[ there were some things he did that make it easier to cope. he did it with little lies here and there, changes in subject that seemed to flow easily, and others? others were stiffer and more obvious in his new youth, and it came with the space between who he was and what he is now. (it came in all arrogance, really.) ]
Can we?
[ stay. she's going to stay. at least for the duration of the movie, at least until she changed her mind about him. ]
I could go for a PG comedy.
[ something light and friendly, just slightly ironic that a person like him would ever choose to watch it. maybe the horror would fade away, but the burning guilt and self-loathing in the back of his mind would not. ]
Don't tell me that I've never heard of ordering in ice cream. Someone out there is brilliant.
[ Whipping out her phone, she hits for a speed-dial number and puts it to her ear. ]
I'm brilliant, because I'm apparently the only one who reads the back of the pizza menu.
[ A nod is given to the couch as she wanders by, passing his arm with a brief squeeze. Staying, yes. ]
Could you find a blanket for the movie? I don't want to get cold sitting still while — oh, hi! Can I get a large Meat Feast and tub of chocolate ice cream, please?
[ Holding the phone out as she mouths address because hell if she knows it. Yet. ]
[ he says absently, like there was something other than pizza on the pizza menu. there's something heavy in his voice that mistranslates between emotion and expression, but he shifts through it admirably. when she changes from speaking to him and into the phone, he waves his fingers in an ostentatious enough display that she has to look at him again before trailing up to the alcove to fetch a blanket. ]
[ Token laughter trickles out as she half-listens to him, eventually tapping off the call as she sinks onto the couch. Both hands rub over her face and comb back her hair as she internally shakes down, processing everything she's heard in a five-second-long marathon (which might last thirty years beneath the surface, because damn) that ends with a small smile waiting for him. As light as the conversation now is, the air feels thin like half the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. Hard to weigh anchor in.
Elbows on her knees, brown eyes tick over him from behind pink lenses, trying to map the shallows and hollows in him and knowing there are yet more lost subway tracks under what she misses. It's tiring, as is straining to find things to say besides truths that pile up on the tip of her tongue; no surprise to her when one trips out, level and calm because it's been a constant for a long time now. ]
You're important to me. You do know that, don't you?
[ All the movies and ice cream and fantastical escapades, they don't mean much minus that backbone. Not having had many friends in her life doesn't mean she likes losing them and Loki is worth keeping, flaws and all. ]
[ just like many of the things he tries to pawn off in the name of new starts, he's not going to be able to avoid the details. he's not sure he wants to, but he's also unsure if he can really trust himself with the outcome. there's layers of fear hidden beneath easy excuses, and he wonders if he's really come so far? or is he still a casualty of the nature that he had tried to escape? is he using it as an excuse?
if that was the case, how long until he was exposed as a different kind of fraud?
he shakes one of the knit blankets from his bed and tucks it under his arm. it's an olive green, bearing the design of a tree surrounded with a frame. some things about home he couldn't shake, and he could fill up his house with young adult fiction and video games, but certain remnants of Asgardia remained. he tosses it to her, and in a move against his better judgement (or at least what his better judgement is telling him), he flops next to her on the couch.
those words come, and he turns his head to look at her, trying not to look too caught off guard. because he was. ]
Look, Verity—[ hesitation. ]—I know I'm not the best friend. I'm pretty bad at it, actually. But you are my best friend. I don't know what it's worth to be Loki's friend, I actually don't ... remember much of anything like that ... but I want to try, because you're important to me too.
[ Catching the blanket, she spreads it out with a second glance of interest as the design unfolds. When the springs on the couch protest Loki's flopping, she looks over without unfurling her fingers from the tree design. Neither of them are accustomed to having someone around to say these sorts of things to, so she appreciates that he does (it helps to hear it). Her smile broadens in a way he couldn't have made it with jokes or tricks, the fond gratitude in a steady brown gaze settling in against the odds.
She flicks half the blanket over him, sinking back into the couch when he finishes talking. ]
You're a good person, Loki. [ The remote is tossed lightly onto his lap as she shrugs, trying to slough off some of the obvious emotion because wow, embarrassing. ] And you're a passable friend, too.
he was his own worst enemy in these situations, and the worst offender, the one that fostered his own doubts, was himself. Thor believed in him whole heartedly, and Asgardia was slowly beginning to come in turn. he had busied himself doing the dirty work that his mother would not, all under the pretense that if he got caught that, oh well, it's just Loki.
Verity was a lot like Thor in that respect. Kate, too. they all encouraged him in their own ways, and he wasn't sure if it was subtle self-sabotage or a way of keeping himself in line, but somewhere he had surrounded himself in these people. their tenacity and belief wouldn't allow him to follow his normal patterns.
a blessing and a curse.
his smile is small, if not a little bittersweet. ]
I'm not a good person, but I can believe passable friend.
[ he tugs the blanket a little, as if he's threatening to steal it entirely. he doesn't. ]
It's because you don't know if you're good and you still try to be that you are. When you — [ Hesitation steals her train of thought as she glances at him, a little chagrined. ] I know it makes you antsy to hear about stuff you haven't gone through, but it happened for me so bear with.
When you were different back home, when you were the ... sparkly, golden-boy version of you — all you ever spoke about was being good, which you were! Your intentions were of the highest order, you didn't speak a word of a lie and ...
[ Verity narrows her eyes critically. ]
That wasn't you by a long shot. I realized that after you sent us all away. [ Twisting around a little to dig her shoulder into the couch, she summarizes the weight of her outlook for him. It stops his imagination running riot, which is the important thing. ] Lying is bad, Loki, but if you use it to help yourself be better along with others, especially if you're honest at the end of it, I don't think it's an awful idea for you to distance yourself from it. Just be clever. I know you can be, nine times out of ten.
It's not like you take on the world with a hammer so lighten up a little on yourself, okay? That's coming from the talking polygraph.
[ It isn't carte blanche to lie, which he should know, just a understanding. She doesn't and won't hate him for who and what he is, only any poor choices he makes. ]
he didn't like hearing about futures that he couldn't change, especially when they came in the form of a story from someone else's mouth. but she requests in, and he just offers a little bit of a sigh in surrender. Verity he trusts, so he listens. there are rare occasions that Loki shows vulnerability. they had been more frequent lately, and he found that it came simultaneously with having friends. he couldn't have one and not the other.
Loki was comfortable with being Loki, but in the madness that was his own self-inflicted curse (or how much of it was) he occasionally found himself lost between his brain and his own desires. there's a blur between want and need, and Loki occupies that space between. everything is always a game, and he wants to win; the stakes are just higher this time. ]
I murdered an innocent boy, who coincidentally was myself. In my memories ... I've done ... [ there's a huff. ] Terrible things to be Loki. That Loki sacrificed a lot of other people to be Loki, and it's painted like pictures in my head. There were people who got hurt, and people who even died because of it. There was me, used as a weapon.
I'm a good for nothing. A thief and a liar.
[ he leans forward to wring his hands together. ]
Who knows? Maybe I can even use those lies to make things better. If it means people don't get hurt, then it's all the better.
[ He's like an amorphous creature trying to fit in a role he hasn't written, a character with a name and intent but no direction. All the veering around he does around the page can be as worrying as it is thrilling and clearly leaves it mark, has done over the years with murals of death and strife lashed across his long memory. ]
That's a lie. [ It needs firmly stating even as she covers his hands with her, giving as tight a squeeze as she can. ] You're not 'good for nothing'. Whatever happens, even if things are dealt with badly, people won't let you go through it alone. Being friends isn't about people-pleasing or always catching the other person, you have a responsibility to them to be okay.
quick to catch the lie that makes him swallow the irony that sits at the base of his throat. maybe he's become accustomed to it, tried to embrace it, being the "bad son," the troublemaker and the liar. he could use it, those were his abilities, it was made him Loki—right?
there's a long pause where he lets her words digest and he wonders just what it's like to be "okay." to be "okay" for someone else, and he's not sure he can find a comparison.
[ This is what it's like to have a real friend. Sympathy pains weigh heavily somewhere in her chest as she sits up on a knee and leans in to press a caring, fond kiss to his temple, sighing there as her own mouth dries out. Her hand over his squeezes again and pink hair mingles with black as she rests her forehead close by. ]
That just means you will be eventually. I promise that's the truth.
[ It's a little like trying to straddle being a sister and a living blanket as Verity settles in with a hug, something they don't particularly share but that it feels right to offer up now all the same. Company, in and of itself as she has learned, is usually more effective than words.
After five seconds or so, she amends in a mutter far less laced with gravitas, ] I'm not letting you go until this gets super awkward, brace yourself. Long haul.
[ This is what it's like to have a real friend who inspires you to be a better person. Yeah. He can do with knowing he's already done some good in the world. ]
[ maybe this is what it was like having a friend: vulnerable and uncomfortable. Verity's touching him, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. there's a hyperawareness of her beside him, her body heat and the small shifts in weight. he's never been used to people in close proximity. he keeps to himself, dignified enough to close of anyone who may think about reaching out for him. there's a disconnect between his warmth and charm, and few who bridge it.
it takes a moment for the tension to release and his body to relax. he doesn't know how to react or where to put his hands or what to think of this. he vouches for letting himself sink into the cushions, letting them swallow him. ]
It's been awkward for the last five seconds.
[ he comments in all good nature, even if his own tone falls uncharacteristically graceless. ]
How long do you plan on keeping me here?
[ because he could be some kind of hug prisoner. ]
[ Shaking with silent laughter, she slumps with a could-be serious huff. ]
The thing is, you see, I'm a New Yorker and you've somehow got me to voluntarily touch another person, so I'm already way out of my depth on principle. Biggest magical feat you've ever pulled off, no doubt about it.
[ A sad, sad shake of her head. The blanket on their laps is tugged up as Verity gets comfortable alongside his subsuming into the cushioning, not missing the way he sounds like he might be held together with scotch-tape and scaffolding instead of his usual flairs and graces. It's nice just being with him, knowing he could probably do godly backflips out of the nearest window if he really wanted to. ]
I'm thinking ... a whole month. Did you shower today? I really hope so.
[ demands of—Ymir's balls—hugs and showers were being made at once, and he's not entirely certain if he got the short or the long end of the stick. while he's unused to this kind of physical affection, his brain races around the concept of actually maybe kinda liking it. he had moments with Lydia, as well as with the Young Avengers, and occasionally it was easier. Thor would take him by the shoulder, and his mother would put feather light hands over his cheeks, but breeching that gap seemed like leaping over a great, bottomless chasm.
his voice goes flat at the prospect. ]
A month. [ he repeats before glancing down at her, but he doesn't make a move to remove himself. ] I did have a three legged race I wanted to win.
[ Her triumph shines in a gleeful smile, toning it down to a more manageable, respectable smugness that will likely live on throughout the ages from this moment forth. ]
You're the only one I'd enter a three-legged race with.
[ Sliding back into a slouch at his side, she uses his shoulder as a cushion for her cheek and tucks herself in with the blanket right up to her ears. She might have devolved into a tuft of pink hair over a pair of glasses, Actual Tribble Willis. With a satisfied hum, the most concentrated effort to pay attention to the television only causes her to feel more tired than ever after the demons unbottled today. What matters is Loki remains somewhat even-minded about the whole ordeal, as much as he can. As awful as the things are that he's admitted to, however unforgivable, she still manages to feel safe enough at his side to trust him like this and, more importantly, to want to. ]
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no subject
Can we?
[ stay. she's going to stay. at least for the duration of the movie, at least until she changed her mind about him. ]
I could go for a PG comedy.
[ something light and friendly, just slightly ironic that a person like him would ever choose to watch it. maybe the horror would fade away, but the burning guilt and self-loathing in the back of his mind would not. ]
Don't tell me that I've never heard of ordering in ice cream. Someone out there is brilliant.
no subject
I'm brilliant, because I'm apparently the only one who reads the back of the pizza menu.
[ A nod is given to the couch as she wanders by, passing his arm with a brief squeeze. Staying, yes. ]
Could you find a blanket for the movie? I don't want to get cold sitting still while — oh, hi! Can I get a large Meat Feast and tub of chocolate ice cream, please?
[ Holding the phone out as she mouths address because hell if she knows it. Yet. ]
no subject
[ he says absently, like there was something other than pizza on the pizza menu. there's something heavy in his voice that mistranslates between emotion and expression, but he shifts through it admirably. when she changes from speaking to him and into the phone, he waves his fingers in an ostentatious enough display that she has to look at him again before trailing up to the alcove to fetch a blanket. ]
no subject
Elbows on her knees, brown eyes tick over him from behind pink lenses, trying to map the shallows and hollows in him and knowing there are yet more lost subway tracks under what she misses. It's tiring, as is straining to find things to say besides truths that pile up on the tip of her tongue; no surprise to her when one trips out, level and calm because it's been a constant for a long time now. ]
You're important to me. You do know that, don't you?
[ All the movies and ice cream and fantastical escapades, they don't mean much minus that backbone. Not having had many friends in her life doesn't mean she likes losing them and Loki is worth keeping, flaws and all. ]
no subject
if that was the case, how long until he was exposed as a different kind of fraud?
he shakes one of the knit blankets from his bed and tucks it under his arm. it's an olive green, bearing the design of a tree surrounded with a frame. some things about home he couldn't shake, and he could fill up his house with young adult fiction and video games, but certain remnants of Asgardia remained. he tosses it to her, and in a move against his better judgement (or at least what his better judgement is telling him), he flops next to her on the couch.
those words come, and he turns his head to look at her, trying not to look too caught off guard. because he was. ]
Look, Verity—[ hesitation. ]—I know I'm not the best friend. I'm pretty bad at it, actually. But you are my best friend. I don't know what it's worth to be Loki's friend, I actually don't ... remember much of anything like that ... but I want to try, because you're important to me too.
no subject
She flicks half the blanket over him, sinking back into the couch when he finishes talking. ]
You're a good person, Loki. [ The remote is tossed lightly onto his lap as she shrugs, trying to slough off some of the obvious emotion because wow, embarrassing. ] And you're a passable friend, too.
[ Nudging him. ]
no subject
he was his own worst enemy in these situations, and the worst offender, the one that fostered his own doubts, was himself. Thor believed in him whole heartedly, and Asgardia was slowly beginning to come in turn. he had busied himself doing the dirty work that his mother would not, all under the pretense that if he got caught that, oh well, it's just Loki.
Verity was a lot like Thor in that respect. Kate, too. they all encouraged him in their own ways, and he wasn't sure if it was subtle self-sabotage or a way of keeping himself in line, but somewhere he had surrounded himself in these people. their tenacity and belief wouldn't allow him to follow his normal patterns.
a blessing and a curse.
his smile is small, if not a little bittersweet. ]
I'm not a good person, but I can believe passable friend.
[ he tugs the blanket a little, as if he's threatening to steal it entirely. he doesn't. ]
Thanks.
[ for believing in me more than I do. ]
no subject
It's because you don't know if you're good and you still try to be that you are. When you — [ Hesitation steals her train of thought as she glances at him, a little chagrined. ] I know it makes you antsy to hear about stuff you haven't gone through, but it happened for me so bear with.
When you were different back home, when you were the ... sparkly, golden-boy version of you — all you ever spoke about was being good, which you were! Your intentions were of the highest order, you didn't speak a word of a lie and ...
[ Verity narrows her eyes critically. ]
That wasn't you by a long shot. I realized that after you sent us all away. [ Twisting around a little to dig her shoulder into the couch, she summarizes the weight of her outlook for him. It stops his imagination running riot, which is the important thing. ] Lying is bad, Loki, but if you use it to help yourself be better along with others, especially if you're honest at the end of it, I don't think it's an awful idea for you to distance yourself from it. Just be clever. I know you can be, nine times out of ten.
It's not like you take on the world with a hammer so lighten up a little on yourself, okay? That's coming from the talking polygraph.
[ It isn't carte blanche to lie, which he should know, just a understanding. She doesn't and won't hate him for who and what he is, only any poor choices he makes. ]
no subject
he didn't like hearing about futures that he couldn't change, especially when they came in the form of a story from someone else's mouth. but she requests in, and he just offers a little bit of a sigh in surrender. Verity he trusts, so he listens. there are rare occasions that Loki shows vulnerability. they had been more frequent lately, and he found that it came simultaneously with having friends. he couldn't have one and not the other.
Loki was comfortable with being Loki, but in the madness that was his own self-inflicted curse (or how much of it was) he occasionally found himself lost between his brain and his own desires. there's a blur between want and need, and Loki occupies that space between. everything is always a game, and he wants to win; the stakes are just higher this time. ]
I murdered an innocent boy, who coincidentally was myself. In my memories ... I've done ... [ there's a huff. ] Terrible things to be Loki. That Loki sacrificed a lot of other people to be Loki, and it's painted like pictures in my head. There were people who got hurt, and people who even died because of it. There was me, used as a weapon.
I'm a good for nothing. A thief and a liar.
[ he leans forward to wring his hands together. ]
Who knows? Maybe I can even use those lies to make things better. If it means people don't get hurt, then it's all the better.
[ I'll take the arrow to the face every time. ]
no subject
That's a lie. [ It needs firmly stating even as she covers his hands with her, giving as tight a squeeze as she can. ] You're not 'good for nothing'. Whatever happens, even if things are dealt with badly, people won't let you go through it alone. Being friends isn't about people-pleasing or always catching the other person, you have a responsibility to them to be okay.
... I need you to be okay.
no subject
quick to catch the lie that makes him swallow the irony that sits at the base of his throat. maybe he's become accustomed to it, tried to embrace it, being the "bad son," the troublemaker and the liar. he could use it, those were his abilities, it was made him Loki—right?
there's a long pause where he lets her words digest and he wonders just what it's like to be "okay." to be "okay" for someone else, and he's not sure he can find a comparison.
from his voice, his mouth sounds dry. ]
What if I'm not okay?
no subject
That just means you will be eventually. I promise that's the truth.
[ It's a little like trying to straddle being a sister and a living blanket as Verity settles in with a hug, something they don't particularly share but that it feels right to offer up now all the same. Company, in and of itself as she has learned, is usually more effective than words.
After five seconds or so, she amends in a mutter far less laced with gravitas, ] I'm not letting you go until this gets super awkward, brace yourself. Long haul.
[ This is what it's like to have a real friend who inspires you to be a better person. Yeah. He can do with knowing he's already done some good in the world. ]
no subject
it takes a moment for the tension to release and his body to relax. he doesn't know how to react or where to put his hands or what to think of this. he vouches for letting himself sink into the cushions, letting them swallow him. ]
It's been awkward for the last five seconds.
[ he comments in all good nature, even if his own tone falls uncharacteristically graceless. ]
How long do you plan on keeping me here?
[ because he could be some kind of hug prisoner. ]
no subject
The thing is, you see, I'm a New Yorker and you've somehow got me to voluntarily touch another person, so I'm already way out of my depth on principle. Biggest magical feat you've ever pulled off, no doubt about it.
[ A sad, sad shake of her head. The blanket on their laps is tugged up as Verity gets comfortable alongside his subsuming into the cushioning, not missing the way he sounds like he might be held together with scotch-tape and scaffolding instead of his usual flairs and graces. It's nice just being with him, knowing he could probably do godly backflips out of the nearest window if he really wanted to. ]
I'm thinking ... a whole month. Did you shower today? I really hope so.
no subject
his voice goes flat at the prospect. ]
A month. [ he repeats before glancing down at her, but he doesn't make a move to remove himself. ] I did have a three legged race I wanted to win.
[ you win, Verity. ]
no subject
You're the only one I'd enter a three-legged race with.
[ Sliding back into a slouch at his side, she uses his shoulder as a cushion for her cheek and tucks herself in with the blanket right up to her ears. She might have devolved into a tuft of pink hair over a pair of glasses, Actual Tribble Willis. With a satisfied hum, the most concentrated effort to pay attention to the television only causes her to feel more tired than ever after the demons unbottled today. What matters is Loki remains somewhat even-minded about the whole ordeal, as much as he can. As awful as the things are that he's admitted to, however unforgivable, she still manages to feel safe enough at his side to trust him like this and, more importantly, to want to. ]