Loki is standing in the park looking vaguely shifty, which by itself is not especially unusual. Slightly more odd is the fact that he’s carrying that ridiculous inflatable hammer from Halloween, although at least he isn’t wearing the equally ridiculous costume that goes with it. Brian slows his pace, watching, and after twirling it a couple times, Loki thrusts the hammer skyward, just like Thor.

The lightning responds, but not like it does for Thor; instead it slams into the ground by Loki’s feet. He leaps back, dodges another strike, and takes a third one right to the skull that sends him staggering. As Brian starts forward in alarm, another bolt crashes down and flings Loki right off his feet into the snow.

“Loki, Jesus, are you okay?” Brian calls, hurrying toward him. Loki jerks partway upright and winces, his expression flickering through half a dozen emotions almost too fast to catch before closing back up into a mask. But “almost too fast” isn’t too fast for a spy who’s paying attention, and Brian recognizes shame touched with a little fear when it’s there to be seen.

“I’m fine,” Loki says tightly, which is not very convincing, because it doesn’t take a spy to notice the stiff way he’s holding himself as he sits up (carefully, gingerly). “You needn’t worry about the lightning,” he adds. “It only ever seems to strike me.”

“That’s...good to know, I guess,” Brian says. “Also, what the hell are you doing?”

“I should think that would be obvious.” Loki gets to his feet, just as carefully, and makes his way to the bench. He’s not limping, but his gait is measured enough that it’s obvious he’s in pain, and he hisses through his teeth a little as he sits down.

“Fine, so why are you trying to summon lightning with your inflatable hammer?”

Loki gives the hammer a sour look. “I shouldn’t even need the damnable thing. This should be simple.”

Brian sighs. “Does this, maybe, have something to do with the fact that we now have not one but two Thors on campus?”

“...possibly.”

“Not gonna lie, that still doesn’t really answer my original question.”

“I cannot lift her hammer either,” Loki says, “because of course some strange woman outside the house of Odin is more worthy of Mjolnir than I, and perhaps I cannot command the storm, but lightning—I should be able to do that. And yet.” He gestures at the hammer, scowling.

“Okay,” Brian says, “so maybe...stop? It’s okay to specialize in what you’re good at, you know, instead of thinking you have to be able to do everything. And I don’t care what Pym says, getting electrocuted can’t possibly be good for you.”

“I know that,” Loki says. “Thorita briefly stopped my heart with a supposedly accidental discharge, which even my brother has not managed, so I am well aware of the potential danger. In fairness to her, I was trying to poison her at the time, although she didn’t know it.” He cuts a glance at Brian with something that looks almost like embarrassment and then looks away, belatedly brushing the snow off his clothes. “It wouldn’t have killed her. The effects would have been...merely unpleasant. More of a test than anything else, really.”

“I actually wasn’t going to ask,” Brian says mildly, finally sitting down next to Loki. The bench is freezing, but he figures he can at least put up with it for a few minutes. “Not like I’ve seen you make a habit of killing people.”

“Hm,” Loki says, and shrugs. “At any rate, I thought it was past time I improved in this particular area, and if there is such a thing as building up a tolerance to electricity, that can only be to the good. Although one would imagine I would have already done so, growing up with a lightning-happy oaf for a brother.”

“Yeah, again, I don’t think exposing yourself to more lightning strikes is actually going to help.”

“Then I suppose it is well that I did not ask you.”

Brian sighs. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way—”

“Now there’s an auspicious beginning,” Loki mutters.

“Yeah, and probably also a self-fulfilling prophecy. I just can’t help noticing—you make this hilarious costume to take the piss out of Thor but then it gets you beat up in Hell because everybody there hates your brother, you think you have to prove yourself to Odin again, and the inflatable hammer dumps you on your arse when you try to fly and electrocutes you when you summon lightning. Not to mention Thor threw you into a tree the day he got there, and the new Thor—”

Loki jerks to his feet. “Are you quite finished enumerating the failures and weaknesses you have witnessed?”

“Not what I meant,” Brian says, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “Not at all what I meant. It just seems like whenever Thor’s around, or even if he’s not but you’re doing something that’s at all related to him, you end up getting hurt.”

Loki crosses his arms, his expression not even slightly mollified. “Is that so.”

“See, I can tell you think I’m still making a judgment here, and I’m not. I’m just telling you I’ve observed a pattern. Spies tend to do that. Well,” he adds, “I’m not judging you, anyway.”

“Elaborate,” Loki says. His tone hasn’t really changed, but his posture unbends very slightly, which Brian figures is a good sign.

He’s already gotten this far. “I don’t doubt that your brother loves you,” Brian says, “but he’s also kind of thoughtless and sometimes he treats you like shit, and that’s not your fault. Same thing with your dad. Neither of those problems are your job to fix, whether that’s by trying to act more like Thor or...something else.”

“Thor is what everyone wants,” Loki says, and then snaps his mouth shut like he didn’t mean to say it.

“Mate, I don’t know if you noticed, but I never hit on your brother,” Brian says. “He’s not really my type.”

Loki raises one eyebrow. “And you have a better solution for me, I am sure.”

Brian shrugs. “Gonna sound cheesy as hell, but yeah—spend less time trying to be like Thor and more time being yourself.” Easier said than done, of course, but he’s also gotten the impression it’s not the sort of thing anyone’s told Loki very often.

“Myself,” Loki says. “Indeed.” For a moment he’s silent, and then he asks abruptly, “Have you seen the beach?” His expression seems…carefully blank.

“Yeah, of course,” Brian says. “Haven’t spent a lot of time there, but it’s a little hard to miss.”

“That was the idea,” Loki says. “One of the ideas. Not that anything would have been easy to miss, at the time; this campus was much smaller, and far less busy. But it was meant to be…eye-catching. Inviting.” His gaze flicks toward Brian and away again. “In fact, let’s go visit, shall we? I find I am thoroughly tired of cold and snow for the time being.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Brian says, getting up. He’s happy enough to leave the concrete bench behind, and it’s not like he has anything better to do. Judging by the odd look on Loki’s face, this is important anyway, one way or another.

Loki kicks the inflatable hammer into the bushes as they pass it, and it obligingly goes squonk. The beach isn’t far, just on the other side of SHIELD HQ, and it looks even more incongruous now than usual, with sand spilling onto snow instead of grass. It’s not that cold on campus, even with the snow, but the temperature change when they step onto the beach is immediate and drastic—warm enough to be pleasant and comfortable without making Brian feel like he’ll melt if he doesn’t start shedding layers. In fact— “I know how hard Jan commits to her aesthetic, but it doesn’t seem hot enough for a bikini.”

“Well, no, it isn’t now,” Loki says, “because we’re both fully clothed. The ambient temperature adjusts itself based on the comfort level of any beachgoers. In the case of a significant difference—say, you wanted to sit here and drink tea, and the Bug-Woman wanted to flit around her sandcastle while scantily clad—the enchantment attempts to balance the competing desires.” He says it almost offhandedly, like it’s no big deal, and his expression turns defensive as Brian stares at him. “What?”

“I’ll be the first to admit I don’t know much about magic,” Brian says, “which is probably unforgivably sloppy of me at this point, but that sounds—complicated. Like, really complicated and difficult.”

“It took a great deal of study and effort, yes,” Loki says. “No doubt I could have spent my time on a more worthwhile endeavor, but—”

“Yeah, I guess,” Brian says, settling cross-legged on the beach mat. “But actually I just meant this is really impressive.”

Loki blinks at him, clearly thrown again, and for half a second his expression shifts toward something pleased before his lips twist and he looks away. “Yes, well, that was rather the point.”

“I like the wave pool,” Brian says. “And the lifeguard stand is a nice touch.”

“Do you know why I created this place,” Loki says. He is holding very still, too still, except for the fingers that keep twitching toward a fist.

“Nope,” Brian says, “but I’m guessing you don’t expect me to like it.”

Loki’s laugh is bright and false. “You’re a hero, aren’t you? Of course you won’t like it.”

“I’m a spy,” Brian corrects him. “There’s a difference. We tend to be a little more comfortable with grey areas than most people, as a rule.”

“Grey areas,” Loki says. “Hm.” He sits down too, but his arms are folded tightly across his chest, shoulders pulling inward. “It was a trap. I added another layer of enchantment to the sand so that anyone who came here would not want to leave, ever. And then I would freeze them in place so I could keep them and rule them forever. Bug-Woman was the only one to fall for it, and then Armor-Man and Widow-Woman ruined my plans with some sort of magic-dampening sunscreen, of all things, or I would have done it. So when you say my beach is impressive or that I should be myself, that is what you mean.”

Loki glares at him, chin raised, waiting for a response. It’s obvious he expects Brian to be disgusted or maybe horrified, and either way that he’ll lose any interest in Loki. But being a spy means Brian has a pretty damn good poker face, which gives him a few seconds to think instead of letting Loki catch a reaction and jump to an immediate conclusion.

“Well?” Loki says. “Have you nothing to say?” The mask is back, but the haughtiness he’s trying to project doesn’t quite hide everything else: anger, resignation, loss, a tiny bit of fear.

“When was this?” Brian asks.

Loki looks at him sideways. “Nearly a year ago, now. That is your question?”

“And it’s still here, which means Fury didn’t demand at minimum that you get rid of it, which also means it must be harmless now.”

“Yes, well, the enchantment proved useless thanks to my classmates’ meddling, so I removed it.”

“And instead of turning you into a smear on the pavement, Jan still hangs out here,” Brian muses, “sometimes with you, even though she knows you were trying to mess with her mind.”

Loki shrugs again, the movement stiff and jerky. “I would not dare try to comprehend the Bug-Woman’s thought processes.”

Brian makes a noncommittal noise, still thinking, and the more he looks at the pieces, the clearer the picture becomes. “You know,” he says finally, “there are easier ways to get people to hang out with you, if that’s what you want.”

Loki’s eyes narrow. “Were you not listening? I said I wanted to rule them, not— ‘hang out.’”

“I know what you said. But like I told you earlier, I look at patterns. What people say and do. So—there’s this whole thing with the beach. There’s Fury not doing anything about it, and Natasha and Tony and Jan still being friendly with you, more or less. There’s your Halloween strategy revolving around dancing and friendship, whatever you actually said about it. And most recently there’s this thing with the A-Force ladies, which I also noticed because, again, spy.”

“Oh,” Loki says in a tone of false cheer, “do you mean when I infiltrated their little group so I could take the Casket for my own nefarious purposes? If you are looking for evidence of my manipulations, then certainly—”

“No, actually, I mean when you planned to do that and then America told you to knock it off and just hang out and insult Malekith with her, and you did.”

“And how do you know I did not set aside that scheme for something worse?”

Brian shrugs. “I don’t. But here’s what I think: this whole beach thing, maybe you were sincere, but I think you knew somebody would figure it out and stop you, and you did it that way anyway because you couldn’t imagine anyone trusting you to act without ulterior motives or wanting to spend time with you. I mean, there’s also the part where you love making things twisted-up and complicated in general, but yeah, I think you want friends more than you want power.”

For a moment Loki’s face is white with fury and Brian’s pretty sure he can actually feel the temperature drop (possible, if the beach is responding to Loki’s mood, which is still a wild thought). He waits, keeping his own expression calm, with no hint of the worry that he’s misjudged the situation and pushed too far. It’s not very likely, considering how often his life literally depends on reading people correctly, but there’s a first time for everything.

And then Loki seems to deflate, his shoulders dropping as he looks away and forces a laugh. “You may say again that you are merely observing patterns, but if this is what you have seen, you must think me truly pathetic.”

Brian’s eyebrows go up. “When did I even remotely imply that?”

Loki shrugs, seeming very interested in the sand next to him. “You did not have to. What else would you call it?”

“Normal, maybe?” Brian says. “I know Asgard’s big on being macho and all, but people need other people. Sitting on a throne doesn’t change that. And anyway, if I haven’t been clear enough about it, I like spending time with you, and I want to keep doing it.”

Loki looks askance at him, searching his face for a lie, and Brian lets him, because in this he has nothing to hide. After a long moment he says, “And does it bother you, that I don’t always look like…this?”

“When you’re blue or when you’re a woman?”

“…either.”

Brian shrugs. “I’m gay, so, I probably don’t want to kiss you when you’re a girl. And superhuman healing doesn’t mean I like getting hurt, so probably ditto if your Jotun skin’s going to give me frostbite or something—which would suck, incidentally, because otherwise I think you’re pretty hot as a Frost Giant. But does it bother me that you’re a genderfluid Frost Giant? Of course not.” Loki’s expression doesn’t change, so Brian presses, “Does it bother you that I’m a gay British spy?”

Loki looks at him like he’s just sprouted a second head (or possibly something stranger, given how Avengers Academy has warped Brian’s definition of “normal”; it’s probably just a matter of time before they get a multi-headed student). “That’s absurd. Why would it?”

“Well, there you go then. Who you are doesn’t bother me; in fact I happen to like it, in case that isn’t obvious.”

Loki stares back at him, eyebrows pulling together; opens his mouth and shuts it again without saying a word. Brian just waits, letting him process—not that he expected such a simple statement to have that kind of effect, but if he didn’t already figure that a lot of Loki’s arrogance was empty posturing to cover a pretty poor self-image, now he’s sure of it. And it makes a certain amount of sense. Loki’s never given him very many details about his family life, but some of his offhand comments form a pattern too, one that’s only been reinforced by meeting Thor (and the new female Thor, for that matter, who isn’t even related but who already seems to have a more straightforward relationship with Odin than Loki does). It would do your head in a bit, growing up like that, knowing you could never measure up to the kind of example Thor represented, knowing that even the people who loved you didn’t really listen to you or try to understand you. Brian doesn’t doubt that Loki is genuinely a little shit, sometimes, but he can also imagine why someone might want to cultivate that kind of personality to define themselves in a way that is at least memorable, to force others to acknowledge their existence.

Loki looks away, finally, and forces a laugh. “Well, you do have good taste.”

“I like to think so,” Brian says. “For instance, you probably have the best hair on campus.”

“The competitive field is not particularly formidable,” Loki says, but Brian could swear he’s actually blushing a little, which is...kind of adorable, and he wants to see if he can make it happen again. Generally speaking, he’s pretty good at going after what he wants, so what the hell, might as well go for it. It’s almost the new year, after all.

“You know,” Brian says, “it’s a tradition here to kiss somebody at midnight to ring in the new year. We’ve got a few hours yet, but I was thinking we might...practice a little.”

“One can never be too prepared,” Loki agrees, his voice still light, but there’s a wariness in his eyes that suggests he’s still expecting this to go wrong, maybe for Brian to laugh and say he was just joking, of course he’s not interested in Loki when literally anyone else (but especially Thor) is available.

So Brian leans over and kisses him, first gently and then a little more thoroughly. Loki finally starts to relax and goes with it when Brian nudges his shoulder to get him to lie back on the mat. He deepens the kiss, and Loki’s hand comes up, tentative, to curl into the fabric of his blazer. It’s a pretty good kiss, even if Loki still feels a little tense.

“Oh right,” Brian says when he pauses for breath. “When you’re shapeshifting to look like Fury? I don’t especially want to make out with you then either. That would be weird and frankly a little disturbing.”

Loki does one of his near-silent laughs, finally relaxing. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, and tugs on Brian’s tie to pull him back down for another kiss.