A Feather's Trick ➸ Loki fanfiction

Chapter 12

Ultron had everything planned. I could not let him find out about my doubts. I was sure he was already doubting my commitment to his side. I was doubting it too.

"Pietro," I began, and he rushed to my side in a heartbeat. "Never gonna get used to that," I muttered to myself and he chuckled, "Why did you defend me against Ultron? Against your sister?"

For once he looked at a lost for words. He coughed. "Come. We must wait for the next part of the plan. The first part went very well."

"What will we do in the meantime? We're not exactly going back to Sokovia." I scoffed. "Are we?" I realized I had no idea what we were doing. He smiled. "What?"

"You called us, we. You think of yourself as one of us." He nudged my arm playfully. I opened and closed my mouth, unable to think of a reply. "That's why I defended you." His face was close to mine, so close I could feel his breath against my cheek.

Wanda coughed. Pietro didn't even try to move. I hummed, uncomfortable with the tension in the room. Wanda glared at me. Her glare meant less to me after I'd had Ultron's soulless gaze pierce me when we had returned. I stuck my chin up. If she was going to dislike me, I would give her a real reason.

"Come on Pietro." I grabbed his hand, surprising him. "Let's go."

"This reminds me of our time in Sokovia." He grinned.

"How so?" I failed to see the similarities between Sokovia and South Africa.

"Just us two," He singsonged, placing his hands on my shoulders, "together. Alone." His hands lowered to my waist.

"You were my captor in Sokovia." I reminded him teasingly. He seemed to take it harshly.

"That will always be a painful memory. But it also brought us together." He seemed conflicted. "I'm sorry." He looked pained.

"No, it's alright." I looked around us. "Why don't we do something really fun?" I attempted to distract him.

"Like?"

I smiled slyly as I pointed at a nearby bar.

With neither of us being entirely human, it took a great deal of alcohol for us to feel anything. During that time, we chatted. We talked about what our futures would've been like if we hadn't ended up there. I briefly mentioned my home, my real home of Vanir, and my parents' expectations when I had gone to Asgard. He mentioned the hopes he had for after the whole Avengers ordeal. I didn't argue with him, but I saw his eyes glaze as I told him about my friendship with Thor.

"You are nothing more than friends though?"

"Well yes. But he's been my friend, frankly, longer than you've been alive."

"A mere obstacle." He brushed our history off with a flick of the wrist. "The past is in the past. The future however, that remains to be determined." He held my forearms, tracing along them. "Show me your wings again." He begged suddenly.

"What?"

"They fill me with hope." He murmured.

"Even if I were to show you them again; the risk with Ultron is too great." I whispered the last part.

"He won't have to know." He rasped. I looked at him intently, judging his honesty. He smiled dazzlingly, trying to convince me. I nodded curtly, avoiding eye contact.

Pietro snuck us into a closed furniture store. He turned the lights on. It was small. A few beds, couches, and chairs littered the front room where we stood.

"Well this is homey." I said dryly.

"What. It's the best I could do on such short notice." He shrugged.

I took a breath. I'd never been nervous about my wings in the past. But in the past they had been pure. All that was left was their dark counterparts.

They unfurled behind me and he stifled a gasp. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank you." He fell to his knees, hugging my legs. They curled around him as I patted him, uncertain of what to do.

I was even less sure of what to do when he began to cry.

"Pietro? Pietro, please stop. I didn't know this would make you sad." My discomfort made my wings snap back to their dormant place.

"I'm sorry." He sniffled. "This is really quite embarrassing." He laughed, wiping the tears from his eyes. "Crying in front of someone you like, not the best impression."

My heart stuck in my throat, I couldn't reply. I sat on a couch where he joined me soon after, the fake fireplace on in front of us. He lay his head on my lap slowly, making sure I wouldn't reject him. I brushed his hair with my fingers and he sighed contently.

We whispered quietly to each other some more, the alcohol in our systems fading. He sat up, back to his more joking, carefree self. I was thankful. This side of him had flustered me.

Our chatting slowed down as we yawned more frequently.

"This was fun. Right?" I asked.

"It was." He smiled lazily. "I'm just gonna-" He broke off in a yawn. "Get more comfortable." He shuffled on his side of the couch, leaning into its arm more. I stretched before wincing as I pulled a muscle. I rubbed my trapezius muscle, my wings peeping out as I did. I felt Pietro brush his hand against the feathers and shivered. "Sorry!" He gasped, realizing what he'd done. "I should've asked...It feels like I'm always apologizing." He chuckled in embarrassment.

His touch was reassuring. It seemed to treasure my feathers as I used to.

"It reminds me of old times." I leaned against him, closing my eyes. "It's nice."

He froze for a moment, seeming unsure of what to do. Gradually, I felt him relax. I had almost completely dozed off when he whispered, "It is nice." He kissed the top of my head.