The Stepford Brit [Loki]

[Tamiel]

[googlefont="Amatic SC"][googlefont="Loved by the King"]

i'm one part saint and two parts sinner
and the last part is still on the line

logan holloway

~~~~~~~~~~

Tamiel had been back in Chicago for three days now, and it actually felt pretty good.

Things were going well with Mickey, better than he'd anticipated. They'd really hit it off, and they were texting regularly, but he had other things that he definitely needed to attend to. He'd moved in—the owner of the house he was "renting" from (or, more accurately, renting a room from) seemed absolutely delightful and charming, though he couldn't put his finger on why—and he'd already notified Fy that he'd returned, though he'd also said he might be quite busy with the whole "moving in, meeting the owner, et cetera" thing.

For now, though, he was quite content to lie down on his bed and relax a bit. Things had been stressful lately, and it was... good to finally be able to unwind a little. He was certain that his new roommate was due to enter at any minute. After all, he had been quite busy up until this point, or at least that was what Tamiel had discerned from their sparse interactions, but he was coming home today and planned to be there for "some time," as he'd said himself.

There was something off about him that the fallen angel couldn't quite place, but he didn't want to press it yet. That would be rude, more than likely, and Tamiel didn't want to start being rude or strange the minute he'd walked in. He opened up the Twitter app on his phone, curious to see if he'd gotten any new messages. Then it hit him.

This owner, this man that seemed charming and delightful, had responded to him on Twitter once. He hadn't quite taken it seriously at the time, because, after all, how many times do you take a man with the alleged name "Loki Laufeyjarson" seriously on Twitter? They were all over the place. But now that he thought about it... no one else had seemed to know where he was going as far as addresses went except Fy, whom "Loki" had also interacted with according to his Twitter. Had she set him up? Was this all a joke? Or was it something worse, an attempt to get rid of him?

Tamiel rolled off of the bed and made a dash toward the front door, but stopped and watched as it opened directly in front of him.

~~~~~~~~~~

word count :: 397 ::
notes :: ho snap ::
tagged :: Loki Laufeyjarson ::
outfit :: here ::
mood :: terrified ::

[Loki Laufeyjarson]

WORD COUNT [ 489 ] MOOD [ lol ] OUTFIT [ click! ] MUSIC [ Princess Mononoke soundtrack ] TAG [ Tamiel ] NOTES [ "i am as pure as freshly fallen snow" ]

The assignment, of sorts, had been a relatively simple one: keep the demon under lock and key. Anything else added on had been Loki's idea. Thor had come to Loki in need of his assistance, and Loki, having been used to that sort of thing for a long time and really not having anything better to do for the next month or so, had agreed. Apparently, one of Thor's new followers had wanted this man – Logan Holloway, or Tamiel, depending on which circles you frequented – out of her hair for a good long while. Loki didn't know why; he hadn't bothered asking. Honestly, he didn't really care. He just knew he was going to have fun with this. He'd noticed Tamiel a while back, actually, back when he'd first returned to Midgard. He'd found the writer's books curious little things, good for entertainment when he really and truly had nothing to do. And when he'd seen what the writer had looked like, well... Let's just say that it had only elevated his opinion of the man even further. He really was quite handsome. Loki had been out gathering “supplies” – a voice recorder, a video camera, some rope that he had been surprised to learn he didn't already have, a couple of DVDs for when he wanted to watch some movies – as well as some groceries, since he assumed that the two of them didn't necessarily need to eat but liked to enough that they'd be uncomfortable if they didn't have them. Even if the cashier had had issues not staring at a man in a midriff-baring shirt and denim booty shorts, he'd had to put up with it, since Loki had bought enough food to last the two of them a month. He didn't intend on leaving for anything but an emergency once he'd started. But when he stepped in, no less than five bags on each arm, he was surprised to see that Tamiel was in a hurry to leave. The redhead perked a brow, watching the demon warily but making it look as if he was just curious. Tamiel hadn't caught on so soon, had he? Loki had been rather careful, even considering the fact that he'd tweeted him a few times. Just to be sure, he gave Tamiel a crooked, tattered grin, walking over to the kitchen counter to lay down his load. “You're not leaving, are you?” he asked in his lilting accent, looking as innocent as if he wasn't the god of deceit as he slid his sunglasses away from his eyes to rest on the top of his head. He'd decided to play on Tamiel's nature; that man really was too polite for his own good. “I have a lot of groceries, I was really hoping you could help me bring them in. I'm afraid I have let my cabinets and fridge get too empty.” post template by Tony

[Tamiel]

[googlefont="Amatic SC"][googlefont="Loved by the King"]

i'm one part saint and two parts sinner
and the last part is still on the line

logan holloway

~~~~~~~~~~

"You're not leaving, are you?"

Shit. He sounded so... naive, and with so many groceries on the counter and likely even more in the car... Tamiel couldn't just leave. Well, he could, but he'd never feel right about it again on the off chance that this had, in fact, not been Loki.

"Of... of course," he said, nodding slightly and following Loki back out to line his own arms with bags. "I just... I'm a little worried. Something's made me quite nervous about my current situation." He didn't really want to make a big deal of it outside—hell, he didn't really want to make a deal of it at all—but he figured it could at least wait until he was back inside the house. "I'll wait until we're back in the house, though."

As he dropped off the sacks on the counter, Tamiel reached into his pocket for his phone. "You see, um, I got a tweet some time ago, and... well." The icon was very similar to the face of the man in front of him, and he turned the screen around to demonstrate. "Loki Laufeyjarson. Looks extraordinarily like you, has interacted with me before... and has ties to Fyrelia. I find it very difficult to believe you're not the same person, especially with the whole Locke Lyesmith thing. It's a little too close. If you are Loki, I don't have a problem with that. It just worries me because of how much power you'd have if you were."

He took a breath, then pressed on in his accusation. "I know you've given me the ability to have a place to stay, and I really appreciate that. But it seems very evident that something is up, and if it's a plot to kill me, I'm going to tell you now that it's not going to work out particularly well for anyone involved."

Tamiel tucked his phone back into his pocket, his feet in a slightly wide stance, as though preparing himself for a blow, when he noticed the rope in one of the bags. "I understand that you enjoy sexual endeavors. If that was what you wanted, you should have just asked to begin with." There was an awful lot of food, which made sense if Loki had let his fridge get too empty, but there was something very off about one of the bags. He picked up the first object from the top: a voice recorder. Tamiel fell silent for a long moment. He somehow doubted that it'd be used for any casual radio shows—no, it was one of the main counters to the Divine Speech.

"What is this for?" he asked, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

~~~~~~~~~~

word count :: 451 ::
notes :: he done did it now ::
tagged :: Loki Laufeyjarson ::
outfit :: here ::
mood :: tense ::

[Loki Laufeyjarson]

WORD COUNT [ 605 ] MOOD [ LOOK AT THAT HAND! ] OUTFIT [ click! ] MUSIC [ LotR soundtrack and also my boyfriend snoring ] TAG [ Tamiel ] NOTES [ do you ever just... look at your hand. like really look at it. ]

“Thank you, dear,” Loki purred when Tamiel agreed to help. He seemed rather cat-like, really – playful, amused, and downright predatory. Even concealing his intentions, there was a hungry gleam in the god's eye. His trap was baited, and he knew that his mouse was walking right into it. Of course, he could feel the doubt set in as the demon began to unravel his identity. The Trickster tilted his head, curious, as if he was confused as to how Tamiel had even come to that conclusion. In his mind, however, he was reeling, trying to come up with a way to defuse the situation, to get them back to square one so that they could “trust” one another again. He couldn't have everything be foiled, not now. He'd promised his nephew he would keep the demon on a leash until everything had blown over. Considering the bad blood between him and the rest of the Aesir, he intended to keep his relationship with Thor clean, and so he intended to keep every single promise he made. No tricks. No lies. No loopholes. No fuckups. He'd be damned if a demon ruined that. The solution to his problem was a simple one, of course. He had to continue to insist his innocence. If nothing else, it would plant the seed of doubt in Tamiel's head; doubt, once it began to sprout, had a habit of overgrowing and choking out everything else. “I am not Loki, my friend,” he laughed, as if the idea was absurd. “Loke... it is not a common name, where I am from, not like Ashley or Chris here, but it is a name in use, nonetheless. It is the name my parents chose for me. I just go by Locke here because it is less likely to be questioned.” He gave Tamiel a crooked grin, stepping closer to him, even such a simple movement more graceful than it had any right to be. “And what can I say? I have fun with my name, on the social media. Can you blame me?” That was good. That would be good. Tamiel was trusting; Tamiel wanted to trust people. The doubt would take a hold of him, and everything would be okay again until Loki was sufficiently prepared to get him under his sway. But then the demon had to go and fuck it up again. "What is this for?" He'd picked up the damned tape recorder. Loki had to fight to keep himself from scowling; in one fell swoop, everything was falling apart once more. But no matter. He could fix this – he could always fix things, with a bit of elbow grease. The trickster smiled, crookedly. He went from cat to snake in an instant, and he chuckled again, reaching up to brush his braid behind his shoulder. “Alright,” he said, with a shrug. “You caught me, then, bravo. You were right. I am who you thought I was. “Loki Laufeyjarson. At your service.” Loki offered out his hand to shake. And as soon as Tamiel reached for it, he grabbed him by the wrist. He quickly swiveled himself until he was behind his prey, chin resting gently on the other man's shoulder; he'd twisted Tamiel's wrist so that the other man's eyes were resting square on the palm of it. There was a soft hissing in the air, an almost rattling, so quiet that it was hard to really perceive. “Now,” Loki crooned, willing some subtle magic into his voice, “I want you to just... look at your hand.” post template by Tony

[Tamiel]

[googlefont="Amatic SC"][googlefont="Loved by the King"]

i'm one part saint and two parts sinner
and the last part is still on the line

logan holloway

~~~~~~~~~~

Even as he'd been walking in, Tamiel had felt a creeping dread in his stomach. Perhaps it had been why he'd made the accusation in the first place. He felt like he was a prey animal, being toyed with before it was killed.

Loki's—or, rather, Locke's—rebuttal had made him start to doubt himself. Maybe it was just a name. He hadn't ever shown any supernatural powers, after all, except maybe the power to make Tamiel trust him if that could even be considered a superpower. Tamiel wanted to believe him so badly, and he almost did, but the tape recorder shattered that immediately. There was only so much one could say to defend themselves when confronted with someone's very specific weakness.

He should have felt proud that he'd figured it out, that he'd gotten the Liesmith himself to admit his identity. But he still felt like Loki had a trick up his sleeve, one that he wouldn't be able to wiggle his way out of. He was a bird with its wings clipped, with no escape route, and Loki was something that was about to swallow him whole. Whether it was a cat or a larger bird or a snake or whatever it was ended up irrelevant. He was a bird in a very large cage with a predator, and he was going to die.

He wanted to trust Loki, still, even knowing who he was. So he reached forward to take the god's hand, keeping his guard up all the while.

Loki was gone. His hand was twisting in front of his face. Loki was behind him? His stomach was dropping like a stone, but it wasn't necessarily unpleasant. Tamiel was supremely confused, and more than a touch scared. His hand twitched gently. He thought he heard Loki telling him something about looking at his hand. He figured that was probably a reasonable course of action, considering that Loki knew what was going on and he didn't. His eyes roamed over the creases and differences in skin tone, taking in everything that he could. It was strange. He didn't feel like he'd ever really looked at his hands before.

He felt his shoulders go slack, and his body started feeling a little heavy. Leaning back into Loki's pseudo-embrace slightly, Tamiel allowed himself to relax. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words never made it to other areas within his brain, let alone all the way down to his mouth. His jaw stayed relaxed, and his lips parted a little. He felt... quite good, actually. The dread was gone. He felt very secure with Loki. Something told him that he shouldn't have, but the thought was quieted almost immediately by something he couldn't place. He did know that he'd come up with the idea of trusting Loki on his own, but he wasn't certain why it didn't feel as contested as his thoughts might have usually been. His neck relaxed, and his head made gentle contact with Loki's own.

A tiny part of him wanted to ask what Loki was doing, but he felt like any words might break the pleasant feeling, so he remained silent. Without being fully conscious of it, however, he sent his feeling of tentative and gentle trust to Loki so that both parties would be well and truly aware of how Tamiel was feeling. It wasn't so much an "I trust you" as it was an "I trust you deeply, but only until you prove that I shouldn't." The lies that Loki had just woven didn't cross his mind at all—after all, between two liars, the truth in one's words didn't have much to do with trust at all.

Tamiel felt a little sleepy, and blinked a few times. His eyelids were feeling heavy. It had felt like an eternity since he'd started looking at his hand, but he knew in some sense that this had all happened over the course of a few seconds. His mind was racing, he supposed. That wasn't important.

What was important was whatever Loki planned to tell him next.

~~~~~~~~~~

word count :: 682 ::
notes :: tam is still not wearing a damn shirt ::
tagged :: Loki Laufeyjarson ::
outfit :: here ::
mood :: calm, drowsy ::