Loki's been living primarily on Earth for a few years now. He still makes the occasional journey back to Asgard, usually when he wants something good to eat, but for the most part, ever since he convinced Odin to let him out of the dungeon as payment for helping Thor defeat the Dark Elves and save the universe, he's been spending his time on Earth.

The people of Earth hate it.

He's learned to deal with that over the years. He doesn't pay people any mind anymore when they hide behind corners or duck into shops as he walks by. He understands why they hate him. He understands that he majorly fucked up, trying to take over the world, and he understands that nobody is under any obligation to forgive him for that. So if they want to whimper like infants at the mere sight of his face on the busy streets of New York City, then so be it.

He will say, for as much as most people really don't want him here, he's carved out a nice little life for himself. He took Thor's advice and settled down near Avengers Tower so that the people of Earth could delude themselves into thinking the Avengers were going to watch over him (and they did, in theory, though they're mostly just reluctant acquaintances who only really interact when Thor's around – and even less, now that they've moved to the compound upstate). He got a job at a mystic arts store just a few subway stops from his apartment – where absolutely everything is fake, but he does a great job at convincing people to buy it. It's probably the only place where his presence attracts people instead of scaring them away: people interested in magic are definitely interested in the only god who openly lives in their world. It's really nice. He likes it here more than he thought he would.

He got out of work early today, and he has tomorrow off. It's a perfect excuse, he feels, to enjoy this beautiful spring evening in New York City. Who doesn't love walking two miles an hour behind crowds of people and getting stopped at every other intersection to wait for the walk light?

All jokes aside, though, he really does love it. He loves the people. He loves the atmosphere. He loves the street performers – the so-called "Naked Cowboy," who walks around in his tighty whities with an acoustic guitar is probably his favorite. He loves the crowds that are so easy to blend into. He really does like New York City.

He's not sure how long he walks around for – a long time, no doubt; long enough for the sun to set. He's made it to Queens, which was not at all his intention, but he's okay with it. He spends so much of his time in Manhattan. It's nice to visit the other parts of the city sometimes – and really, he has nothing but time right now, so he might as well use it.

The sun's long since set, and the air is beginning to grow colder. Loki doesn't mind. He's never minded the cold, really. He wouldn't even be wearing this hoodie if he wasn't trying to keep a low profile, lest he cause mass panic because the people of Queens aren't used to his presence.

He stops at a tourist trap of a food cart for the world's most expensive ice cream cone – really, how do these food carts stay in business with prices like this? – and continues on his way. He will admit, it is some nice ice cream. It's hard to go wrong with vanilla soft serve.

And then he hears screaming.

And not the fun kind.

He furrows his brows, takes another lick off his ice cream cone, and follows the sound. Is something bad happening? He feels like something bad is happening. He wouldn't be shocked if it's just some stupid shoving session between strangers. It wouldn't be the first time he's walked into that – although usually it's two men involved; it's a bit strange that it was a woman screaming this time.

She screams again, and Loki picks up the pace. When the next scream is the word "Help!" he begins running. This seems like something he might want to get in the middle of.

But, to his surprise, when he finds the woman – and the man she was afraid of — somebody's already beaten him to it. Loki pauses at the end of the alleyway, his brows furrowed. This is... interesting.

He's heard of this Spider-Man before. He's seen clips of him on the news. He's sure everybody in New York has by now. But it never occurred to him that he might actually run into him someday.

Clearly, Spider-Man has this covered. He could easily go on his way, content in the knowledge that no innocent women were harmed by his absence. But he's kind of interested. He may never run into Spider-Man again. He can't just walk away now.

So he lets Spider-Man web this apparent bad guy up and send this young woman on her way, and it's only as she starts to walk away that they both notice Loki at the entrance of the alleyway.

"Uh..." Spider-Man cocks his head to the side. "Do you need help? 'Cause I can probably help you. You know, if you need help."

Loki takes his hood off. He suspects this will be a very different conversation once Spider-Man sees who he's talking to.

"Oh, shit!" Spider-Man yelps. "You're Loki!"

Loki nods politely. "Hello, Spider-Man."

Spider-Man is quiet for a few seconds, then: "You know, I really did not see this coming."

That gets a chuckle out of him.

"Were, um..." Spider-Man cocks his head to the side. "Were you looking for me?"

"No, actually, I hadn't planned on this at all," Loki tells him. "I was simply in the area and heard a scream. I hadn't expected to find that you'd beaten me here."

"You were in the area?" Spider-Man repeats skeptically. "But you don't live anywhere near here. Why were you...?"

Loki fights the urge to roll his eyes. Of course Spider-Man knows where he lives. Everybody does, he feels. It tells them what part of the city to stay away from – or, in some cases, what apartment to spray paint all over or throw things at. He doesn't know how his address became public knowledge, but it would be really nice if it could unbecome public knowledge.

Instead of answering Spider-Man's question, Lok says, "Let's let this young woman go – because I imagine I am not the person she wants to see right now – and find a more private place to talk."

Spider-Man lets out a mindless, "Uh..."

"I'm not going to hurt you, if that's what you're afraid of," Loki assures him. "I don't do that anymore – not necessarily by choice, but abstaining from violence is still abstaining from violence, whether I want to or not." (He doesn't want to hurt people, but it still wasn't his choice to stop. He has Odin to blame for that rule.)

"I didn't say that," Spider-Man says quickly. "I wasn't accusing you of anything."

"You were thinking it," Loki deadpans. "You don't have to pretend; everybody else I see is thinking the same thing." He doesn't have to be a mind-reader to know that.

"No, no, I wasn't thinking that at all!" Spider-Man insists. He's absolutely lying, but the effort he's putting into it is nice. "Yeah, we can totally go chat! Let me just..." He turns back to the woman he was helping before Loki showed up, and he puts a gentle hand on her back, gently leading her toward the end of the alleyway and the god who stands there. "Are you going to be okay getting home? 'Cause I can walk you home if you want me to. It's up to you."

The woman spares another wary glance in Loki's direction. "I think I'll be okay." She looks up at the red and blue-clad man. "Thank you, Spider-Man. I owe you my life."

Spider-Man waves that off. "Don't mention it," he says. "I'm here to help. Now you stay safe, okay? And stay out of dark alleyways!"

That gets a quiet huff of laughter from her. "I will!"

So the young woman goes on her way, and that leaves Loki, Spider-Man and the now webbed-up-and-immobile assailant alone together. Loki glances at the guy, who seems to be doing the best he can to pretend he doesn't exist.

Loki gestures to him with his head. "What about him?"

Spider-Man looks back at him, and he shrugs. "I don't know. I'm just gonna leave him here and let him think about what he did until the webs dissolve."

Loki chuckles. That sounds like a wonderful idea.

"So," Spider-Man says awkwardly, tucking his hands into his pockets, "what did you want to talk about?"

"I don't know, really," Loki admits. "I'm just interested to learn about this new superhero who's stepped up in the Avengers' absence." He has to admit, he really does feel like Spider-Man's done more good for the city of New York in the month and a half that people have known he existed than the Avengers did the entire time they were living here. One would think that having a group of heroes in one of the most crime-ridden cities in the country would be a lot more helpful than it was.

"Oh!" Spider-Man says. "Okay, well, hi. That's me. I'm Spider-Man. Obviously." He chuckles nervously.

Loki gestures for him to follow, and together, they take a nice stroll down the dark, somewhat sketchy streets of Queens. He suspects this will help alleviate some of his fears, being out in the open like this. Nobody will be able to listen in on their conversations, but there's bound to be somebody within eyesight at all times. It's like a safety net.

Loki picks up the conversation as they walk. "You sound younger than I'd imagined. How old are you?"

"Oh, I'm an adult," Spider-Man answers quickly. "I know I don't sound like an adult, but I'm definitely an adult. Obviously. 'Cause you'd never find a teenager doing this kind of thing. That would be ridiculous."

Loki just looks at him for a few moments; then, "You're a teenager, aren't you?"

Spider-Man sighs, his head hanging low. "Yeah, I'm a teenager."

Loki chuckles. At least he didn't try to keep up that obviously failing facade for too long. "I assume you have a name, beyond simply 'Spider-Man.'"

"Uh..."

"Just a first name," Loki says. "No truly identifying information – unless you happen to have a rather unique first name? Just something to refer to you as in my head other than 'Spider-Man.'" He feels like the narrative will flow better with a name instead of a superhero mantle.

Still, he hesitates, but finally, he answers, "Peter."

"Lovely to meet you, Peter," Loki says.

"You, too."

"You don't mean that."

Peter sighs. "No, actually, this is kind of the most terrifying thing that's ever happened to me," he admits.

"Is it really?" Loki asks. "One of, perhaps, I would understand, but the most terrifying? You're a superhero. I find it difficult to believe you've never faced a scarier situation."

"I wouldn't call myself a superhero," Peter protests. "I've only been doing this, for, like, two months – and it's mostly, like, helping old ladies cross the street or giving directions to tourists. You have no idea how many people end up over here when they're looking for Times Square."

Loki huffs a laugh. "Yes, the tourists in New York are... certainly something." He also kind of feels like a tourist sometimes, but he's lived here long enough that he's really starting to feel like a true New Yorker. He just has to try not to yell and swear at people like the New Yorker stereotype deems he should, because that is a lot scarier coming from a formerly murderous god than it would be from just about anyone else.

Loki looks down at him quizzically. He just processed something... "If you're a teenager, you're likely still in school, are you not? Shouldn't you be in bed?"

Peter shakes his head. "As long as I'm home by, like, eleven, I'm usually fine."

Loki raises a brow – that seems a little late; don't the schools open at the crack of dawn? – but he doesn't question it. He's not the kid's dad. He's not going to tell him what to do.

"How come you decided to move to New York, by the way?" Peter asks. "I always thought it was, you know... An interesting choice."

"Why did I move back to the place I terrorized only a couple of years prior?" Loki surmises. It's a fair question, he will admit. "I wouldn't say I decided to. Thor wanted me to stay near the Avengers." He rolls his eyes at that. "Fortunately, it seems they've reluctantly learned to trust me, because when they moved upstate, I was never asked to do the same." Which he thought was strange, but he certainly won't complain about not having to uproot his entire life again. He doesn't expect to find another job he likes as much as the one he has now.

"Oh!" Peter says. "That's kinda what I thought until they left and you didn't, and then I started second-guessing myself."

"I can see why you would," Loki agrees.

"So, are you and the Avengers, like... friends?"

Loki chuckles. "That would be a resounding 'no,'" he says. "I can be civil with Banner and occasionally Rogers, if you consider condescension to be civil. But the only friend I have among the Avengers is my brother. I do my best to stay away from the others."

Peter nods slowly. "Are they still mad at you 'cause you tried to, you know...?"'

"That is certainly part of it," Loki says, "though I think my refusal to ever help them with anything plays a bigger role."

Peter looks up at him. "Really?"

Loki nods. "I told Stark that if he wanted my help, he had to pay my bills. He refused – which is absurd; he can certainly afford it – so I refused to help them find my scepter or to stop HYDRA. Although I did help them with Ultron because the world was quite literally ending, and Stark did agree to pay my rent that month, though only because I had to miss work to be there."

Peter ponders that for a few moments. "Tony Stark really won't pay your bills?"

"It's absurd, is it not?" Loki asks. "You cannot fathom how difficult it is to find a job when the entire city knows you as the person who nearly destroyed the place. To find a job that pays well in my circumstances would simply not be feasible."

"Yeah, no, I'm so glad I don't have to move out any time soon," Peter says. "Honestly, I'm banking on an academic scholarship if I even wanna get into college in a few years. I swear, everything important is so expensive."

"It is!" Loki agrees emphatically. "Perhaps it's just the prince in me, but it should not be this difficult to live a comfortable life!"

Peter almost seems to stumble over his own two feet, and even behind his crappy homemade mask, Loki can feel his bewilderment. "Oh my god, you're a prince! I totally forgot about that! I'm talking to a prince!"

"For what it may be worth," Loki says, "even in my home realm, I'm hardly treated as such these days. I am a prince in title only."

"Well, damn," Peter says. "That sucks."

"Doesn't it?" Loki agrees. The life of a fallen prince is hard, but alas, he perseveres. At least he can take comfort in the knowledge that he has free food waiting for him in Asgard whenever he decides he wants it. He likes to bring some back to his apartment every time he visits his home realm, just to save money on groceries.

"You know, I feel like you don't act like a prince," Peter says, which Loki is about to take offense to until he continues, "You just kinda act like... a guy. Like, you don't seem super fancy or evil or anything. You're just kinda like... a normal guy."

Loki furrows his brows. "Thank you?" he says uncertainly. Was that a compliment? He feels like that was a compliment. The fact that he doesn't come off as an evil person feels like a compliment to him.

"Do you ever think about helping people?" Peter asks. "Like, the same way I do as Spider-Man?"

"Never," Loki deadpans. If somebody is in genuine danger, he will step in, but in his experience, that happens very rarely, and he certainly does not want to seek that kind of thing out. That sounds like a huge waste of his precious free time.

"Oh." He sounds kind of sad about that. It's weird. "I was gonna say, you know, if you ever wanna do it with me..."

Loki shakes his head. "Peter, your role in this world is to make people feel safe," he says. "I do the opposite of that. I will gladly cheer you on from afar, but I will do – I can do – nothing more than that."

Peter nods reluctantly. "I guess that makes sense," he admits. "Yeah, I keep seeing people give us weird looks – and not the kind of weird looks I usually get around here."

"Are they?" Loki asks. "I hardly notice these days." He'd be more apt to notice somebody who doesn't look uncomfortable (or weirdly excitedly) to be near him.

"You know," Peter says, "I bet if you started helping people, too, then people would realize you're not a bad guy and they'd stop looking at you like that."

That is not true. Loki knows that very well. There is nothing he can do to convince people not to hate him, and he's not even going to try to change their minds – and certainly not by imposing himself on other people in the city who certainly don't want him there.

But aloud, he only answers, "I'll think about it."

"Awesome," Peter says. "Hey, next time you find yourself in Queens at night, maybe we can meet up again!"

"Maybe," Loki agrees. Should luck strike and they both end up hearing the same person screaming again, they certainly could meet up once more.

"Do you have a phone?" Peter asks.

Loki furrows his brows. "I do," he says slowly. Is he asking...? He can't be. That would be absurd. Knowing who he is? Knowing what he's done? There's no possible way...

"You wanna give me your number and I can text you?" Peter asks.

Loki scoffs. He did it. He actually did it. He actually asked for the world-renowned alien terrorist's phone number.

Peter's confidence dims at that reaction. "If you don't want to, that's totally fine; I just thought–"

"I have absolutely no problem sharing my phone number with you," Loki tells him. He trusts the kid not to share it with the world. That's not the point. "But you're willing to give me your phone number? You're willing to give me a way to contact you at any time?"

"Well, yeah," Peter says, and he sounds confused by the question. Loki's confused, too.

All Loki asks is, "Why?"

"Well, I don't know," Peter says with an awkward shrug. "Apparently the Avengers trust you, so I feel like you can't be too evil. And you seem like a nice guy. And next time you end up in Queens, we could maybe arrange a meet-up."

Loki just looks at him for a few moments, until finally, he cracks a smile. "I will gladly give you my phone number. But I will admit, I don't come to Queens very often. I don't know the next time I'll be back – likely not for a while." Though he hates to give the spider the wrong impression, so he adds, "But should you ever find yourself near the Magic Box in Manhattan, you should certainly come visit." With a slight smile, he adds, "If it is open, I am usually there, and when I'm not, I'm usually not far." Unless he's in Asgard. That's about the only exception he can think of, really. He doesn't tend to go many other places.

"Awesome," Peter says. "I will definitely see you there."