meadowlarklogs | those who died are justified;

( it's august sixteenth, three in the fucking morning. an absolutely ridiculous time for most people, sure, but jason isn't most people, and nor is loki, right? and they've both got needs. needs they can help each other fulfill. and jason? he's shoving a hand into the open window, pulling it open just enough to fit his goddamn body through the opening. it's been a bit since he's shaved, there's stubble fucking everywhere, but who cares about that.

when he's here for pancakes.

boots land against the ground with a soft thump, and while he can be stealthy when he wants to be, jason doesn't try. his footsteps resound loudly on his way into the kitchen, the clank of silverware loud as he opens a drawer, pulls out a fork and knife.

look this is serious business. )

[ even if Loki has to succumb to things like sleep now, he doesn't always heed the call. when he can't sleep he spends his nights reading—anything he can find: books, blogs, newsfeeds, sometimes he spends his days trolling random forums on his neural implant and thinks about how ridiculously easy it is and how much he misses his StarkPhone. small things, really.

both Thor and Loki come and go as they please, like true Asgardian princes, and Loki's sprawled backward in his bed while Thor is missing—a new job, or drinking, or fighting, or whatever Thor manages to do in his spare time. there are lots of things that he must miss, so Loki leaves him to his distractions.

Jason tumbles through the window like a force of nature, and Loki sighs and hums lowly. there's demanding footfalls and the rustle of silverware like he owns the place. Loki almost regrets leaving the window open, even if he's glad for the company. ]

Some of us have jobs we need to get to in the morning.

[ he calls from the loft above when Jason makes a particularly clanky noise.

also it's Friday, so he doesn't. have a job. in the morning. ]

( jason works, when he feels like it. a few games of poker there, a fight here, various nonsensical underground bullshit he can get away with. he's. been careful with his body, lately; avoids fights, because any complications will only set him back even further, and no one wants to deal with that. least of all himself.

but three in the morning is a perfectly normal time for nocturnal creatures to be up and about, and bats are by nature, creatures of the night. jason never tried to be anything different and has no intention of starting now.

utensils between fingers, jason shoves open the fridge. grabs onto the first beer he finds and sifts through the shelves searching for. . something. god knows what, but he's determined to find it. )

Hey, Lo. You busy?

( obviously ignoring commentary about sleep. sleep is for the weak, psh. )

[ there's a loud, dramatic, disgruntled sigh. ]

Yes. [ his tone says no. ] What are you doing?

[ from above, Loki hangs over the incline of the loft where his bed is, hanging his arms over the edge and watching Jason go through all of his things and helping himself to whatever's there. per the norm.

it's hot outside, and Loki looks lazy. it's hard to get a good look at him from above, but he's somewhat disheveled and definitely in his PJs. the light below goes on, most likely from his neural implant. ]

Thought I'd come by for lunch. ( at three in the morning. the pointy bits of the fork get put into his mouth, knife dropped onto a counter as jason closes the fridge, turns away from it and starts climbing those stairs up to the top level, one at a time. if loki's going to be lazy, fine!! he'll just. . climb up after him. no big deal. )

Think I can talk you into making pancakes again? I can cook a mean mac n' cheese but pancakes, man. Always burn 'em or undercook 'em.

[ look, he's not busy at all, he's just mostly rolling around in a mess of sheets like the bed's a lot bigger than it is. when Jason comes up, he turns over on his stomach, thinking about what would properly talk him into making him pancakes. ]

Well, if you want to talk me into cooking, I'm sure you can make a good argument for it.

[ it means he's up, certainly, and he's listening. it means he'll probably do it, but he also wants a little entertainment. he's sure that Jason can deliver, as he usually does. ]

I came all this way, 'cause I knew you'd have something laying around in here somewhere. .

( low and easy, as he makes his way over to the bed and--promptly flops over onto the bed, half on top of loki himself. )

Pretty please? I'll give you anything you want.

( no he won't, but within reason. )

[ the bed creaks under their combined weight and Loki sinks into the mattress half-beneath his weight. with a free hand he runs his fingers back through his hair to push it out of his face. ]

Anything I want?

[ he half turns to face him, propping his elbow on the bed, and resting his palm on his chin. ]

No restrictions apply?

Within reason.

( pulling the fork out of his mouth finally and. holding that in a hand as he grins up to loki, shows his teeth. )

Might decide it's not worth pancakes, but I am very hungry. .

[ with a curious, neutral expression, Loki looks him up and down, as if the gears in his head were turning toward something horrible and scheming. a huff comes out through his lips, overly dramatic and exasperated, and he reaches out to push gently on his chest to turn him on his back (testing for his bandages, and just how much he might feel like being defiant). ]

You're playing high-risk today, I see.

[ that's a nice, smug look, and Loki's already given in, but Jason doesn't have to know that. ]

( defiance is something jason has always, always fallen into. he defies everything, every bit of control someone tries to place over him, every stupid rule, but this? loki can push him around all he wants, jason is into it. it's easy to fall onto his back, givjng a small oof in response. there aren't any gauze bits strapped to his chest, butterfly bandages replacing stitches that had been present before. he's healing, it's--clean. )

I'm always playing with high risks.

( kind of his thing, actually. )

What do you want?

[ and so Loki does, re-arranging them until he's perched over him on all fours. there's a tilt of his head and a scheming little smile on his lips, like there's a little secret that he has that Jason doesn't know about yet. ]

Simple, for now ... I want you to come back later this evening. You don't get breakfast unless you stay the night. But I'll switch it around for you this time.

[ there's a tease in his voice, and one hand spreads over the center of his chest, dark nails tracing where the wound would be over his shirt. he's mindful of the empathy. ]

( is this a booty call. this sounds like a booty call. loki isn't shoving on his chest so the touch is fine. there's no swelling or wet spots; the skin has patched itself up enough, and jason definitely does not look uncomfortable in the least. )

Mm. . ( a quiet, thoughtful hum. jason raises a hand up, moves to slide fingers into loki's hair and trace a thumb along his cheekbone. he's wearing gloves, soft fake leather over fingers to keep empathy bond links from being a hassle. and it's more comfortable to climb up buildings with something to protect his fingers, thanks. )

Guess I could free up my schedule for you.

[ this is absolutely a booty call. the smile on Loki's lips curls up just a little more at the corners, his eyelashes falling to frame bright eyes. he leans just a little into his palm, looking pleased. ]

Good—[ he makes it sound more than good. ]—then it seems that we've agreed. [ the fingers draw down his middle, over his stomach and dipping into his navel. ] Pancakes it is. Don't forget that fork of yours.

[ Loki turns his hips to slip the other leg around him, sitting at the edge of the bed. one arm lifts above the other, and he stretches his back out like a cat. it's time to get up. ]

( hands, hands everywhere and jesus fucking christ, loki. jason arches into the hand, grunts low--and then loki is gone, moving over him and stretching himself out. definitely cute. he watches for a moment, fingers wrapped around his fork. sits himself up wit a soft huff, fingers shoving back his own hair. )

I got it. I'm not gonna leave it in bed.

( not today. today the fork comes with. )

You can get me over here 's often as you wanna, if pancakes are on the table.

[ if Jason leaves a fork in the bed, Loki's going to be poking him with it later. that's how these things go. there's a long yawn and he's getting to his feet, willing his legs to work so he can head down the stairs and to the kitchen. ]

You're here all the time, anyway. I won't devalue breakfast foods by offering it to you all the time.

[ he's in a pair of slouchy pants and a loose black tank top (it's still hot outside). there are bare feet where there are usually stripy socks, and his toes are painted as nicely as his fingers are. he trails down the stairs with a yawn. ]

Besides, isn't there something about today? Hm—a Midgardian tradition, perhaps?

( the loft is nice. it's a story higher but the floor plan is open, there's plenty of room to jump. jason stands on the edge for a moment. looks like he's considering it.

then grabs onto the edge with both hands, does a showy handstand before curling his body down over the ledge (fork still in hand) and drops down onto the bottom floor. does his best to beat loki down, for fun. )

Not one I can think of.

[ he does beat Loki down, and Loki takes a little skip around him to begin rifling through the cabinets for the right boxes. ]

Woe is the day where the god of lies doesn't believe you.

[ there's a little knowing tone to his voice as he heads to the fridge.

the light in the kitchen is on, illuminating the counter and the stovetop. the window is lit up with the lights from the city, which doesn't seem to know how to sleep. the sun won't be up for another hour or two, yet. ]

Wow, that's harsh.

( he has a feeling someone spilled. not that it matters too much anyway; loki moves around him and jason follows after another moment, leans a hip back against the kitchen counter as loki peeks his head into the fridge. waits mildly patiently for pancakes. )

It's not a day I celebrate, at least.

[ someone absolutely spilled, but Loki doesn't look like he's going to throw anyone (see: Kate) under the bus just yet. maybe later, but definitely not just yet. he looks bedroom-eyed and thoughtful as Jason speaks, and he can get it: his own birth wasn't the most monumental occasion. out of everything that he'd like to celebrate, he probably wouldn't celebrate it, either. ]

Ah—as much as most any occasion is worth a good party, some are heavier than others, I suppose. Lucky for me, they don't keep a mortal calendar on the icy tundra of Jotunheim. I'd offer a coin for your thoughts. [ Loki pauses, makes a face. ] Or a credit, I suppose.

[ it's not demanding if Jason doesn't want to talk about it, but it's curious, nonetheless. they have time before the pancakes are done, and the mood is still lazy.

out comes a bowl, a hand blender, and a cheap metal spoon. with the directions on the back of the box already memorized, he goes about measuring and mixing. ]

( why does everyone want him to talk about his feelings, he hates this so much. but whatever. jason stays out of loki's way but close by still, rolls his eyes as if it's so much trouble, having to share personal deets. whatever. )

Family wasn't big on celebrating much of anything when I was a kid. There were some good years. ( tickets stolen off of an old couple, a few other boosted items that made their way to jason. thinking about it just--reminds him of those letters. of his mother. ) I . . didn't think much of it, before. ( going from seven to eight, ten to eleven. when you live under a dining room table that shit doesn't seem important at all. ) There were things after I was taken in by Haf's old man. Cakes, new gadgets. Nice pair of shoes.

( he's purposely giving half answers. loki isn't stupid enough not to catch on, but. )

But it's just another day. Nothing real special about it. I'm more interested in your origin story.

[ it's curiosity about the mortal realm as much as it is about Jason. there's a spark of amusement that twitches at the corners of his lips as Jason evades what he doesn't want to talk about—it's obvious, but Loki doesn't seem to intent on pushing. when he feels like talking, he does. ]

Gifts. [ hm. he follows up with: ]

There are lots of those. So many that I'm not even sure I remember it correctly, anymore.

[ its truer than Jason knows. ]

( jason opens up easy but only when it's not specifically asked for. he's happy to chat, bitch when something calls for it. but his birthday had never been something important, and he doesn't intend to make a Thing of it now. )

Tell me one? I wanna hear it.

( but he's still nosy as fuck when it comes to others. )

[ the pan warms up and Loki whips the pancake mixture thoughtfully, as if picking through this myth and that story to cobble things together into something meaningful. some are more true than others, and others are true only in caution, and not in tale. there are others still that are still fresh, and weave one thread into another.

Jason wanting to know was good. it helped him, in some ways, spread the story of who he had become. ]

They all start the same. They say that I was born in Jotunheim, the land of constant storm and harsh snow, so buried in ice that those lost among its tundras were said to be scattered beneath the very ground that was tread. Those that lived there were giants, Frost Giants, specifically. They were very large, hard folk, and Loki was very small. No one ever heard of a small giant, so in a place where strength was prized, he was not the most desired of offspring. And Loki's father—biological, as the mortals would say—Laufey, was not the kindest of people.

[ there's a little shrug as he spoons some batter into the pan. it hisses. the story itself is something that he's partially removed from, inked in so many books that it's known to many. ]

After that they split, details differing. There's one that says that there was a particularly fated battle between Asgard and Jotunheim, one where a child Loki cunningly tricked his father into a battle with Odin, the not-then-yet-All-Father, and was he was slain on Odin's blade. Others say it was Laufey who meant to prove himself by slaying Odin, and Loki was left fatherless. Whatever it was, the outcome was the same: Laufey died that day, and Odin took Loki as his ward.

[ a pause, curious. ]

Adoption was a lot easier a few millennia ago.

( he listens, quietly. jason's a shit but he does know when to shut his mouth--sometimes, when he feels like it. the story itself is entirely different from anything he knows of norse mythology, but that makes sense too, doesn't it? they're from different sides of the world. norse mythology especially is a hard thing to track down exacts for, considering most their shit from way back then traveled by word of mouth. like one huge ass game of telephone. )

So we both had shit fathers, then were adopted by still shit, but slightly better ones.

( right? is he getting this down right. that sounds close enough. )

Never would've pegged you for a frost giant considering, ( an appreciative glance over loki's form, taking in curves. ) Not that it matters any. First girl I ever kissed was made of shadows.

loki. august 16

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