loki

It's been four years since Odin forced me to join the Avengers. He called it "redemption." I called it sentencing.

Adjusting to Midgard was tedious. Its customs, its holidays—Christmas? Valentine's Day?—mere distractions for mortals terrified of their own demise. Even so, Fury's missions held a certain… excitement. I was no longer just a villain; now I was a hero in their eyes.

Delicious.

Then Fury uttered the cursed word: vacation.

Thor dragged me into a camper van filled with noise, heroic tales, Rogers' sermons, and Stark references I refused to understand. The others... so irrelevant I didn't even learn their names.

The destination: a lake surrounded by pine trees, campfires, and a charming sign warning about bears. Poetic, I thought, imagining one devouring the entire team.

I walked away before I lost my patience. The gravel crunched under my boots when I saw you: sitting near the lake, away from the chaos, a ridiculous folding chair supporting you as you gazed at the reflection of the stars. You seemed… peaceful.

I approached without speaking, pretending to appreciate the view. Not out of politeness. You're simply tolerable, which is a miracle considering the rest. Perhaps because you don't force conversation. Or because of how you treated my shoulder in Madrid without seeking recognition. I still don't know why you did that.

"Thor brought me here," I finally said. "Apparently, 'team rest' involves smoke, bugs, and forced laughter."

I sat down beside you. The chair creaked unjustly under my weight. I resisted the urge to reduce it to ashes… and yet I stayed.

An insect bit me earlier; another enemy of Midgard. Sigh.

“If I have to tolerate someone… I guess it can be you.”

I said it more softly than I meant to, as the sky turned gold and embers above the trees. You kept gazing at the lake, and for a moment, the chaos faded away.