FIC: Quiet Me ~ Tomki

[batsutousai]

Title: Quiet Me ~ Tomki
Fandom: Marvel (movie 'verse) & Real Person Fiction
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: T
Pairings: Tom Hiddleston & Loki (pre-slash)
Warnings: Banishment, forced mortality, hurt/comfort, abandonment issues
Summary: Making friends with Tom Hiddleston hadn't been intentional, but Loki finds himself clinging to the only connection he's made as a mortal.

Disclaim Her: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Marvel. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The characters of Thomas "Tom" Hiddleston is based on a real person, and no offence is intended; this is only for the amusement of myself and other like-minded (read: mentally ill) fans.

A/N: From a list of prompts on tumblr as a response to a prompt given to me by an anonymous commenter. The prompt was Quiet Me Tomki, with Loki being the one that needs to be cared for.
Sort of ended up being more pre-slash than anything else. I blame my exhaustion. I kept nodding off while writing it.

Oh, good. Today always leaves me feeling morose. I needed to write some hurt/comfort.

-0-

With Thanos engaged in a long war with some allies of Thor and his human compatriots, and the threat of the Svartálfar cut down to an easily manageable level, Odin was finally ready to hand down Loki's full punishment. He'd told Loki, in light of the assistance he provided on Asgard's behalf – as convoluted and full of mocking as the assistance had been – he would have a choice for redemption, just as Thor had once enjoyed during his mortal banishment.

Loki had spared no more than a sneer for the Asgardian king, refusing to show the terror bubbling inside him as his magic was drained away and the passages to replenish it blocked with a geas of Odin's creation. He allowed the shackles and gag to be removed, and his clothing changed to something more common to Midgard, not fighting against any of their actions.

What would have been the point?

At last, Odin pulled out a familiar artefact and used it to send Loki between realities, to a version of Midgard where SHIELD and the Avengers were little more than wishful thinking.

Wishful thinking, clever storylines, and some truly talented actors, Loki discovered after sneaking into a cinema to watch one of the films.

It was honestly chance that Loki ended up in the same place as the actor who portrayed him. Even more to chance was their first meeting, which took place when Loki quite literally ran – or walked, on his part, though Hiddleston was jogging – into the mortal, staggering and suffering the most miserable hangover he'd yet had the displeasure of suffering in this body. The coordinator of the homeless shelter he'd been staying in had kicked him out the front door after he'd thrown a plastic knife at someone for talking too loudly, ordering him to let the fresh air clear his head.

Loki couldn't really remember much about that first meeting with the actor, but he mustn't have made a terrible impression, for when they crossed paths in the park on another morning, Hiddleston slowed his jog and moved carefully over to where Loki was feeding a flock of cooing pigeons. (Mortals seemed to think they were dirty, terrible birds. But Loki, who could still understand any language he came across, animal communication included, found them to be delightful little spies.)

So intent on what one pigeon was saying, Loki didn't notice the mortal until he said, "I don't suppose you remember me...?"

Blinking in surprise, Loki turned to the interruption, already thinking up a strong encouragement for the interloper to move on, but the words stuck in his throat upon finding the actor looking down at him. "I–" Loki paused to clear his throat. "Yes, of course I remember you." He grimaced. "I don't remember much else, however. Whatever I said, I apologise."

An odd expression passed over the mortal's face before he shook it away. "Nothing insulting, I assure you."

Loki snorted and offered the mortal a smile inviting him to share in the joke. "I'm well aware of how much an absolute bastard I am while suffering from head pain. No need to pretend otherwise."

The actor smiled, following Loki's lead. "It was hardly the worst I've ever had slung my way." He held out one hand to Loki, expression just slightly hopeful. "I'm Tom, by the way."

"Locke," Loki replied, using the name he'd adapted after discovering how likely he would be to stand out with his true name, given the current popularity of the tales of Thor and himself. He grasped the mortal's hand and gave it a firm shake. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Despite whatever I said last time."

Tom chuckled and lowered himself to sit next to Loki on the dirt, being careful not to disturb the pigeons waddling between them and pecking hopefully at Loki's hands. "I admit, I didn't take you for the sort to feed the pigeons," he said before Loki could do more than briefly wonder why the mortal had joined him.

"They are surprisingly good conversationalists," Loki said, still a bit distracted with questioning Tom's presence.

Then he realised what he'd said and tossed some seed towards the bird, movements jerky. "Ah. I mean–"

"We had a dog when I was a kid," Tom told him, lowering his voice as though speaking in confidence. "Unconditional love so long as I snuck him food. He was an excellent conversationalist, as well. Always seemed to know exactly what I needed to hear." He smiled, wide and honest.

Loki blinked at him for a moment, disbelieving. Then, catching himself off guard, he found laughter bubbling out from between his lips, as honest as the mortal's smile.

Tom's smile, impossibly, widened. "Do they have names?" he asked of the pigeons.

Loki shook his head helplessly. "Not ones that will translate to English."

Tom let out a quiet laugh. "We should fix that."

-0-

Loki spent almost two months meeting up with Tom in the park in the mornings. Sometimes they would feed the pigeons together, other times Tom would talk Loki into jogging with him. On the latter days, Tom would follow the jog with dragging Loki back to his hotel for breakfast, ignoring Loki's insistence that he wasn't hungry or he had some imaginary appointment or another to attend to.

One day, Tom didn't show up, and Loki waited for almost three hours, absently feeding the pigeons that gathered around him, before one of them reported that she'd seen Tom packing some suitcases into a vehicle.

Fear shot through Loki, tempered by the familiar sensation of loneliness which had been pushed to the side by the morning meetings. He dropped the last of the seed he'd brought, offered a hurried thanks to the helpful pigeon, then ran for Tom's hotel.

Hoping...

Hoping...

Tom was standing under the awning, arguing with someone who was gesturing angrily towards the vehicle standing there, doors hanging open to show empty seats and a packed back. There was a small crowd, held back by hard-eyed men in matching outfits that looked similar to what Loki had observed the staff of the hotel wearing.

Like a punch to the gut, Loki was reminded that the man who dragged him to breakfast and helped him feed pigeons in the dirt was actually quite well-known.

"Tom!" Loki called breathlessly, trying to duck the burly man who made a grab for him. The first man missed him, but a slight woman with a surprisingly unforgiving grip caught him and held fast.

"Locke!" Tom called back, something like relief in his voice. The woman holding Loki let him go when Tom motioned for her to and met Loki partway between the entrance to the hotel and the security line. "I thought I saw Shannon winging it away from here," he offered with a careful smile, using the name they'd settled on for the pigeon who had warned Loki that Tom was leaving.

Loki stared at him. "You're leaving," he said, a statement of fact.

Tom gave a brief nod, expression switching between regret and uncertainty like the rolling waves of the sea.

"You didn't tell me," Loki snarled, anger rising to bury the ache in his chest. "Yesterday, after those children scared the flock away, or the day before when you dragged me back here even though I had–"

"I'm sorry," Tom cut in, voice coming out in a tumbling rush. "I just– I'm sorry. There were things I was trying to sort out–"

"And what," Loki spat, "exactly, was so important that you couldn't spare a moment to say good-bye?"

Tom swallowed and pulled a small booklet with a long envelope sticking out of the top out of the satchel Loki hadn't even noticed him carrying. He held it out to Loki, quietly admitting, "I didn't want to."

Loki frowned and flipped the book over, gazing over the front cover. The unfamiliar symbol over words that almost didn't make sense. He flipped it open to a picture of himself, one he hadn't even realised had been taken. Across the top was the mortal first name he'd chosen, as well as the last name the shelter had given him when he swore he couldn't remember his.

A passport. Proof that Loki was a real person. That he was allowed to leave the country, should he wish to do so.

"I wasn't sure everything would be settled in time," Tom admitted, voice quiet enough to stay just between the two of them. "You sort of don't exist, you know. But, well, it worked out. Like magic."

"Wha–? Wh-Why?!" Loki hissed, clutching the passport tightly in one hand and waving the other a bit uselessly at his side. "What for? What's the purpose of this– this–"

Long fingers slipped the envelope from between the pages of the passport and carefully pulled out a single ticket. A ticket with Locke Smith on it. "Come with me to London? You can stay at my place until we find something that you're qualified to do–"

Loki shook his head, mind a mess of thoughts and emotions. "Why would you–? But you've only– It's been two months. You can't trust me! You can't just–!" Loki waved the passport in Tom's face.

"Loc–" Tom shook his head and frowned. "Loki," he insisted, gently encircling Loki's wrist with one hand, ignoring the way the former god had gone tense all over. "For me, it's been years. And you–" He sighed and squeezed Loki's wrist before letting go. "You need a friend; we all do. I have the space, and the money, to house you for a while. Help you figure out what you're doing here." He smiled then, faint and a little strained at Loki's continued silence. "Well, other than feeding the pigeons and using them to spy on the city."

"How did you know?" Loki finally whispered, pulling the passport book to his chest and clutching at it like it was all he had in the world. (Maybe it was.)

Some of the strain eased from Tom's expression. "You told me. That first morning. Somewhere between calling me a 'sack of weak, mortal bones' and a 'waste of a god's precious air'."

Loki resisted the urge to groan. Barely.

Tom held the envelope with the ticket back to him. "My driver might actually take a page out of Coulson's book and taser me to get me into the car in a minute, here."

Loki snatched the envelope and pushed it against the passport held tight against his chest. "Next time," he ordered as he let Tom lead him towards the vehicle, "you will inform me at least two weeks before you are due to leave."

"Next time," Tom murmured in response, smiling over-bright at his driver, "you'll know as soon as I do. So, like, three months. Something like that."

"Sufficient," Loki decided.

Tom grinned and told his driver they could leave.

..