Granny Sal ashed her cigarette in the jewel encrusted bowl Wade stole off some minor royal in Morocco five years ago and blew a trail of smoke out of the corner of her mouth. At her left, Neena stared down at the cards in her hands—three of them—and sipped on some of the fancy Japanese whisky one of the bar's regular clients dropped off.

"We don't have to do this," Weasel said from Neena's left. Cool Ranch dusted his fingers and kept away from dirtying the five cards in his hand and his gaze flickered around him from behind smudged glasses. "We can end this civilly. Peacefully."

To his left, Peter regarded his own five cards with an intensity saved for AP exams. He said nothing as he reached for the bowl of Spicy Sweet Chili, the most underappreciated Doritos flavor, and laid in wait. Wade rounded out the circle at the table and grinned too widely over his ten cards, sharp and pointed and endlessly malicious.

"Peace was never an option, you cock-guzzling lizard." He slammed a +4 in the center of the table. "Make it as yellow as the piss bottle tower near the dumpster!"

Sal stuck the cigarette back between her lips and dropped another +4 on the pile. "Keep it yellow, sugars. Can we shoot whoever's leavin' that nasty shit outside?"

Neena's stuck down a +4 of her own. God. "Yellow's good. I thought there was a camera in the alley anyway because someone would not stop vomiting in the same place no matter how much cat litter you put on it." She looked at her cards. "Also, I'm loving this frankenstein deck. There's a million cards in here and it's full of hate."

"This is what happens when you keep every Uno deck you get over ten fucking years—you birth a monster with fifty red zeroes." Weasel side-eyed her with a patented stink eye and stacked a yellow +2 right on top of it. Neena jumped in with her own green +2 and a chipper call of Uno. "Jesus Fuck, I gotta purge this nightmare."

He raised his head, made direct eye contact with Wade, and dropped a blue +2 into the mix.

Wade started to sweat.

"Petey, listen." Wade turned to the laser-focused teen who hadn't looked away from the cards once this round. "It wasn't supposed to be this way—you're my elbow buddy, my second in command, we bunked together in Vietnam and I let you have the rest of my chewing gum rations—"

"What's the best Doritos flavor?"

Wade shut his mouth with an audible clack.

Peter slowly spun in his seat, feeling like he should be leisurely petting one of those sphynx cats. But Josephine was the perfect substitute for such a role and allowed him to pet her head as she loafed in his lap.

"One easy answer," he prompted. "Or I'll crumble the kingdom you built on nothing but expensive liquor and a dream."

"I have honor."

"You have a choice."

Wade held his chin high despite lowering himself onto his own chopping block. "And my choice is to stand behind my Spicy Nacho and never betray her to the likes of you, you purple-bag sympathizer."

Peter sighed and shook his head. "That's a shame, soldier. We could've won this war together."

He pulled from the middle of his hand and sealed his comrade's fate with an ugly, disgusting red +2.

Wade screamed.

"That's what your dumbass gets," Sal huffed as she put down a red three and didn't blink when Neena emptied her hand with a red seven and cinched her place at the top for the eighth game in a row. "Play stupid games, win Super Loser for the fifth time today."

"Plus twenty, bitch!" Weasel crowed. "How's that twenty-nine card hand taste?"

"This deck fucking blows."

"You are what you suck, chode cheese."

Wade grumbled and threw the rest of his hand over his shoulder.

It was still early in the day, a few hours before the bar opened where no one had any assignments to complete, mercenary or high school or otherwise. Peter plucked a Spicy Sweet Chili chip and fed it to Josephine and she clucked in appreciation before attacking the corners with vigor. Things had been... suspiciously smooth sailing since his impromptu field trip to Asgard a couple weeks ago and with no ravens to watch for or riddles to wrap his head around, he was content to kick his feet up and not get dead last in Uno.

Him and Ned even finished putting together the Rebel Combat Frigate Lego model set they'd been meaning to do! Look at him, being mindful of a work-life-vigilante balance and stuff. He deserved a gold star for that.

"Oh yeah! Before I forget—" Peter turned to the backpack hanging on his seat and wrestled out a smaller string bag filled with bits and bobs of sleek metal. "Mr. Weasel, I managed to apply that phase switch configuration and amp up that resistance barrier. I'm not going to lie, it really helped that you got your hands on all those old StarkTech scrap. Old phones included."

"A lot of good parts go to waste when people scramble for the new model every year," Weasel said, taking a sip of his whisky. "You got them to withstand a decent temperature range?"

"They should be functional between -30°C and 60°C. They'll kick it after five to ten minutes at the extreme ends, but I added an alarm tone that sets off two minutes before they go dead for real."

"Fuck yeah, let's see 'em."

Peter cracked open the bag and dug around for the beta models and clued in the rest of the table. "Mr. Weasel and I've been looking to upgrade the standard comms Sister Margaret provides because right now they're kind, uh..."

"Cheap," said Granny Sal.

"Shitty," Neena supplied.

"Like you took the working parts out of a walkie-talkie you get from the kid's section at Walmart," Wade added.

"D, all of the above," Peter agreed. "So I bullied Mr. Weasel into getting some new upgrades. I don't know if I'd go straight into into stealing out of back channels—"

"Kid, I'm a perfect picture of malicious scrimping."

"—but I was able to fix up some decent trials. Here, try it out for a bit, tell me what you think." He handed a set to Wade and Neena and Weasel and, "Want to try it out too, Ms. Granny?"

"Thank you kindly, sweetie, but I've already got my hearing aids."

"Fair. Maybe in the next upgrade I can make a more hearing-accessible version." He looked at his boss. "It shouldn't be too hard to make something like that, right?"

"It probably won't have all the functions of these ones, but you could probably figure out a good alternative." Weasel downed the rest of his glass and picked up the bottle to pour himself some more—and for Granny Sal and Wade too when they stuck their glasses out. "You wave that fucking soldering iron like you're the Harry Potter of Circuitry."

Wade squinted. "Isn't there an L in that word?"

"What?"

"Sold-er-ing."

"L's silent, dude. Saa-der-uhng."

"That's fucking bullshit, why put the L in there if you're just going to make it silent?"

"Do I look like Merriam Webster to you?"

"I don't think you could pull off being a Merriam. Marguerite, maybe. Marley at best."

Peter opened up the notes app on his phone and made a few bullet points for the next upgrade cycle on the comms. And there would be an actual upgrade cycle for their tech if he had anything to say about it.

"I'm going to get more apple juice from the back." He carefully lowered Josephine onto the floor and brushed chip bits off his lap.

"Get me some too, please," Neena said as she shook the ice around her empty glass. "If I have any more of this I won't be able to drive tonight."

"Sure! What about you, Ms. Granny?"

"If you can get my pills from my purse—"

"Blue cap, two tablets?"

"Oh, you're just the sweetest thing." Granny Sal reached up and pinched one of Peter's cheeks as he came around the table. "Weasel's bum ass doesn't deserve you."

"At least I can pronounce words correctly."

Wade grabbed a handful of Spicy Sweet Chili, because he could afford to waste this flavor specifically, and chucked it.

"Hey! There better be some left when I get back!" Peter warned on his trek to the break room.

"I don't work for unjust causes, Super-Boy!"

Bold words from someone who was about to get a box of only Spicy Sweet Chili straight from the factory on his birthday.

Peter rolled the muscles in his neck as he crouched down in front of the mini-fridge, his gun shifting in his waistband and his dagger pressing into his ankle from its place in his work boots. This shift was going to be a good one, he could feel it; him and Granny Sal had finally convinced Mr. Weasel to make tater tot nachos a seasonal menu item, and what better season was it than It's-March-And-I'm-Craving-Tater-Tots? No doubt it'd be a hit of the rest of the mercs who were decent potato appreciators.

He dragged the gallon of apple juice out and off its side and snagged a water bottle and shut the fridge door with a foot before heading over to the dark red purse in one of the storage lockers. Mom would be by later to walk him to May's, too. They did it a lot less often than they did when they first came into his life, but they came by to hang out every now and again to fight with Wade or make Weasel sweat with a single imperious look. But they'd been on edge since Asgard and sometimes scowled directly up at the sky when they were particularly annoyed.

He understood the concern. Hell, it warmed him that Mom cared about him so much, but he didn't think Heimdall would call him up again so soon.

Heimdall. Not the King or the Queen, because even if he didn't want him dead like Odin did or spin him around in circles like Frigga did, he had an agenda the same as everyone else.

Why beam him up to Asgard at all if he didn't?

Peter tapped two pills into his palm before he screwed the cap back onto its bottle and slotted it back into the purse.

The Space Stone. The Mind Stone. The Infinity Stones.

Thanos.

He turned on his heel and strode out of the break room, chips on his mind and his constant burden of responsibility a little heavier on his shoulders.

::

"Wipe that ridiculous look off your face."

Peter's grin only widened. Loki scowled.

"I'm just happy you've got friends at work too," Peter said as Loki fussed over straightening his clothes. It was just a button up, some nice pants, and shoes that weren't sneakers, an outfit he would've worn if he was giving a presentation in class, nothing close to fancy like what Loki as Loren wore today with his pitch black suit and deep brown turtleneck. "Now you've got May, Neena, Mr. Weasel, Wade—"

Loki scoffed and rolled his eyes. "May, yes. Neena, an acquaintance. Do not entertain the idea that I more than tolerate the latter two fools."

"I thought you finally liked Wade!"

"He is barely endurable when he keeps his mouth shut, and he has proven time and time again that he is incapable of even a modicum of respectable bearing."

"So you like him sometimes."

The look leveled his way made him laugh as he was spun around so that the invisible lint balls could be brushed off his shoulders.

"He is the algae that foams on the surface of still lakes." His mom's eyes drew to the gold hands of the wall clock, and he purses his lips ever so slightly. "You need not attend if it is not your wish," he reminded for the thirtieth time in the last hour. "My coworkers have no obligation to your time."

"I didn't put on my nice pants to not go."

"Those are your nice pants?"

"Mom."

Loki sighed. Maybe it was just long enough that Peter couldn't remember what it was like to try and decipher the looks on his face anymore, and sometimes he marveled how the God of Lies could have expressions that were so painfully honest—like now with his displeasure sprinkled in grudging acceptance. He wouldn't have even thought about attending this party if it weren't a requirement for the Historical Society staff, especially with how his boss urged everyone to bring along a plus one.

So naturally Peter jumped at the chance.

"It won't be so bad," he said as he slung on his jacket and looped his snowman scarf loosely around his neck. "We'll stay for a while, say hi to everyone, check out that new exhibit, and then we can get Thai before the evening dinner rush. Easy peasy."

Loki sighed again and donned his own coat a shade darker than his turtleneck.

"We one day must speak of your penchant for allowing yourself into dreadful situations."

"Meeting your boss isn't a 'dreadful situation.'"

"Meeting yours was."

"You're just mad Mr. Weasel's so cool."

"Cool is certainly a word I would have never deemed fit to use myself." Loki extended an arm and Peter quickly latched on, wrapping both hands around brown wool, keeping his feet flat and shoulder-width apart, and bending his knees. Green eyes turned down at him, amused. "Ready?"

Peter squeezed his eyes shut. "You know it."

Cold flashed over his skin like river rapids and the harsh tug at his navel nearly spun him to nausea, but he focused on the black marble under his feet being replaced with concrete in half a millisecond and felt the air he breathed now tinge with ice instead of the ambient temperature of the upscale apartment.

"You are improving," Loki said as they stepped out of a shadow in the alley they appeared in.

Good, he thought as he sucked in a deep breath and ironed out the fuzziness in his head. If he ever had to fight a magic user and they warped him around like fast travel he'd have to get used to the brief, spinning headaches he got for the trouble. Was this what a hangover was? Because he didn't know how people did it if they couldn't metabolize it before they could order their second drink. Or at least, that was what usually happened with Wade.

"Definitely better than the first time," he agreed. "You know, I almost ate it when I got beamed up."

"The Bifröst has always lacked the finesse the individual sorcerer can more easily attune. The force required to bridge light years of distance will rarely manage to contain itself."

"Yeah, Mr. Heimdall explained it that way too when he went into the politics of the runic knot it leaves and the conquering nature of land branding, branding in general, which, yikes." He shook his head as they climbed up the steps of the Historical Society. "But you probably know about all that stuff already." And it probably wouldn't be productive trying to talk about the ills of imperialism to someone who belonged to the Asgard's Probably-Imperialist Royal Family But Only Because He Was A Stolen Artifact, so.

Loki hummed in assent but said nothing more as he opened the door to the bright, open interior of the museum. A fair amount of people already milled around inside, swimming in conversation and swathes of business casual wear; lots of earthy tones, bold jewelry, fun patterns on long skirts and comfy sweaters. It was like standing in the teacher's lounge and he was the new kid who'd mistaken the door for the bathroom.

He glanced down at his shoes to make sure there weren't ice crystals forming on the soles.

Mom leaned down, perfectly calm and cool as brown eyes glimmered behind his glasses. "No one has made note of us yet; an escape may be conducted with no shortage of dignity."

The most menacing glare he could muster only got him a chuckle before they both pulled their eyes over the crowd. Between training and patrol and working the bar, he picked up a thing or two about scoping out a new place. Note the exits. Objects that could be used for cover. Place to hide. Things that could be weapons, which turned out to be everything more often than not.

Dagger on his calf? Check. Web-shooters? Hidden under the sleeves of his button up. No gun today, though, he tried to keep that at Sister Margaret's.

"Is this like a cube of cheese on a toothpick kind of shindig?" he asked.

"Why would one deign to cube their cheese?"

"Loren!" A cheerful voice called out from ahead of them. An older, tattooed-covered woman approached them in a bird-patterned skirt that swished around her shins. Pigeons, specifically. Wade would love her. "Right on time, as always." She turned toward Peter, pleasant surprise gushing through her kind brown eyes. "And you've even brought a guest!"

Peter smiled and held out a hand. "You must be Mrs. Iolani! M-Dad's talked about you—he's a big fan of your coconut pie!" His smile widened when Loki's own polite smile twitched. "I'm Peter."

Mrs. Iolani blinked. "Peter," she repeated, like if she said it herself it would make the sound of who she knew as Loren having a kid be more believable. She took his hand in a solid grip. "Well, it's very nice to meet you. I wish I could say your father talked about you too! Are you interested in the arts?"

"Dad finds a way to make it sound interesting, but I've always been more of a science guy."

"'Science Guy' is not such an apt term." A hand came down to rest on each of Peter's shoulders. "He is also one of the top students at Midtown Technical High School. Have you heard of their Academic Decathlon's recent exploits? Because it is due to Peter here that they were able to cinch their latest victory at their opponent's absolute laughable attempt at explaining the development of the atomic bomb, an elementary introduction to nuclear physics—"

Oh gods. Loki was that parent.

Just a couple days ago, he and Ned watched a video of a coconut crab demolishing macadamia nuts with a meaty claw and they subsequently learned that they had the strongest grip strength in the world. Crustaceans were the arachnids' fancier cousin, he always said (not really, but he could always say it if he wanted to), and yet an abnormally large crab wouldn't be able to keep him in place the way his mom was with this awful conversation. Mom apparently could not shut up about his grades and school and marching band—which he hadn't been a part of for a year! By the way! And he guessed it didn't matter that he was going to pass out with all the blood rushing to his face as he watched Mrs. Iolani's face slowly morph from absolute bewilderment to unbridled mirth.

And she just let him stand there. To suffer.

He should've let Mom convince him that this whole exhibit opening would be a bust.

But she started to take pity on him about five full minutes into the one-sided dialogue when she offhandedly mentioned that they had a table of refreshments on the other side of the partition wall.

Peter had never left a conversation faster in his life.

As he paced towards the promised land of free snacks that did in fact include cubed cheese, he took note of the wood paneled floors and the priceless artifacts artfully set across it. It was nowhere near as opulent as a palace and the halls weren't filled with watchful servants or royal threats, but somehow he felt just as small. He was the youngest person in the room by far and unlike in Asgard, no whispers followed and no ravens traced his footsteps, and if he was able to play his cards right they'd be in and out and eating Thai faster than—

"Didn't I tell you that shirt makes you look like you own your first tech start up?"

Peter whipped around so fast he almost flung the paper plate he just picked up.

"May!" He exclaimed, not squeaked. Squeaking was for mice, not ferrets. "Wha-What are you doing here?"

::

May raised a single brow.

He really did look a lot more polished today which was a lot easier to notice when all he ever wore were baggy hoodies and too-big flannels and jeans so worn down that she had to make a rule that if he had to mend the same hole more than five times, it was probably time to chuck it in the trash. But now his shoes were unscuffed and his hair was styled with a pinch of product—no doubt Lora's influence—and his eyes were so wide that she might as well be glowing like car brights on a midnight highway.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

Peter's fingers curled tighter around his empty plate. "... I asked you first."

"Uh-huh." She narrowed her eyes; this was about to be a fun conversation. "You remember Tammy?"

"Tammy who makes that awful green bean casserole?"

"Tammy who would've heard you say that if she wasn't looking for her daughter right now," she replied pointedly but was unable to fully straighten out the quirk at the corner of her mouth. Peter raised a hand in defense. "But yeah, that Tammy. Her daughter's a curator here so she invited the floor to come see the new exhibit. I'm the first one here, but the others'll show up later." She crossed her arms. "Your turn."

And that was when she knew he started to sweat. He was supposed to be with his mom tonight, and she would guess this place would be something of her style. She'd gone to Stanford, hadn't she? With a specific history degree she couldn't recall at the moment?

After a few long beasts, her eyes narrowed further.

"Peter," she prompted warningly. He gave a winning smile that never would've worked on her in a million years.

"Has anyone told you how pretty you look tonight?" He questioned.

"Peter Benjamin Parker—"

"Lost yourself in the charcuterie spread, did you?" Came the laughing voice of The Big Boss. Her head pulled in the direction of the voice and—May stopped. And stared. And took longer to realize that her body was starting to forget to tell her lungs to pull in deeper breaths.

She'd already been introduced to The Big Boss and her even bigger personality when she got there earlier, but the man next to her...

She blinked, and squeezed her eyes, and stared again at The Stranger who donned a nearly identical look of panic to Peter when he met her eye, but it was quick to melt away when he quickly glanced away with pursed lips.

"There's a lot of cheese to choose from," Peter responded weakly. May's gaze drifted from the top of his head to The Stranger's and, she noted faintly, she didn't know why it felt so wrong that their hair was the exact same shade of brown.

"I highly recommend the vegan cheese selection we got from a producer out in Long Island. Pairs the best with our top shelf Ritz crackers, haha!" She beamed. "You father was just telling me, and boy did he have all the words—" She paused and turned to May— "oh, I didn't mean to interrupt. Do you two already know each other?"

But May couldn't find the words. Father pinged relentlessly around her skull alongside what the fuck and there better be a good explanation for this because something about this felt off but Peter, always too smart for his own damn good, sidled up right beside her and bumped her shoulder with his.

"May's my aunt! Other side of the family," he clarified. What the fuck.

"Really," The Big Boss mused. She turned to The Stranger. "Had I known Loren was hiding so much family, I would have wrangled him into more events!"

Her booming laughter could've shaken the museum at its foundation, and in her good cheer she slapped Loren's arm as she reached for one of the vegan cheeses. The grimace that twisted his face sparked an uncanny recognition that sent a shiver down from the base of her neck, and when he brushed his sleeve all haughty and pompous it was just like—but that—

May frowned and her wrong-footed feeling didn't go away. Peter could have friends, could be helping out someone he knew because one of the best things about him was his ability to stretch out his hand to anyone who needed it, but something about this was different. Something about this person was different.

Loren. Lora. Those names were too close. But the person in front of her wasn't...?

The Historical Society suddenly swelled in sound as all the guests began their slow move towards the newest exhibition.

The Big Boss checked her watch. "Oh, we're just about to start the full announcement and reveal our newest pieces," she informed them. "Jeannie really did such a wonderful job putting it all together. Loren even restored a few of the pieces on display!"

Jeannie. Tammy's daughter. And she'd come here for Tammy, not because she knew jack shit about art or history but because Tammy really was so nice even when her green bean casserole belonged in a pig pen.

Sorry, Tammy. She would stay longer if her kid stopped finding ways to give her a heart attack.

"We'll be over in a second. Peter just reminded me that I have something to talk over with his Dad."

She did feel a little bad when Peter bit his lip and looked down at his plate.

Unaware of the confusing tension or doing a very good job of ignoring it, The Big Boss waved a hand. "Of course, of course, I'll see you over there. Make sure to leave some cheese for the rest of us!"

And she was gone in a flutter of pigeon-print, leaving behind a strained silence that May wouldn't stand for.

She breathed in. Breathed out.

"I'm going to go over there, find Tammy, and tell her that something came up and I need to get back to Queens ASAP while you get us a ride back to the apartment because we are not having this conversation in public," she told them firmly. "And when we get there, you're going to explain how any of this," she gestured vaguely to them, "is any part of a good idea. Got it?"

"Yes, May," the two of them murmur in tandem, and that alone chills her spine like nothing else.

::

In a coarser turn of phrase, perhaps this was one of those moments where he 'fucked up.'

The taxi to the Parker residence confined a frigidity he was not yet familiar—a novelty to both his years and his inherent nature. On the other end of the backseat May sat, arms folded as she watched the rolling scenery with a thoughtful frown. Beside her, Peter's shoulders hunched to his ears and his fingers tapped nonsensical rhythms against themselves as he kept his silence. And there too he sat, the bridge between May and himself at no greater distance than this present moment.

How strange to admit that this ate at him. That the unsurety in his stomach bore against the edge of smithed metal and the taste at the back of his tongue lay a bitterness he did not enjoy. May... Was. Was a presence in his life that did not haunt and just as much of an anomaly as his dear heart at his side. Someone—a Midgardian—he held close when he found none other in the place he used to call home.

May knew him, but did not know him. But with the knowledge she did possess, would it be enough?

(Will I be enough?)

His mind swirled in that same sort of storm until they arrived at their destination and May commandeered them both to the couch.

"Sit," she ordered.

They sat.

And then she paced before them like a general in a war room. This was her state for a long draw of time, still bundled in her peacoat as her boots trailed on the rug and her glasses glinted under the living room lights.

"First things first," she eventually began, finger pads up to her temple as she gained the unusual view of towering over them. She looked at Loki first. "Who even are you?"

He glanced to the side, to the way Peter held himself so tightly that if he were any lesser being he would snap under the pressure.

He forced his attention back and kept his chin poised and raised.

"Loren Fjeld, as I appear to you now."

Her mouth molded around the syllables of his other name.

"Loren Fjeld," she repeated. "Alright. And am I supposed to know you from anywhere, Loren? I think I would remember someone who looks like Peter and would go around in public calling himself his dad."

Yes, well. He could not combat such a fair assumption.

"May—"

She turned the imperious eye all mothers seemed to master on to Peter, to which he responded with a quickly shut mouth.

Loki internally detailed his options. Informing her of his true name had never been an active consideration, and he did not mean that with malicious intent. Lora was who she had always known and resented for a time with good reason, and Loren he had not expected to cross her path at his building of occupation. His own fault for not thinking so far ahead.

Her eyes cut back to his.

"Well?" She planted both hands on her hips. "Let's hear it."

A lie is a lie is a lie is a lie. It was what he did best, the most prevalent association to his name.

Yet he allowed the green glow of his seidr wash over him. Hair lengthened and darkened and she plucked the glasses off the bridge of her nose and tucked them into the pocket of her blazer as the cloth warped slightly to fit the changes of her shape.

The frustrated confusion in May's face tipped more in favor of the latter as she tried to reconcile her sight with her reality—even Peter took his surprise in widened eyes that eased a few layers of tension off his skin.

"I do apologize for keeping this from you," she said in the wake of May's loosened jaw. "I did not tell you not because I did not trust you, no, never that. It is merely..."

She wished her tongue did not lack its usual silver rivers, but just as with Peter, May meant far more to her than the vermin that crawled these city streets and that in and of itself should have forewarned that she could not keep away all the facets of herself forever. Perhaps waiting until she had been back into a corner had been what she was waiting for.

"It, is it..." May paused for a moment, then pushed on hesitantly. "Do you have... magic?"

"Seidr is my branch of it, but yes. It is sorcery I perform."

Loki carefully observed her from her perch on the couch. Her stomach had no need to act so unsettled, slowly churning this way and that. What need did royalty have for such anxiety? May would not turn him away for this nor would she bar her from Peter's side, not even when her truth would reveal itself whole.

The sigh that escaped May's chest dropped her shoulders, and she brushed stray locks behind her ear. "Peter, if you've had magic this entire time so help me god—"

"You think I could get away with that if I did?"

"You got away with being Spider-Man way too long until you left the door open while changing out of your costume."

Peter flushed. "It was a long day."

She sighed again and looked at Loki, wearier. "You know, if you told me sooner I wouldn't have dragged us all out of the museum so early. The Big Boss was really talking up those vegan cheeses."

And when she smiled, it was warm. Welcome. Kind.

The pit in Loki's stomach yawned and stretched its greater maw.

"Mom didn't want to go anyways," Peter quipped. "Loren works there, so we went, and we were going to get Thai after."

May reached over and straightened his crisp, ironed collar. "You weren't going to stay long? You even wore your nice pants!"

The smug grin Peter turned her way warmed her as it always did, but only this time it did not inspire her quick-wit. Loki could let this lie and take the victory for what it was; her power did not allow her future sight and she could not say how long it would be from now to then that May would stumble upon the god she did not know she knew, but she could bide her time. Sow compelling thoughts that perhaps some events did not cause as much harm as they appeared to, or it was perhaps that people were more than their actions and evidence of destruction was not evidence of poor character. Two thousand twelve was a long time ago, was May remembering correctly? The media had such a way of mincing and exaggerating the facts that they themselves carefully selected.

And suddenly her musings of manipulation were interrupted by a vision of Peter's imminent disappointment. Then May's face, angry, terrified, soaked in betrayal.

That was something, even with all her wealth, that she could not bear to afford.

Loki stood. "There is... something more you should know."

Peter stood too, his cheer once more overshadowed by how his gaze flickered between her and May. Eventually they came to land on his mother, his mouth pressed flat in understanding as he stayed unwaveringly at her side. Oh, her dear heart. Her love. Her boy who deserved the worlds and more.

"Another bomb to drop, huh?" May said as her brows dipped in mild concern. "I don't know how you can top telling me there's a sorcerer in the family—and I do have a million questions about that."

"I will answer all of them to the best of my ability if it is that you decide to keep your association with me," Loki promised. She clasped her hands behind her back. "All I ask is that you hear my words to the end."

"And it's really not that bad!" Peter piped in. The coolness of his skin permeated shirt and jacket in reaction to their shared curs—inheritance. "I mean, not that I'm excusing it because, uh, well, maybe it was really bad and a lot of people die—um!" He thrust both hands out and shook them frantically at May's widening eyes. "Wait, wait, wait, it makes sense, I swear! Just—Just give Mom a chance, okay? I've known for a while and they've really just been here to be here and I know I'm biased but I trust them and you do too and that shouldn't change, right? And yeah, okay, I'm not the most unbiased person and I'm not making a whole lot of sense, and you know what? I'll shut up now. I'm not making any of this better." He turned a small, sheepish smile up at her. "Sorry," he whispered.

The fondness that welled in her chest could kill her if she allowed it so, and she squeezed his shoulder before the chill of her seidr washed her over. And so they became the most common version of themselves, how they mostly were on Asgard's streets, Valaskjalf's halls, Odin's home.

Green, leather, gold.

For a moment, there was nothing. Silence and bated breath overtook the air until recognition began its trickle through the haze, and they watched the exact point at which the one expression they never dared wish on May's face bubbled to the surface.

Fear.

"Peter," May said quietly.

"May, it's fine! It's—"

"Fine?!" She barked. "The alien god who tried to destroy New York is my baby's mother and that's just supposed to be fine?!"

Loki suppressed the urge to flinch.

She drew in a single, shaking breath and held clenched fists close at her sides as she kept her gaze solely on her nephew.

"You trust them, you said?"

Peter nodded frantically. "Completely. Always. They'd never hurt you or me."

May looked like she either wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him senseless or take him and run despite the chances of making it out, but she could not because they both knew that this wasn't his fault. He trusted, and he loved, and he hurt because of how hard he tried to. To May, they were another person that could take advantage of that.

But they hoped she would listen. (And hoped she would stay.)

"Then I want you to go to the Thai place with our favorite calamari," she ordered, and they blinked in surprise. Like a beast drawn to protect her cubs, May held herself steady, planted herself firm despite the cracks in her bravado, stared into the eyes of a hunter who only ever wished to be half the mother this Midgardian time and time again proved herself to be. "You're going to walk there, not jog, not run, not swing. You're going to order when you get there, sit and wait for it to be done, and when you come back you're not going to jog, or run, or swing, you understand? I know about how long it's going to take you, and you're not getting back any earlier than that."

"What? But May—!"

"Go on, Peter." Loki tilted their head toward the front door and donned a most assuring smile that charmed even the most stolid of warlords. Though in his current company, it only granted them a resigned nod and a deepening frown, respectively. "We will be here upon your return."

But if the look on May's face was indicative of their chances, they could only hope that would be the case.

::

What. The. Fuck.

No seriously. What the fuck.

She waited a few moments after Peter shut the door behind him before she focused on calming the trembling in her hands. Peter would be fine, he'd been fine the whole time he'd known Loki. Loki, a mythological god, Thor's brother, the Avengers' villain, standing in front of the couch while all the little things she knew about them started to make sense. Their posh attitude, their affluence, the weird way they talked about everyday things like it was the people part that confused them, and May always chalked it up to them being so rich that they might as well have been raised on another planet.

Which. Well.

Turned out that all along it was a people thing—a human thing, because a literal alien god who could kill her in a split second was part of the family.

God. Or, should she start saying Gods now?

"Are you afraid?"

They were quiet when they asked, all soft words and nothing like she imagined a mass murderer would sound like.

"Am I supposed to be?" May countered. Her voice didn't shake and when Loki looked at her, their eyes sloped down and she saw nothing of the rampage through the city almost five years ago. She remembered it clearly, the way the skies opened up and how after, any rerun of Independence Day had her changing the channel as the phantom taste of smoke and ozone hit her tongue.

"No, never. It is as Peter said—I would never cause you harm."

They stepped forward and she stepped back, and their neck bobbed with the force of their swallow as they kept themselves back and held up two empty hands. Did empty hands matter if they could use magic?

Their mouth opened again. When nothing came out for a long few seconds, they closed it, and the prickling sensation at the back of her neck increased tenfold.

"Is Peter really yours?" She asked. "Was it really you back then with Richard, Mary, Ben..."

Loki inhaled through their nose and briefly shut their eyes. "Yes. Before I would often abscond from under Odin's watchful gaze and spend time here on Midgard. It just so happened that I met Richard upon one such outing, and when I found myself with child I lived in a secluded area in the New York State until giving birth." Their eyes opened, green irises shadowed and wistful. "I am lucky that my gestation period is comparable to Midgardians so there was no need to explain my true nature when I told Richard I had borne his son."

May remembered that day, too. Her and Ben had been trying to salvage a particularly bad take on wild mushroom risotto when they'd gotten a frantic call from Richard. He'd just gotten back from his honeymoon when an old fling told him that he had a kid who was already old enough to crawl.

"Nine months straight was my longest time on this planet, uninterrupted. I managed to host Peter on Asgard for a month after his birth, hidden from all with the help of Heimdall, before I returned to Midgard for another six months. But the Allfather's suspicions continued to grow and I knew I could not maintain this routine. If I had continued my journeys to this city and tried to maintain my duties as a mother, he would have found out." Rage, quick and electric, flashed through his gaze like lightning. "I did not exaggerate when I said that Odin would kill him. He was so small, then. It would have been more than easy."

Yeah, well if they had the power to rip a portal into thin air for an alien army to come through, she couldn't begin to imagine what kind of power Odin had.

Power wasn't something May would say she had right now. She was out of her league, overpowered, out her whole damn mind for letting anger build up in her bones. She was never known for keeping her mouth shut when it suited her, and she wouldn't start now just because the odds were stacked a thousand percent against her favor.

"So you trusted Peter with Richard and Mary and were gone without a trace. Do you think your intent makes up for everything that you did? You were on Earth five years ago in the city you knew you left your son and you tried to raze it to the ground." She bit out. "Peter was ten. He was small and scrawny and taped up his glasses because he was too clumsy to be trusted with new ones and he was tucked into my side for hours in that shelter when those aliens flooded the streets trying to kill anyone they saw!"

It was like Loki was rooted to the floor, stricken. What right did they have to look so surprised?

"Did you even care that you could have killed him?"

"Of course I care!" They snapped. "Peter is everything to me! My mind was consumed by outside forces you could not begin to understand, warped by powers unmatched by any other in the universe and in their clouding I failed to consider—"

"You shouldn't have failed to consider anything when it comes to him!" She surged towards them, toe to toe as she stared straight up into their face. "You think you could just waltz back into his life despite everything you've done, everyone that died? Peter's probably forgiven you for all of that because he's got a bigger heart than anyone else I've ever known, but who's going to stop you from going out and breaking it? Huh?!"

"How many times must I reiterate that I would never hurt him?! That I would never hurt you?! Peter is my son, my flesh, my blood, my bone. He bears my curse—" Loki growled and physically shook their head, the intensity in their eyes bouncing the edges like electrons in their atom— "He is mine, and you are my—"

Her anger burned white hot. Theirs? She wasn't anyones!

"I'm your what?!" She demanded. "Another human you can kill?! Another obstacle in your way?!"

"You are my May!" Loki roared.

She stumbled half a step back.

They pressed a pale hand over their eyes and took in deep, measured breaths that she could barely hear over the thu-thump thu-thump thu-thump in her ears.

"I do not know what else you would like me to say," they admit quietly, still turned just to the side with their head tipped down towards the floor. "I do not want to end Girls' Nights. I do not want to have no one to share a bottle of expensive wine in the midst of laughter over the inanity of 'reality TV shows.' I do not want to stop teaching you how to make the foods I learned from the cooks at the Royal Palace. I do not want to lose you, not for anything, even when you and Peter are the very last people I deserve." They paused, almost as if realizing what they said wasn't what they meant, but were too far along to take any of it back. "I know I have done many deplorable things to you, your family, the people of this city, but with you and Peter I believe that the very least I can do is be there when I was not. Does that make me good? Certainly not; my tongue will never dull from its sharpness, I rage when I should calm, and trickery and cunning will always be woven through this crooked heart. I have killed, and I can assure that I will kill again."

Loki finally looked at her, and she almost couldn't reconcile the way their eyes shone with an unshed wetness.

"I would do anything for Peter, and I would do anything for you," they said. They promised. "And I hope that will account for something."

And all May could think of was how terrified she was.

Here this otherworldly being stood, this deadly god... Her jaw tightened. She could keep standing here too, thinking the same things over and over and over again, but none of that changed anything. Alien. God. Deadly. Loki.

Who was also Loren, who worked as a museum conservator.

Who was also Lora, who was a mother who was trying her best.

May wound her arms around Loki's middle and tugged them close, all of a sudden wrapped in the strange mixed scent of leather and early morning frost. She was losing it. She had to be if she was doing this, and wasn't Loki known for being the God of Lies? If this was one gigantic manipulation they were doing it was flawlessly executed, because she also didn't want to end Girls' Nights or wanted to find another wine buddy and wanted to keep learning to cook and didn't want to lose them either, dammit.

She felt their muscles tense through all their layers of clothes before a pair of arms envelope her tight, afraid to let her go.

"This doesn't fix everything," she said into the thick material of their shirt. "Don't think I'll forget the things you did so easily."

"Who would you be if not endlessly upstanding of your beliefs?" They murmured, and she huffed and squeezed for a long moment.

First a superpowered kid, and now an in-law from space. She wished Ben was here to see just how crazy her life had become.

"Tonight was supposed to be mildly boring," May said as she leaned back from their embrace. "I had a date with leftover bolognese—you know, Peter's getting real good at cooking. If he's never made pasta for you yet, you should try some." As she peered at the clock, a different thought struck her head. "Does everyone really think you're dead?"

They nodded. "My brother has recently discovered my whereabouts, however, but has sworn himself to secrecy. Next time the oaf decides to visit, I will have him meet you."

Thor was lurking around here too?

"Did you know Thor is Peter's favorite Avenger?"

Loki sniffed and made a motion of swiping their hair from their face, and she didn't call out how close it looked to them wiping their eyes. "Yes, I have had a conversation or two on his substandard taste in heroes."

And speak of the devil—the front door banged open and in a rustle of plastic, Peter slid into view with a take out bag in each hand. He was at no loss of breath but his hair was back to its untamed nest and the speed of him looking back and forth between his mom and aunt was going to put a crick in May's neck.

"Speedwalking is walking!" He exclaimed. "And when I got there there was this huge line and by the time I was able to order the guy that has a crush on you was like 'Oh, is May not here?' and I was like 'Nah, I'm just putting in an order but I'll totally tell her you said hi' so he threw in some shrimp rolls for free and—and—" He paused, went back to shut the front door, and reappeared in the living room. "Um. I'm guessing that since Mom's still here we're all good?"

May and Loki exchanged a glance.

"There's still a lot for us to talk about, but we're good. For now." She pointed a finger at them both. "But no more big secrets like this, got it? Between the two of you, you're going to give me indigestion."

Peter laughed as turned to set the bags of Thai on the table, still-warm food filling the apartment with mouthwatering spice.

"Yeah, May," he said. He bent over the knots he still had trouble untying to this day, his face shielded by nimble fingers and condensation-covered plastic. "No more big secrets."