Chapter Text
Loki smiled to himself, satisfied that he had finally finished his journey through the farthest realms. He took a deep breath, patting the treasures in his pockets, and set his sights on Midgard, specifically on the apartment of Darcy Lewis. It had been quite some time since he had seen her and he would admit, only under the pressure of her gaze, that he had missed her desperately. It wasn’t just that he had missed the comforts of her bed and the pleasure of her body, he had missed the irritatingly soothing lilt of her voice, the way her smile went all the way to her eyes, the way she confronted him and comforted him in the same moment. He was ready to admit to himself that of all the women he had ever known, she was his truest match. During his time on Midgard, he had spent the last six months of it as Darcy’s lover. It was a role he found most fulfilling. Now that he had the relics he had searched for so relentlessly, he could return to her and begin the process of making her his for as long as possible.
He smiled as the familiar warmth and smell of her home washed over him. He opened his eyes and found himself at the foot of her bed, the exact place he had envisioned as he projected himself across space and time. It was dark, the middle of the night, and she slept in a crumpled heap in her blankets. He could sense that somethings in the room had shifted in the time he’d been away and as he watched her sleep, he thought there might be something about her that had changed as well. He had been gone a year in her time. She was not wearing her usual t-shirt for sleeping; she was dressed in more average Midgardian night clothing. Despite the fact that she was asleep she looked tired, the lines on her face a bit more set, but not from age, just from exhaustion. He watched her take a deep breath and he could not tear his eyes from the teasing hint of the most fantastic pair of breasts he had ever had the pleasure of burying his face in. Somethings were different, he could tell, but some things were not.
He magicked away his armour, eager to climb into bed with her and resume their relations exactly where they had left off. On their last night together he had made love to her, paying detailed attention to every single part of her body, mapping it with his hands and mouth. Afterwards, when she was completely spent and wrecked from climax after climax, he kissed her until she fell asleep and then he left her alone, disappearing into his travels, his eye set on his goal.
He had, of course, not told her exactly when he would go or for how long. He had hinted in the weeks prior that he would need to travel. He did not want an emotionally exhausting farewell, so although he knew she would be angry, it had been for the best. He expected that her joy at his return would outpace her frustration at his departure. Now, he wanted to climb into bed, wrap his arms around her, and have her wake rested in his arms and ready for their reunion.
He pulled his tunic away, leaving himself only in his cotton sleeping pants (a Midgardian invention he actually appreciated), and ambled to the side of the bed to crawl into the space next to her. He paused to gaze at her beauty in the moonlight and just as he was imagining millennia of her full lips and deep eyes, his wandering mind was interrupted by a piercing wail from the other side of the room.
Darcy's eyes flew open at the familiar cry, but her breath clenched in her chest when the first thing she saw was Loki, shirtless, standing next to her bed with a confused and startled look on his face. She threw back the covers and lept out of bed, brushing past him without even a look and swooped to the far wall of her room. Loki watched as she bent over the horrible noise and his eyes widened as she turned around, her arms full of a swaddled bundle with tiny hands waving about.
“Don’t be scared sweetie,” she soothed, her voice turning sharp as her eyes flew to Loki. “Daddy’s home.”