full display, and just to hear anything else she found herself saying, “I’m sorry Olan.”

His eyes shone with the thin sheen of suppressed tears, but he still looked at her with the same amount of love he had always held for her.

“I know.”

“What?” Taken aback, she slumped into the armchair she had stood besides, the coffee table between them not nearly high enough of a barrier for what she felt she deserved.

“I know. You don’t just hide away after seeing a person for no reason. Something happened between you two, and looking back on it, the way we spent that night together should have been the first indicator. You were trying to forget something, someone. He looked at you the same way, but his friend that he was with stepping in to check on you really seemed like the act of someone trying to help a hurting friend. He couldn’t check himself, so he had to have sent her or she must have offered.

“I tried to let it go, but it really stuck in my mind. I kept turning it over, trying to look at it from different angles.” He set his book down, gesticulating his thoughts with his hands. Technical, steady – suited to delicate functions, though not so much to delicate situations. He continued, “Thought maybe, if I could just be what I thought you needed, that you might see that being with me wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Olan...” she started, trying to find the right response to lessen the hurt. He was right, on all accounts she was sure, even if she hadn’t known the woman who’d been with Loki that night. It made sense. She had seen the way she looked at Loki, and it was part of why she’d been so upset. The idea that he had moved on had hurt her, even though she was trying to do the same thing had been enough to throw her out of the carefully layered walls of sand she’d pulled around herself, the grains tumbling on a downward slope almost as quickly as she could try and shore them up.

“Thank you for being honest with me Sylvie. I appreciate you telling me, and for the time you did give me. Thank you for trying with me.” He laid he hands flat across his thighs, the slight slap echoing around the space even though he’d barely gone through with the motion. “I knew I probably had a long shot, with someone as interesting as you, but I am glad that I tried.”

OB sniffled loudly and Sylvie empathized with him, she really did. None of this was fair to him but the lying to herself and to him any longer was too much.

“Don’t worry about going somewhere else tonight. I’ll sleep in the guest room, ok?”

Dimly, Sylvie heard his statement. The guilt was aggrandizing because while she did feel bad for OB, she felt worse for the time she had wasted for both of them. Hesitating at first, because if it were her she would not be able to stomach being touched, Sylvie went over and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Olan, for understanding. But I can’t kick you out of your bed – I’ll take the guest room.

He gave her a sad smile, leaning into her and patting her hand before going to gather his things for a lonely night. He couldn’t erase the care he felt for her in only a few moments, any more than she could smother how she’d felt for Loki.

Sylvie grabbed the things she needed for her own night alone in the least awkward way she possibly could, which was hard found given the circumstances. She was glad he’d bought nicer sheets though - they could both use the extra comfort.

The too big room and vast space left her curling as small as she could make herself, down into the furthest corner of the bed as though her guilt were a tangible thing taking up every atom that did not make up herself. The bright white of the sheets felt too bright, the purity and expense of them not enough to hide the large dark stain that she felt herself to be. In this house, in now the lives of two men she cared for.

Sylvie did care for OB, and yet it hadn’t been enough to erase the stronger feelings she continued to carry. Turning and twisting throughout the few hour or so, the idea of comfort seemed more than she deserved.

It seemed like, inevitably, everyone she cared for ended up disappearing from her life, through external forces or merely the suggestion of those forces destroying whatever she had managed to build for herself at the time. Just the fear of tragedy left Sylvie with the impression that anything she cared for was transient, garnering enough of a taste of pleasure to the point that she longed for it before finding the bitterness within.

Now though, the force had only been Sylvie.

Olan had done nothing wrong, honestly. He was what any other person would want in a partner – kind, attentive, loving, considerate… His only sin was that he just wasn’t Loki.

Now, the sheets past her waist and the small knit camisole she wore to sleep in riding slightly up her stomach, Sylvie stared at the ceiling, hoping the other vast expanse of white would somehow give her answers that the tangled sheets and otherwise empty bed could not. The warmth of the blankets were suddenly too much, despite the air conditioning they had in this modern, very up to date home kept at a smooth 20C. The idea of keeping the temperature so low in even her or her ex’s tiny flats would have been abhorrent, far too great an expense.

It was a comfort she didn’t feel she deserved.

Her thoughts drifted back over the past three years of marriage – or sleeping with her husband, of the contraceptives used to try and prevent any unwanted pregnancies.

The implant type had made her feel horribly sick, the words that came to her so easily in her profession suddenly harder and harder to grasp. When she finally realized that this type of brain fog, of stunted speech, was a rare side effect of the type she had chosen, it terrified her. Despite to suggestion that it would pass, Sylvie knew she had been on the thing for at least a year, and it was getting worse, not better.

Finally she got it out, the large amount of bleeding for the removal of such a small implant – the size of a matchstick – disconcerting. At that point she had effectively had a nonstop period for two weeks, and the exhaustion that came as a result had been the final push to advocate for herself. Olan was more than supportive, saying that they would find another method to help her, convenience be damned. That had been her whole basis for choosing that one anyway – that she thought she wouldn’t have to worry about it.

‘Haha. And look how that turned out you dumb ass.’

The removal had been more painful than the insertion, as though the aide were pulling briar branches through her veins than taking out a two-inch long, thin rod.

That had been the end of considering hormone birth control – back to condoms it was. Obviously it wasn’t as enjoyable, and even though Sylvie often found her thoughts drifting to other times in the best of situations, the condoms weren’t to much a burden to bear.

Afraid to use cheaper brands, she and Olan decided to go with the more expansive, well known names to be lured into false reassurance. Even with normal birth control, the idea of one hundred percent efficacy was nonexistent. The name obviously had less to do with it than proper usage did, but just the same… One had broken on them recently, but Sylvie was sure that things were fine. She would have known, right? Olan was pretty sure it was fine, anyway.

Really, that event had been the last push she needed to speak with Olan about separation, aside from the article. Subjecting a child to being caught in a loveless marriage wasn’t a situation Sylvie wanted to create.

‘That’s enough ruminating for one night.’ Sylvie thought, suddenly hating the weight of the bedclothes atop her.

Kicking away the high-count, overly expensive sheets away from her to accept the cold of the room, Sylvie once again found herself dreaming of Loki.

——

They were in her little studio apartment, lying side by side in the too small murphy bed and the lights off, the not so distant churn of motors outside in the constant New York traffic lulling them to comfort like a chorus of cicadas in the open dales of the southern region of the country. The built-in shelves were packed to near overflowing with books of all lengths, his favorites and hers thrifted from various outlets.

A small collection of vinyl lay haphazardly stacked by the door to the building proper, slowly picked through and added to when Loki found something he thought she would like when he passed the old thrift shop closest to them both, that had probably clung to its location longer than either of them had been alive. He never mentioned it, but Sylvie always noticed it.

They were whispering to each other like they used to, just happy to be together since money was always tight. Going out to do what they were going to do anyway seemed silly, so why not skip the hassle and stay in? They could take turns visiting each other instead of paying for parking multiple times.

‘What will you do when you make it? When you get everything you ever wanted?’

Sylvie thought hard about this, scrunching her nose the way he loved. ‘Buy your company’ she grinned, laughing at his expression. It was a jest to pay him for his time as much as it was a threat to own his realty business.

He was beautiful like he always was, looking exactly the way he had when he first walked into the damn TVA owned McDonalds. Thankfully Sylvie couldn’t smell the fryer scent she knew clung to her during those rare nights together – that she had long grown nose blind to - but he held her close anyway and didn't seem to care in the slightest.

‘One cruel boss to another, how will I survive?’ He flung the back of his hand against his forehead dramatically, tilting away and peeking at her out of the corner of his eye.

Slapping the hand into his forehead, she swung a leg over him to straddle his side.

‘Take it back and I may have mercy on you, subject.’

‘Cruel princess, how could you treat your loyal subject so?’

'You're just as bad princeling. You drank the last cup of my favorite tea.’

He stiffened a little even as he grinned up at her as though he had hoped she wouldn't notice he had done it.

‘Your punishment has been decided’ she said haughtily with all the fanfare she could muster.

Quickly he tried to grab the bed frame to pull himself out from under her but it was already too late – mercilessly she went to tickle his sides and the curve of his collarbone until he heaved out cries for mercy.

‘Ok, ok. Be glad I like you so much Laufeyson.’

‘Be careful Sylvie, one day you might slip and say you love me!’ He laughed.

It wasn't very funny when she woke up crying.

——

Quitting TVA restaurants had been the fun part.

When Sylvie and Loki were first together, the initial goal had been to burn her way so fast to the top that she eventually owned it outright. Now that she had practically done that, the appeal of seeing it literally crumble without her was much more enticing.

Crumble it did. TVA literally begged her to stay and Sylvie reveled in the chance to look down at them and say no. It wasn't exactly the way she had imagined but still satisfying. Good strategizing meant she would be very comfortable anywhere she chose to move on to. Even so, the concept of not working at all was so foreign, so unimaginable that it was hard for her o ever imagine that she could sit still for long.

She would find something – she always did.

Getting out of the house she and OB owned took surprisingly little fanfare. None of the things here besides her clothing truly felt like hers anyway, and even if it did belong to her, the items only reminded her of years of acting. Sylvie did her best to make the divorce as smooth as possible for OB. Assets had always been separate due to her fierce independence on that point, so it really was more material things than financial.

OB still loved her, and was sad to see her go but accepted that they were never really compatible so much as comfortable.

The seamlessness of it all was actually very surprising, but that was an ouroboros for you – right back to the start.

Gathering essentials, Sylvie was sitting in a small flat similar to her first ready to while away her life. The email she had sent to Loki sat in the forefront of her mind, the quiet suggestion that they meet again itching to recieve a response.

Thor was astonished to hear that she had quit, just like that. From his perspective, Sylvie had one day just been announced to be leaving the company, and someone she approved of as capable would take her place if they accepted it. It was hard work, but she had made it look easy. The person who eventually stepped into her position ran like water from a full open faucet, and tried their best to make thing happen. Not bad, really.

Working so closely together, she had assumed she wouldn't hear from any member of Thor’s family ever again. A layman really had no reason to deal with massive real estate conglomerates…

Thankfully Thor had a little more sense for once.

Thor had actually contacted her.

|Sylvie, I know this is unprofessional but if you're serious about asking after Loki I have a request for you. |

|What would that be?|

|Would you be willing to go and check on him? I have his address but if it's too awkward I completely understand if I’m overstepping. I just hate seeing him hurting and he did mention you a lot. We are closer than we've been in a long time but I want him to be happy.|

Sylvie stared blankly at her phone. What the fuck brought this on? Loki talked about me?

Another set of hurried messages, with a significant drop of form:

|shit forget i said anything he’ll kill me for this|

|ahhhhh|

Sylvie practiced calming breathing techniques as the movers dealt with the last of her things. She knew she wanted to move to another place entirely, so why not a city in another country? It couldn’t make things any worse.

|Did he really? Good things?|

After a flurry of apparent frenzied typing, yet Thor must have thought better of it because she got back a single word:

|Yes|

What could she possibly say to that? It seemed a bit much to just show up out of the blue, especially when he hadn’t even answered her email. Several months had gone by but Sylvie couldn’t find it in herself to be annoyed with the gap in communication.

Why would he ever feel the need to respond to her at all? They had some good times, but it didn’t mean that he still had feelings of any kind for her.

|He never responded to my email Thor. Why would that ever be a good idea?|

|Maybe a call then? I know that you should really talk to him. I don’t expect this to be all Parent Trap, for you two to magically get back together, but I really think it would do him good to speak with you.|

For several minutes, Sylvie watched the typing dot image appear and disappear as he tried to work out what he should say next.

|Would you be ok with me giving him your number? I don’t know if you sent it when you emailed him|

|That would have been a little out of bounds, I think. It was a long shot to email him|

|Maybe, but he also takes a reallllly long time to answer emails. He may not have seen it at all. Send him a message, for me?|

Sylvie sighed heavily.

‘What could I possibly say to him? Surely he moved on a long time ago.’

Biting her lip, she shot one more message back.

|Fine, but I reserve the right to never speak to you again if he gets offended.|

Better to go with humor.

|Fair| she got back, just as quickly as he must have received the message.

|Could we meet to talk about this? I feel like I need a little more information.|

|Let me know when, and I’ll worry about the where Syl|

Sylvie hated that nickname, but she wasn’t about to push her luck. When she had a little more information, maybe she could speak to Loki again.

What a thing that would be…