The Immortal >> Loki X Reader


Title: The Immortal


Paring: Loki X Reader


Warnings: mentions of science experiments on people, humor, reuniting with long-lost fathers, fluff. 


Spoilers: nope!


Sequel: To The Painter


Credits to: Yeva_Stark, who graciously allowed for me to use a line in this fic which I borrowed from them from a comment on the previous fic. Thank you!!


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The day after you started your search for your long-lost father, your paintings sold for enough money to allow for an all-expenses paid trip around the country in your Versa. It turned out that Loki's money was only an illusion, and as the sole breadwinner, you threw the both of you into your car, told your neighbour Mr. Murdock that you were going on a road trip, and went off on your way. Of course, the whole time you were just hoping that all the ideas in your head of who your bio-father was weren't going to be a major let down when you got there. And what (what? is that even a PC term for your species?) you were.


"Would you still stick around me if I turned out to be a microwave dinner experiment gone wrong?" you asked Loki, your arm out the window as you drove down the freeway to Washington D.C. where Loki's sources said they'd be. "I could be literally the toe cheese of humanity."


He shook his head. "That wouldn't change what I think of you."


You raise your eyebrows. "So, you think there's a possibility I'm a mutated Mac & Cheese?"


"Perhaps not...maybe a burrito," Loki laughed. "No. I think highly of you."


Just crossing from Maryland into D.C., you let out a breath you hadn't been aware that you'd been holding. Your natural suspicion had never led you this far before, onto a paper trail to find the man who'd helped bring you to life. But when one begins to paint pictures of things that are from other people's past, perhaps long-destroyed, the intensity tends to crank up. But natural suspicion or no, when you parked the car in a bay nearby the Triskelion, you straightened your back, locked the car, and marched off toward the customer service counter on the lower levels. It was still in construction, after the recent mess the HYDRA people.


But before you could even walk inside the building, two security guards had approached the pair of you, and escorted you to a separate entrance, their faces set into most defiantly not smiling, their suits looking more on the Men in Black side of the scale than Mall Cop. You thought not much of it until they walked you and Loki to an elevator, and pressed a button you couldn't see.


"Excuse me, I –,"


Loki's hand wrapped around yours, gently squeezing. In the reflective surface of the elevator, he looked more worried than pensive, but still appeared to know what was happening. But, after all, he was the God of Lies. He could do and say things to you, and they could be the opposite, for all you knew. But right now, was most certainly not one of those moments.


You had taken some time staring at the contact on your phone before dialling. In almost three rings, your mother picked up, her cheery greeting, and spiel about her week so far almost making you forget all the troubles that were on your mind.


"Baby? You haven't said a word, are you okay?" Her voice always made everything better. You loved the big city more than Portland, but you loved your mother more than all combined. "Come on, it can't be bad enough to not talk about it."


"I – I love you." You stammered.


But your mother saw through the façade. As a child, you'd say those three words to cover up things you weren't brave enough to talk about, or wished to get out. It was almost a code she knew all the ciphers for.


"Yeah, I love me too," she joked, "but please. I'm here for you, you know that."


You bite your lip. "I'm going down to D.C. for the weekend."


Your mother made a delighted noise, "Oh, is this for one of your art projects? No, don't tell me...you're catching that exhibit in the Smithsonian before they end it, about...er, Captain America?"


"Something like that. I, just wanted to tell you." You swallow. "I miss you, Mom."


She laughed. "Don't miss me! Enjoy D.C.!"


You were freaking out when the elevator dinged to the top floor, and you all stepped out, but when you saw the million-dollar face of Mr. Stark? You almost* wet yourself (*but didn't, thank the lord).


"Thanks, Happy, Grumpy," He nods to the guys who practically manhandled you into the Triskelion. "Good afternoon, Ms –," Mr Stark stopped himself, looking to Loki, "...wait, you don't wear the horns everywhere?" He asked.


"Only for special occasions." Loki held onto his eye-roll particularly well.


You step forward. "I'm here to see my father, Mr. Stark. Unless he's not – are you planning to threaten us?" You ask.


The genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist shook his head, "Uh, actually, I'm here to appeal to your humanity. Agent," he pointed beside himself, to a door painted red. On the door is the words Phil Coulson, "is in the next room. Go for your life." You're speechless, until you remember to thank Mr. Stark. "Loki...I say this in the sweetest way possible, but next time you want a reference...don't put me down. I mean it. Still a little hurt about you throwing me out my own window."


Snickering, you move toward the red door, leaving the Avenger and Asgardian God to their devices. As you move into the room, you notice it's well-lit, with a wall to ceiling glass window overlooking Washington D.C. There's a writing table in the corner, but the laptop is abandoned, desk chair empty. Instead, there's an occupant in a red couch which faces an identical one. At the sight of you, he stands, a soft smile on his face.


"I guess you've got a few questions," he straightens his tie, wiping his palms on his pants before offering you a handshake. "It's good to see you."


You frown, shaking your father's hand. "...I suppose everything I know about myself isn't as I think it is," you clear your throat, and take a seat. "Mom thinks you're dead."


"To keep her safe, I thought it best to be that way," Your father, Phil Coulson, nods. "But she knew that information before the Incident in New York, where your," he takes a deep breath, "roommate killed me."


You blink. "Well, you're not dead, and I'm a freak. Sounds like we are related."


Phil chuckled, leaning back in his chair, "Freak? Is that what the kids are calling them these days?" He shook his head. "You're not a freak."


"So, what do you super-secret secret agents call people who can do things they can't explain?" You huff, and conclude, "I'm a freak."


"You're 632P18," Phil's voice is barely a whisper. "At least, that's the code they call you by, after what Dr Connors did to you." He can't seem to look to you while he speaks, "While you were unborn, Audrey was subject to illegal experimentation. I was in Hawaii, had no idea. Nobody did, not until that Parker kid fought the guy after he turned into a lizard."


You've been silent the whole time. "632 –," you repeat.


"P18," Phil whispers. "Every powered individual is classified on a database. You showed signs of being powered when you were nine, in that art competition you won." You remember that competition. You had done a painting of a park bench, where a man and a woman with a cello sat under lamplight. You had won first place, and the hearts of your teachers who had urged you to follow the path toward being an artist. To think, it was because of some asshole playing God with you as a foetus. "I wish I could have done something."


You lean forward, placing a hand on his. "It's not your fault," you whisper. "It's just great to hear that I'm not going to spontaneously transform into a Ninja Turtle on the full moon."


"I'm sorry I missed being with you, growing up." Phil cracked a smile. "You're most defiantly my daughter."


You grin. "You're not bad, yourself, Dad," you swallow the lump in your throat, and add, "Wait. Does this mean I could be an Avenger?" From the next room, you hear something breaking, and a shout that sounds most defiantly from the mouth of Loki. You wince. "I think I should –,"


Phil nods. "I think that's best."


As you move to leave, you turn to your father. "Is it okay if I see you again?" You wonder.


"I'd love to," he nods, a smile taking over his face, and adds, "You can even bring your boyfriend in next time. I'm sure we'd be on better terms now he's not under the influence of an extra-terrestrial cube."


"Boyfriend?" you gape. "I mean – he's – we're –,"


"I've been here before," Phil Coulson grins. "You'll work it out."


The radio plays a mix of Elvis Presley and Tina Turner on the drive home. It takes almost four hours, with the traffic. You'd turned down the offer to take a plane home, because even if your father was some kind of superspy, his daughter was just a broke artist painting for a living, and the idea of flying with the Iron Man seemed a little daunting. Especially with Loki in tow.


You drive, listening to the radio, Loki scrawling over the newspaper crossword, and soon enough, you're back to the apartment in Hell's Kitchen.


Home.


"You've been awfully quiet on the ride home," Loki comments, unlocking the apartment door. "I think I can guess it."


You raise an eyebrow. "Go on, shoot."


"You've turned out to be mutated macaroni cheese," Loki tosses the keys into the pot by the door, flicks the lights on, along with the television. There's a rerun of Sabrina the Teenage Witch on, which Loki has seemed to take a liking to. "I'm right, aren't I?"


You shake your head, joining him on the couch. "Nope, just someone's science experiment. But that's not it. I'm...I don't really know what to say about it. I'm still me."


Silently, Loki turns the TV off, facing you. "If that's not what's bothering you, then what is?"


"Don't laugh," You take a deep breath, "Okay, I'm just going to go and say it. Do – do you want to be with me?"


"I am with you. On a couch, in Midgard." He pauses, and adds, "Oh, you meant like courting. Yes. I'll Netflix and chill with you."


You can't help it, but burst out laughing. "I'm not sure you know what that means..."


"I think I do." He grins, "I do not mind whether you are a scientific experiment, a human, a hero or the artist you are now. I think I have caught feelings for you, and if you'll have me, I'll be yours until the end of time."


You flick the TV back on so you can both watch the rest of Sabrina the Teenage Witch. "I love you too, Loki."

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