Son of Mischief (Loki/Asgard Fanfiction - Selig's Story)

Chapter Two

Fridays were Lia Baker's favorite day. She taught kickboxing, which was her favorite class to teach and she had sessions with two of her best clients. Every Friday, she left Club K smiling and today was no exception.

She eased her red Jeep Wrangler into her parking space and climbed out, and as she stretched to retrieve her bag, her good mood faded as a very familiar voice said, "Hey, Ce. How are you?"

She froze. She knew that voice, but thought she would never hear it again. Actually, she was counting on never having to hear it again because doing so scraped along her nerves like a piece of rough-grade sandpaper over an open wound.

The bag forgotten, she straightened up and slowly turned to find herself staring at a broad chest. Her heart skipped a beat and she had to force herself to look up. Broad shoulders. Shaggy black hair. Beautiful blue eyes.

A face too handsome for its own good.

One she slapped without hesitation. "Go to hell, Selig."

"Ow..."

She spun away from him, reaching over the side of the Jeep to tug on her bag. But she was at too odd an angle to heft it up. A curse bubbled to her lips as Selig Lokison ever so calmly reached over her head and lifted the bag easily. "Here. All you had to do was ask."

"I'm not asking you for a damn thing," she told him, crouching to yank up the duffel's shoulder strap and slipped it over her shoulder. "Go away."

"Ce, look, if you'd just listen to me—"

"I'm not the least bit interested in anything you have to say to me." She stepped around him to stalk toward the row of townhouses, pausing long enough to get the mail out of the box and slip her key into the door.

"Ce, I'm in trouble. Please."

She turned as the screen door shut, and as soon as she did, she wished she hadn't. The last seven years had been way too kind to Selig. As a boy, he was handsome, the sort of boy all the girls at Central wanted to date.

But as a man, he was absolutely delicious—all broad shoulders and chest, although he did look a little worn out—with wavy black hair that fell almost to his shoulders, sinfully perfect features, and the most beautiful blue eyes God ever bestowed upon a man.

He was perfect.

She hated that he was so damn perfect.

"Why should I help you, Selig?" she asked, letting the duffel slip from her shoulder to thud dully against the ceramic tile floor. "Give me one good reason?"

He moved to the foot of the brick stoop, one foot on the bottom step, a hand on the black wrought iron railing. "Because you're pretty much the only friend I have in nine realms."

"So call Heimdall and go home."

"I can't."

She folded her arms over her chest and glared at him. "And how is that my problem?"

"Look, I know you're angry with me, Ce, and you have every right—"

"Lia."

His forehead furrowed. "What?"

"I don't go by Ce any more, Selig. It's Lia now."

"Lia."

She almost sighed at the way it sounded when he said it. After all his time in Asgard (or wherever he'd been since the morning he snuck out on her) his Midgardian accent faded and he spoke with the crisp elegance that made him sound almost English. From what she remembered of his parents, his father spoke the same way. When she was a little girl, she spent a lot of time in the Lokison house (although back then, she knew them as the Odinsons and no matter how Selig tried to explain it to her, it made no sense) and had so many happy memories of being there. In some ways, she loved Selig's family far more than she did her own.