Strangefrost Oneshots

part thirteen ~ the market (1)

{set during Avengers: Infinity War, right after Loki's death but here, Thanos didn't actually kill him. takes place in Greenwich Village, New York. part one of three}

Loki wasn't sure why he decided to come to this market today. 

It was a crisp, cold morning and his breath came out in billows of white mist. The seam of his shirt scratched him slightly underneath his long, thick winter coat. He had his hair tied into a bun near the top of his head. With the slight breeze and the thin locks of dark hair that got buffeted by the softest wind, he didn't want it all to get tangled. 

His bright eyes darted around at every person roaming the market square as his boots crunched on the frosty ground. Loki pulled his coat tighter around him. He wasn't cold at all. Being a Frost Giant made him practically immune to it, but the suffocating closeness of the soft material made him feel safe. 

Suspicion and paranoia had become significant aspects of his personality as of late, he'd come to realise. He didn't feel safe anywhere but deep within himself. Lonely, you'd say. Not a great way to live, but it was a good way not to die. Thanos, the Avengers and his own brother were searching for him. He'd narrowly escaped the wrath of Thanos in the Asgardians' ship, but after his escapade... Well, he hadn't quite thought it was going to work at the time, so the aftermath had not entered his mind. 

Hiding out on Earth was the easiest thing he could do. Trying to act as though he were a normal mortal, such as the ones hurrying by him at this very minute in the cold winter months of the year in New York. It was the last place anyone expected him to be, but it was a risk for him nonetheless. 

The market he was at had been pitched up in a park in Greenwich Village. It came around every week, selling various second-hand clothing, unfamiliar smelling foods amidst some delicious ones, and a few memoirs for tourists. Loki had no money, and therefore, no real reason to be here, and yet he truly felt as though he had to be.

It was itching in his bones. His black-painted fingernails quivered with his hands in anticipation of the unprecedented events he could sense coming. Strange things were happening to him. His heart started to beat faster. His stomach was twisting into fluttering knots. He was frowning, and blinking furiously, gazing around at what seemed to be an incredibly peaceful and nonthreatening crowd of people. 

But then he saw him.

The sparkling light amidst the dark forest of winter coats. Loki's breath hitched in fear and he froze for a moment. He watched the man, who stood out with his deep red cloak and sharp eyes. He stood at a stall that was selling beautiful dream-catchers. His fingers were trailing lightly over an emerald green one when his hand stilled with his gaze. 

A shoulder, followed by a mumbled apology, bumped Loki out of his trance and he inhaled. Suddenly, the busy market seemed silent, for only his breaths, and those of the man by the dream-catchers reached Loki's ears. Blue met blue, but the blues were different. One was fearful; the other curious.

Loki turned and began to lope away quickly, his gaze searching for a faster route to a place out of sight for him to teleport away. He had a slim chance to get away, slim but possible, and he wouldn't risk teleporting in broad daylight. His mind clashed inside him. Why had he been brought here? Could he trust the man in red? What was the intense emotion he had felt when their eyes had locked? 

Footsteps followed him, and Loki became more frantic. What did this mean?

A hand caught his arm and he whipped around to stare straight into the eyes of Doctor Stephen Strange. The emotion washed over him again. 

"I'm not going to hurt you," Strange whispered. His face was awfully close.

"Why?" Loki croaked. "I deserve it."