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Chapter Text

Well, that was a bust, Loki thinks as he turns on his side and curls up into a fetal position, rubbing his sore behind from his harsh landing. The worst part was that everything was going according to plan until Sif saw through them. That woman was always too smart for that bunch. He doesn’t want to think about his mother’s disappointed face upon hearing the news of his banishment. Really, it was his own fault for underestimating Sif’s intelligence and getting banished to the middle of nowhere by Odin himself. 

That brings him to his next question. Where was he? Loki scans his surroundings as he sits up in the large crater on the desert floor. There’s no one around for miles. He groans. Looks like I’m going to have to walk it. 

After what feels like hours, Loki spots a small town coming up ahead of him. He squints as he ponders the sign, his mind hazy after so long under the sun. He’s not generally the best with heat and he never knew why, yet another notable difference that sets him apart from his family and friends in Asgard. He focuses on the sign even harder. “Lamentis,” he reads aloud. 

The thing about small towns is that their community remains small and tight-knit. Loki definitely feels like an outsider right now. Feels just like home, he thinks bitterly. All eyes are on him, taking in his face, towering height and royal garb. With failure and humiliation fresh on his mind, Loki is eager to escape the attention, making a beeline for the first shop he sees, tucked away in a hidden alcove amidst the bustling town. 

The bell adorning the door chimes as he enters the store. The first thing he feels is relief as the cool air hits him, making him feel more at ease in his skin, so much so that he closes his eyes and takes a grounding breath. The first thing he smells is the comforting aroma of something roasted mixed with something else entirely. And the first thing he sees? The prettiest woman he’s ever laid his eyes on. He gulps, suddenly nervous. She has unruly blonde hair with brown roots and blue eyes, wears a pastel pink apron with the words ‘Enchantress Brews’ on it, white powder on her cheek, and a cheeky smile directed at him. He feels a heavy breath leave his lungs. “You looked like you were having a moment there,” she teases. 

Oh god, he feels himself getting warm again, overwhelmed with not knowing what to say. Silvertongue, my ass. “I–,” he doesn’t say much else as he finds himself falling backwards, light-headed. The last thing he sees before he hits the floor is the woman running towards him in panic.

“Please wake up, please wake up, please wake up.” The sweet voice from before is now frantic as it chants the same words over and over again, accompanied by a hand lightly slapping his cheek. He keeps his eyes closed as he comes to, groaning as his already sore behind gets sorer with his second fall. He’s still light-headed, but feeling much better with a soft cushion under him and a calming lavender scent wafting around him. “Oh thank God.”

He blinks his eyes open to the sight of the woman looking down at him, her face close to his and mirth in her eyes. Scanning his peripheral, Loki finds himself lying on the lap of the pretty stranger, her hands now combing through his hair as a form of comfort she’s offering him. He can feel his heart beat faster. “H– Hi,” he chokes out. How this woman has managed to render him speechless twice in one day, he doesn’t know. 

“You took quite the tumble there, stranger,” she chuckles, placing the back of her hand against his forehead, as if to test for something. “And you’re still a little warm. I think you had a heat stroke.” Loki grunts in acknowledgement, not knowing what a heat stroke is but finding the need to agree with anything she says. “Come on, let’s get you up. I’ll fix you something to eat – on the house.” With Herculean strength, the woman helps Loki off her lap and pulls him up to stand, leading him to one of the cosy booths closest to the counter. She’s tiny next to him, he notices. A full head shorter. 

“Oof,” he grunts as she pushes him down to sit on the comfortable seat and leans him against one of the plush pillows covering the bench. “I’m Sylvie, by the way,” she introduces herself. A beautiful name, he thinks. “I own the place.” 

Loki takes in the interior of the shop, now empty because of its late hour. The main thing he notices is that it’s lined with plants; plants on shelves, plants hanging from the ceiling, plants decorating the tables. The walls are lined with bricks of various hues of beige, complemented with frames after frames of black and white art pieces, creating a homely feel to an already open space. “I was just about to close for the day, but take all the time you need to rest,” she says. “I’m just going to get some coffee and pastries for you to nibble on.”

Now he feels bad. “I’m Loki from Asgard,” it comes out strangled. He clears his throat. “And you really don’t have to, I’ll be fine.” He tries to stand but ends up falling backwards, still a tad groggy. 

“It’s okay,” she shrugs, moving to the counter to prepare the items for him. “I wasn’t about to kick you out when you’re clearly having a shit day. You might as well stay and eat for a bit,” she says as if it’s nothing; as if it’s not the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for him. He feels his heart grow two sizes. 

“No one’s ever helped me out like that before, I appreciate it,” Loki says earnestly. 

“It’s really no trouble at all,” she gives him a kind smile. “Pay it forward and all, you know?” The thing is: He doesn’t know. No one back home’s ever done anything so selfless for him before. Besides Frigga, probably. He’s never really experienced the kindness of strangers. Or not having to betray someone to get a tactical advantage over them. Paying it forward – a foreign concept to him. “So… Asgard? What’s that? A country?” She asks, halting his thoughts. 

“I come from a realm far away from here,” he says truthfully. “We’re a people; a land of Gods, if you will.”

“Gods?” She says, right eyebrow raised as if appraising him. She clocks his outfit. “Are you fucking with me?”

“I’m not familiar with that concept, no.” 

“Are you pulling my leg?” She clarifies.

“No, why would I do that?” 

“Okay…” Sylvie jokes along with the peculiar, but handsome stranger. If he wants to do this, so can I, she thinks, not one to back down from banter. “So what are you the God of?” She crosses her arms and cocks her hip. 

Now this, he can have fun with. “Mischief.” He says with a charming grin. 

“Alright, Mr God of Mischief. Prove it,” she challenges, ready to call his bluff. 

Loki, now steady on his feet, moves from his place at the booth towards her while holding her gaze. She feels something tap her on her shoulder as a sound comes from behind her. “Okay.” She throws herself around to find Loki’s holographic duplicate staring right back at her. “Ah!” She screams out before aiming a punch for his face; the duplicate wavering as her fist goes right through it.

“Well, I’m glad you did that to him and not me,” he says, making his duplicate disappear with a simple flick of the wrist. 

“What the fuck?!” Sylvie’s eyes are nearly bulging out of her sockets now, shocked at what she’s just seen him do. “Wait– how’d you do that?” Her shock turns into intrigue as she takes in the man in front of her once again. 

“Magic,” Loki says simply.

“I need to sit down,” she declares as she carries the tray of food and drinks around the counter with shaky hands. “Follow me, I’ve got questions.” He nods and takes the tray off her, walking towards the booth with Sylvie in tow. They sit down across each other, an assortment of pastries in between them, and take sips of their drinks – iced matcha for her, iced coffee for him. Her stare is overpowering as if trying to burn a hole through Loki. She’s coping really well for someone who’s never encountered magic before though, Loki thinks as he picks up a rounded brown biscuit of sorts from the plate. 

“This is really good,” Loki moans as he bites into it. “What is it?” 

“You’ve never had a cookie before?” Sylvie says, bewildered. 

“Clearly not,” he responds. The cookie, he notes, is freshly baked and warm, chewy on the outside and gooey on the inside. He washes it down with a gulp of his iced coffee. “I like it,” he declares. “This too,” gesturing at the beverage he’s been sipping on, already feeling much better now that he has something in his system. 

“Thanks,” Sylvie says, still unsure of what to make of him. “I make all of the baked goods myself.” 

“You made this?!” Loki exclaims. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever had!” 

“It’s just a chocolate chip cookie,” Sylvie mutters shyly, feeling somewhat validated by her baking skills now that it’s not just Verity from down the block complimenting her on them. “And don’t go changing the subject!” Suddenly remembering what happened just moments ago. “What do you mean you’ve got magic?” 

“It means I’ve got magic.” Loki puts it promptly. “I told you.” He takes another bite. “I’m a God.” 

“Okay,” she mutters under her breath as if concluding that this is her life now – meeting Gods in cafes. “Okay,” she says again with conviction. “Show me something else,” eager to see more of his abilities come to light. “Please?” 

Without much persuasion, Loki conjures mini fireworks in his palm. The colourful lights dance happily across their skin, the glowy ambers reflecting prettily in Sylvie’s eyes. “That’s beautiful,” she says, entranced at the display before her. He smiles at her before swishing them away. 

“So you’re definitely a long way from home,” she laughs, feeling a little better now that Loki seems relatively harmless; fight or flight gone. After all, she’s a big girl. She can take care of herself, pocket knife always at the ready. “I would’ve commented the same thing even if you hadn’t told me. Your clothes are–” She drifts off before shaking her head as if remembering her manners. 

“Are what?” Loki looks down at his black, green and gold leather garb, affronted by her disapproval of his sense of style. “I’ll have you know this is Asgardian leather, made by only the best craftsmen in town.” 

“You look like you just walked out of Comic Con,” Sylvie giggles. 

“What is this Comic Con that you speak of?” Loki asks. 

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she replies. “You look fine, it’s just– a bit much for plain ol’ Lamentis. How’d you get here by the way?” 

“I was exiled by my father to… well, here,” Loki says, picking up an almond croissant this time and relishing in its taste. “Didn’t have much of a choice of where I landed.” 

“Exiled for what?”

“Dishonouring the family,” Loki shrugs. “The usual.”

“Mmm… daddy issues,” Sylvie concludes, nodding her head. “Gods – they’re just like us.” She teases. 

Loki chuckles. “Alright, enough about me. Tell me about yourself.” 

“There’s not much to it,” she starts, her life paling in comparison to the literal God who’s now taken to chomping on a croissant before her. “I was born and raised here, discovered my love for coffee and baking, pursued my passion by opening up this coffee shop, and voilà! Here I am.” She looks up at him. “It’s nothing fancy like being a God or anything, but I’m happy.” 

“I think that’s great,” Loki says. “What about your parents? Do they help you with your venture?” 

“No,” her eyes finally break their unspoken staring contest as they shift to the side of the booth. “Mum and Dad up and left long ago. Car accident,” elaborating no further. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. The shop’s sustained me for ages now. I have regulars who’ve helped raise and look out for me over the years, I’m content. There’s not much else I could ask for,” she says honestly. Loki can see the appeal. No family drama. No fighting for attention. No needing to prove yourself consistently to the people around you. Just a sense of belonging and people who care for you wanting the best for you. Perhaps it is time for a change of scenery. Perhaps a person like Sylvie is exactly who he’s destined to meet. 

“You seem like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders,” she says. “What’s on your mind, stranger?” 

“I want to stay here,” Loki says, resolute. 

“What? Earth?” 

“Yes, here,” he starts. “Lamentis, with you. I’d like to experience life the way you do.” 

“Don’t you want to go home?” She asks genuinely. Earth’s not the most ideal place for a God to lay low, especially not a dramatic one like him. 

“Not just yet,” Loki answers. “And even so, I doubt I’d be able to summon the Bifrost for anyone to take me home.” 

“Do you have any money?” 

“What’s money?”

“Okay, new plan,” Sylvie says. “If you really want to stay here, you’ll work for the shop and earn your keep. Just until you figure things out. God knows you’ll need all the help you can get in trying to fit in here.” 

“Sounds good,” Loki claps his hand in agreement, eager at the prospect of spending time with Sylvie. “You can be my Midgardian mentor, of sorts.” She makes them shake on it. 

“One more thing,” she says, hands busy clearing the table. “Where are you staying?”

Loki blinks, having forgotten he’s practically homeless now. “Uh…”

“Okay, new, new plan,” she replies. “You can stay with me until you find a place, I have a spare room upstairs. And in return, you can pay your dues by cleaning the house for me, on top of working for the cafe. How’s that sound?” 

They shake on it again. 

He helps her close up shop for the day and she takes him upstairs to help him get situated with his new living arrangement. Her flat is tiny in comparison to his quarters in Asgard alone, but he finds it charming. 

As he lies in bed that night, he thinks about the day he’s had; lucky to have found a companion in Sylvie, her kindness the light at the end of a very, very dark tunnel. He can’t lie to himself, he’s enamoured by her. By her beauty, her life and her personality. Everything that makes her, her. He closes his eyes and buries his nose in her sheets, already excited to spend more time with her. 

Loki, Sylvie soon realises, is a terrible barista, and an even worse baker. In the months since he started working at Enchantress Brews, he’s managed to burn coffee and his hand, spray frothed milk around the walls, mess up a simple cookie recipe by adding salt instead of sugar into the mix, switch off the oven instead of switch it on and drop a whole tray of brownies on the floor right after they’re done baking. She kicked him out of the kitchen soon after, relegating him to cashier duty because “you simply can’t fuck that up, Loki.” 

As ordered by Sylvie, Loki now finds himself more often dressed in a casual black t-shirt, denim jeans and sneakers, with an apron of the same fashion. “You have to look the part,” she says one night as she opens the door to his room and throws a hefty package full of clothing on his bed. “Wearing leather in this weather, are you mad?” Online shopping, he finds, has become a therapeutic activity he’s grown to appreciate. “This is a credit card, use it wisely,” Sylvie says as he hands him a piece of rectangular plastic that same night. But he digresses.

His favourite thing about cashier duty is that he gets to interact with Sylvie’s regulars; his silvertongue and inability to shut up – as Sylvie keeps reminding him – finally coming in handy as he charms the pants off of the women and men that come into the shop. One such patron is Mrs Ruga, a funny little Russian lady who has an affinity for vulgar rap music and never makes her attempts at matchmaking subtle. 

“You’re running out of time, young man,” she tells Loki when Sylvie’s busying herself in the kitchen. He can smell a fresh batch of cookies wafting in the air, already eager to sneak one. “That Sylvie girl is a catch and you’ve been working here a month! You need to ask her out before somebody else does,” she slaps his hand as he hands her back her change. “I know Don’s boy Brad already has his eye on her. So does that pretty girl Ravonna from 14E. And sweet little Jack from–” 

The worst part about it is that she’s right. Every day he finds himself clocking in and watching person after person flirt with Sylvie. She pays them no mind, however, chatting with them politely before expertly diverting their attention to the newly baked spread of pastries before them. And it’s not like he’s not interested! He so desperately wishes he could ask her out, but he can’t bear the possibility of her ever rejecting him. He’s come to treasure her friendship way too much for that. They curl up on the couch, talk about their day and binge-watch Grey’s Anatomy, for Odin’s sake! He can’t even stomach the chances of that never happening again. 

It doesn’t help that Sylvie makes it a point to look after him, often waking up early to bake him cookies the way he likes, bringing them up to his room along with a cup of coffee and waking him up gently with a little nudge to his shoulder. He’s grown to associate the smell of baked goods, caffeine and lavender with her; smells that now bring him comfort more than anything else. He can’t even remember why he ever wanted anything as menial as a throne or his father’s approval when he has her by his side. His new glorious purpose. God, his heart hurts. He’s never wanted anything so bad. He shakes his head before the thought can consume him.

“We’re just friends, Mrs Ruga,” Loki says, glad to have her in his life than not at all. “And even if I did have feelings for her, she’ll never return them. If she wants to court other people, I’m not going to stop her.”  

“You’re a silly, silly boy, Odinson,” Mrs Ruga tuts as she makes for her usual seat by the window. “I see the way that girl looks at you.” Loki’s heart skips a beat at that. A fantasy. Delusion. No, she wouldn’t want to be with me. Breaking out of his stupor, Loki busies his hands by making Mrs Ruga’s chamomile tea at exactly the temperature she likes it, then levitating half a scoop of sugar and dropping it into the pot. 

He first hears the telltale sign of Sylvie’s presence by her heavy footsteps, followed by the scent of her L'Artisan Parfumeur Bucoliques de Provence fragrance. “Hey,” she nudges him on the shoulder. “Was that Mrs Ruga?” 

“Yeah, she ordered the usual,” Loki replies. “I’m just about to serve it to her.” 

“No, let me,” Sylvie says, making to take the tray of baked goods and tea from Loki’s hands. “I haven’t seen her in a week,” she smiles up at him, eyes lighting up in mischief. 

“If you’re going to recommend her another preposterous rap song that she’s going to make me listen to the next time we see her, Sylvie, I swear to Odin–” 

“Relax,” Sylvie places a hand on his chest. “I just want to say hi,” she picks up the tray and makes her way to her favourite elderly regular. Before he can reply, another customer steps up to the counter, ready to make their order. 

“Hey Verity,” Loki greets the woman. “Take a seat, your usual’s coming right up.” 

“Thanks Loki,” she says as swipes her card on the terminal and Loki readies her order. As if feeling eyes on him, he looks up in the direction of Mrs Ruga’s usual spot and sees Sylvie looking at him. She quickly darts her eyes away once he catches her staring, a rosy blush now creeping up her neck and onto her delicate cheeks. Wonder what that’s about, Loki thinks.

Their day goes on much as normal after that; Loki and Sylvie a well-oiled machine now, working smoothly together since they’ve perfected their respective tasks over the past couple of months. “Hey, Loki?” Sylvie asks aloud, locking the doors to the empty cafe after closing. She approaches Loki by the booth where they had their first conversation.

“Yeah?” Loki stops his task of watering the plants as he turns and gives Sylvie his full attention. She’s right in front of him now, the height difference apparent again as she tilts her head up to look at him.

“When were you going to tell me you had feelings for me?” 

“O– Oh!” Loki blurts out, panicked. How did she– Mrs Ruga. “Listen, Sylvie. Mrs Ruga, she–” 

“She what?” Her voice is softer now as she’s looking at him with something akin to hope in her eyes. Could she possibly? 

Time to be brave. “She’s right,” Loki says, blowing out a shaky breath as he awaits Sylvie’s response. 

“You idiot!” Sylvie yells, smacking him hard on the arm. 

“Ow!” Loki’s hand immediately going up to rub at the wounded spot. 

“Do you know how many hints I gave you? I baked you your favourite cookies every morning! We share one blanket on the couch all the time! I even offered to give you a back rub the other night like–,” Sylvie throws her hands up now, frustrated. “I knew you were from another planet but Jesus! All this time I just thought you didn’t like me or something, but no! I had to find out from Mrs Ruga of all people! I honestly can’t believe– mmph!”

Loki muffles her rant as he claims her lips in a bruising kiss, one hand on her cheek, one on her lower back, pulling her in and pressing so closely as if he can’t bear to spend another minute apart from her. Sylvie gives it as good as she gets, throwing her arms around his neck and returning his kiss with fervour. His tongue darts out to lick at her lips and she opens her mouth in response, both desperate to deepen the kiss, with mutual sighs escaping their lips now that their feelings are reciprocated. The hand on her lower back wanders down her body and cups her ass, giving it a hard squeeze, earning a loud moan from Sylvie. 

“Fuck,” Loki groans, both hands now gripping her ass, lifting her to straddle him. Sylvie moans again, looking down at him with heavy-lidded eyes as her core grinds on his hardened dick. “Sylvie,” he moans, tongue running along her jaw, leaving endless open-mouthed kisses along it. “Sylvie, I love you,” he breathes out. 

“I love you too.” She captures his lips in a passionate kiss again. “Bedroom. Now,” she begs him breathlessly. Loki grunts. “I need you in me.” 

Loki’s never moved so fast in his life. 

Chapter Text

“Hey,” a groggy Sylvie greets him with a kiss as he makes them breakfast in the morning, frying up heaps of eggs and bacon in the tiny kitchen he now spends a lot of his time in. “Something smells good.” 

“Go sit down, darling,” he says with affection in his eyes. “I’ll be right out.” Sylvie smiles up at him and steals another kiss before waddling to her spot at the dining table, prepping it for the breakfast platter Loki’s about to serve up. 

Loki never thought his life would turn out this way. What used to be dreams about a throne turned into days filled with nothing but joy, comfort and laughter with his wife by his side, their child growing inside her. He turns around and chuckles to himself as he watches Sylvie get lost in her thoughts as she rubs her swollen belly, mindlessly having a one-sided conversation with their unborn daughter – something she’s taken to doing as of late without realising. I wouldn’t trade this life for anything else, he thinks as he plates their meals and makes his way towards the love of his life, already expecting her next move. 

“Mm,” Sylvie moans as she gobbles up the first piece of bacon on her plate, more possessive with her food than ever now that she’s eating for two. “Oh God, I love you. I love you. I love you,” she chants as she devours everything on her plate at Godspeed. 

“I love you too, darling,” Loki replies.

“I was actually talking to the bacon, but I love you too, hun,” Sylvie says, mouth full as she continues chewing with gusto. Loki merely laughs, already used to his wife’s antics and lack of grace. 

As someone who was groomed and trained from a young age to respect and practice proper etiquette, Loki has always found Sylvie’s feral nature endearing. He treasures the way she’s always felt comfortable enough to be herself around him, knowing not many get to see this side of her. Not even her oldest, most loyal regulars. The front she’s built shattered to the ground the moment she said “I love you” to Loki for the first time. 

Soon enough, Sylvie cleans her plate and reaches over to Loki’s to stab a piece of his bacon. He doesn’t even protest, just happy to see her satisfied with his cooking. He continues eating the rest of his meal and conveniently leaves another two pieces of bacon on the side for her to steal later on. “Thank you, honey,” she gives him a sloppy, greasy-filled kiss on the cheek as she stands up to clear their plates.

“None of that now,” Loki takes them off her hands and kisses her on his favourite spot on her forehead. “I’ve got this. Go get yourself ready for the day, darling.” 

“Ugh, you’re the best husband ever you know that?” Sylvie scrunches up her nose at him. “It’s annoying how good you are at this.” Loki laughs at the mock-annoyed look on her face and kisses the scrunch away before she leaves him to take a shower. 

“Anything for the woman I love,” he says as he heads to the sink to begin washing up. It’s true, though. Never in Loki’s life has he ever done anything for another person simply because he wanted to, but Sylvie managed to up and change all of that just by allowing him to love her. And soon, he’ll be doing it for the little one in her tummy that he’s already nicknamed ‘Hope’. 

A few hours later find the couple in different stages of boredom at their cafe. After all, it’s 4 pm on a Tuesday and the last of their customers have only just left to return to their jobs. Sylvie’s busy re-watering the plants around the shop while Loki prepares the next batch of cookies to be baked, already setting aside a special batch for Clarissa, their spunky neighbour with a clear obsession with Sabrina the Teenage Witch to enjoy at her usual booth after school. They both found a soft spot for her, knowing she struggles to make friends in class and has a rocky relationship with her parents. In a way, they’ve taken the girl in as their goddaughter, even going as far as to have her be the flower girl at their wedding just a year ago. 

“Oh! Don’t forget to get ice Mrs Ruga’s cake!” Sylvie turns around and yells in the direction of the kitchen. “Remember, she’s turning 80.” 

“Got it, darling,” Loki answers back, already making his way into their walk-in freezer to prep the piping bag with Sylvie’s signature homemade icing. 

The bell on the door chimes and Sylvie’s head snaps back to greet her next customers. Well, that’s familiar, she thinks as she observes a group of five oddly dressed individuals walk into their cafe. Four big burly men and a gorgeous woman, all decked out in what she can only assume is some sort of luxe armour. They look like Amazons! No, she corrects. Amazonian models. Not one to judge their extravagant outfits, Sylvie puts on her best customer service smile and acknowledges them. “Hi, welcome to Enchantress Brews! How can I help you?” 

“Hello!” A cheerful greeting comes from one of the men, his gruff voice loud against the soft lo-fi music playing in the shop. He’s tall, buff and blonde, she notices first. And good looking. All of them are. “I’m looking for a man.”

“Hmm,” Sylvie replies, exaggerating her movement as she pretends to look around the shop. “Well we don’t sell people here, I’m afraid,” she jokes. “Only coffee and pastries.” 

“Haha!” The man laughs, prompting the other men around him to do so as well. The woman stays silent, keen eyes trained on her. Sylvie shivers under her stare and cradles her bump, her smile unsure. “You’re funny, mortal!” He continues. “You see, I’m looking for my brother! It’s been a while since we’ve seen– Ah Loki! There you are!” Sylvie sees the man’s eyes shift to her husband behind her, suddenly putting two and two together.

“Oh, so you’re the famous Thor,” Sylvie addresses him pointedly, looking him up and down with new eyes. She senses Loki’s approach and feels him wrap a protective arm around her waist. She can practically feel Thor’s companions’ eyes observing them now.  

“I am!” Her brother-in-law says, also analysing their comfortable presence around each other. “Why, Loki! How’ve you been, my brother?” 

“You come here after three years of no-contact and that’s the first thing you have to say to me?” Loki says, incredulous. As if sensing the tension rising in the room, Thor’s companions stay silent. Sylvie simply folds her arms and stares Thor down, looking very much like a feral kitten compared to him due to her short stature; her glare cold enough to make his voice falter. The woman in his company simply looks impressed, one sharp eyebrow raised in amusement. The men, however, shuffle their feet, sheepish, and try to look anywhere other than her. 

“Father’s only just woken up from his slumber!” Thor rushes to explain, not liking the threatening look the mortal is giving him one bit. “No one knew where you were!” He looks pleadingly to Loki, eyes shifting to Sylvie from time to time. “We couldn’t get your coordinates because father blocked Heimdall from seeing where he banished you to! And–,” his voice trembles again as he takes a hesitant step back. “And– For Odin’s sake, can you get her to stop looking at me like that?!” 

Loki looks at his “friends” cowering before him (with the exception of Sif, of course, for she’s scared of nothing and no one), shifts his gaze down and chuckles at Sylvie’s stance. To any old stranger, Sylvie looks absolutely terrifying. A scowl paints her pretty face, her narrowed eyes shooting Thor a deathly glare, all while heavily pregnant and covered up in the most adorable paint-splattered overalls, her pink ‘Enchantress Brews’ apron donned over them. She looks ready to hunt for sport. 

In an attempt to calm her down, he places his hands on her shoulders and turns her to face him. “Honey, relax,” he says as he kisses away the frown between her eyebrows. “He won’t hurt me.” He places one hand on her lower back and cups her cheek with the other, bringing her in for a soft kiss. She lowers her guard immediately, trusting Loki to protect her and her daughter at all costs. 

“He already did, Loki,” she sighs against his mouth, worried eyes looking up to hold his gaze. “I don’t like it.” 

“I’ll be okay,” he says, smoothing his thumb over her cheek in reassurance before turning his attention back to the group in front of him. They look like they’ve just seen father do a cartwheel, he thinks, amused. “What?”

“N-Nothing,” Thor responds. He looks like he’s holding back on teasing Loki, still unsure of how dangerous the mortal is, even though she looks to have simmered down a little, thanks to Loki. 

“Have a seat,” Sylvie tells all of them, gesturing to the biggest booth they have, conveniently placed close to the door just in case she needs to throw them out fast. “We’ll close the shop and bring out some tea. I’m sure everyone has questions they’d like answered.” 

“Thank you,” says the woman with the group, addressing Sylvie with a newfound respect in her eyes. It’s not every day you see Thor and the Warriors Three shaken up by just the glare of a mere mortal. Whoever this woman is, she’s good for Loki, Sif thinks. She observes her companions again and rolls her eyes at the lingering fear in theirs. “Come on,” she prompts them, walking with sure steps to the booth the woman pointed out to them. They follow her like puppies.

“They’re watching us,” Sylvie comments as glances at the booth. She’s busy prepping six cups of coffee for the group and water for herself while Loki piles whatever baked goods they have left onto two of their finer high tea stands. Knowing Asgardians, they’ll probably devour everything within five seconds of putting it on the table. While waiting for the beans to grind, Sylvie sends a quick text to Clarissa telling her not to bother coming in after school and that they’ll drop by her flat with her cookies later on that night. While distracted, Loki grabs her by the waist and pulls her into a hug.

“Let them,” he whispers into her ear. “I have nothing to hide.” 

“You know,” she leans back and wraps her arms around his neck, “this is not the way I pictured meeting your brother.” 

“You threatening him with just a look? No, this is exactly the way I pictured you meeting Thor,” Loki laughs, earning him a playful slap on his arm. 

“Piss off,” she chuckles.

“I always knew you’d be my knight in shining armour,” Loki carries on.

“Oh, he’s got jokes now,” she banters. 

“If you’re done flirting over there, I’d like to meet the woman who’s gotten you all soft, brother,” calls Thor from the other end of the cafe. He turns back to his friends and addresses them now. “Never thought I’d see the day.” 

“I will hit him,” Sylvie mutters under her breath. 

“I won’t stop you,” Loki says, smoothing a hand through her hair before giving her a quick peck on her nose. “Go take a seat, I’ll bring these out.” 

“Okay,” Sylvie agrees, the ache in her swollen feet getting worse every moment she finds herself standing. The woman from the group immediately makes space for Sylvie to sit down next to her once she sees her waddling towards them. “Pardon my manners, I didn’t get to introduce myself earlier. My name’s Sif and these are Thor and the Warriors Three.” 

“The Warriors Three?” Sylvie appraises all of them. “What, you three don’t get names?” 

“We are Fandral, Hogun and Volstagg,” says the burliest one. 

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Sylvie says politely. “I’m Sylvie, Loki’s wife, and this–” she nods to her bump, “is Hope. She’s due in the Spring.” 

“I never thought I’d see the day Loki takes on fatherhood,” Thor says, happiness in his voice at the turn of events. “It looks good on you, brother!” 

“Thanks,” Loki says, levitating the tray of food and drinks to the table carefully. Sylvie will kill him if he drops and breaks one of her finer china again, inwardly shuddering at the last time that happened. He winces as he remembers just how bad his back got after sleeping on their tiny couch for a week. She didn't even let him conjure it into a bigger one!

“So tell us everything!”

The group spend the next two hours relegating everything that’s happened since Loki’s banishment, starting from Loki and Sylvie’s work agreement turned romance, to their wedding and starting their family; all five Asgardians seemingly happy for their favourite trickster. 

After that, Thor offers Loki the story of how Odin fell into a long slumber right after exiling him to Earth. “We tried everything, Loki,” he says. “I know you’re upset but no one could figure out where you were and when we did, well… here we are.” 

“It’s alright,” Loki says, exchanging meaningful glances with Sylvie next to him. “If it weren’t for father and his punishment, I wouldn’t have met Sylvie.” She gives him a soft smile. “And I can’t think of anything worse than that.” He looks up and captures everyone’s gazes, wanting them to know just how much he meant his next words. “She saved me.” 

“That’s really great, Loki,” Thor says earnestly. “I’m sure mother and father would like to meet her too. We can give you some time to pack things up here and bring you both back–”

“No,” Loki says with finality before looking at Sylvie, a soft smile crinkling the lines around his eyes. 

“What do you mean, brother?” Thor asks, confused faces staring back at Loki across the table, all except for Sif. 

“They don’t want to go,” Sif voices up, understanding of their unspoken decision. 

“This is home now,” Loki explains, gesturing around him. “She is my home.”

“Are you sure, Loki?” Thor asks, confused as to why he'd want to live out the rest of his life in such a small, shitty town. “There’s so much room in the palace for you and your family to grow.” He's talking to Sylvie now. “Sylvie, you’d love it at Asgard. Mother would–”

“Thor,” Loki cuts him off. “As much as it’d be lovely to see everyone again, I’ve found my purpose here. I want to raise my family here.” 

“Well, alright. I shall respect your wishes, brother,” Thor concedes. “Do drop by for visits some time though. I’ll have Heimdall keep a portal open from this realm to ours whenever you and Sylvie are up for one.” 

“That sounds perfect, Thor,” Sylvie says. “Thank you.” 

“It does,” Loki echoes. 

"Well," Thor claps his hand on Loki’s back affectionately, making his way to stand. “Till then, brother!”

“Till then,” Loki says, he gives Thor, Sif and the Warriors Three a heartfelt nod before they make their move, Sif already calling out for Heimdall to bring them home. 

“I’m happy for you, brother,” Thor says as he pulls Loki into a hug. 

“Thank you, Thor,” Loki returns the hug, his eyes getting glassy. “Goodbye.” Sylvie is ready to pull him into her side as Loki carefully extracts himself from Thor’s embrace, knowing just how sensitive her husband is when it comes to his family and approval from his older brother. 

They both watch as Thor walks out of the cafe to join the group and get lifted back to Asgard. Once they’re gone, Loki lets out a little scoff of disbelief at the events of the day before a tear slips down his face out of his control. “Oh honey,” Sylvie tightens her arms around him in an embrace, whispering sweet nothings into his ear as she cradles him to her. “You’ll see him again, I’m sure of it.”

“I know,” Loki breathes her in, already feeling the comforting effects of her presence all wrapped up around him. “I just missed him a lot.” 

“I know, honey,” she coos. “I know. We’ll visit whenever you’re ready okay?”

“Okay,” he responds. “Thank you for being here.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” Sylvie says. “Let’s go back in. We’ve got a goddaughter to feed.” He lets out one last sniffle before grunting in affirmation, entwining his hand in hers and leading her back into the shop. 

Now, this is home.