Chapter Text
Sometimes I hate every single stupid word you say
Sometimes I wanna slap you in your whole face
There’s no one quite like you
You push all my buttons down
I know life would suck without you
At the same time I wanna hug you
I wanna wrap my hands around your neck
You’re an asshole
But I love you
And you make me so mad I ask myself
Why I’m still here
Or where could I go?
You’re the only love I’ve ever known
But I hate you
I really hate you
So much I think it must be true love
True love
It must be true love
Nothing else could break my heart like
True love
True love
It must be true love
No one else can break my heart like you!
-“True Love” by Pink
“I want you.”
Those were the first words that the God of Mischief ever said to you. Had you known back then what would transpire, you may not have continued standing there in front of your desk with your arms crossed, entertaining a Norse god for the most ludicrous reason imaginable.
His candidacy for president of the United States.
“Do you?” you asked in a decidedly bored tone, even though you were still reeling from the fact that a literal god was standing in front of you.
“Oh, yes,” Loki said in that spun-silk voice, a smirk crossing his lips, his dark lashes low over those practically glowing blue-green eyes of his. You knew a snake when you saw one and Loki was no different. He’d slithered his way onto your calendar through no shortage of tricks to get your attention. You’d put him off for as long as possible before it finally hit Friday afternoon and you decided to hear him out since he’d been chasing after you for close to two weeks. After all, why even entertain him other than to be polite? You weren’t insane enough to take this gig. Hell, you weren’t sure there was anyone on Earth—or Midgard, as the Asgardians called it—to take on this impossible task. “You can do things for me that no other woman can.”
“Phrasing,” you said automatically out of habit, arching an eyebrow.
“Forgive me. I meant nothing untoward. You come highly recommended and I need you most desperately for my plight.”
“You need Jesus,” you told him, finally turning around and walking back to your seat at your desk. “The answer is no, Loki. Thank you for stopping by.”
“Oh, come now,” the serpent said as he walked over to your desk. “Let’s dispense with the theatrics, shall we?”
“What theatrics?” you asked as you logged back in and started checking your emails again.
“We both know that you are a woman of quality,” he said, resting his big hands on top of the desk. He’d been very strategic about his appearance, too, possibly to try and snag you that way. He wore an Armani suit the color of charcoal with a black tie and dress shoes, an expensive watch from Hugo Boss on his wrist, bright blue cufflinks winking at you from under his sleeves. “So of course you will not say yes the first time. This is a courtship, of a kind. I must entice you into accepting this position with my campaign and I am perfectly prepared to wine and dine you.”
You leveled a flat look at him. “Loki, you’re wasting your time. There is nothing I can do that would get you to the White House. You’re an alien god. Why the hell would anyone vote for someone they can’t possibly relate to?”
Loki snorted. “As if that has stopped the people of your world from running for office in any way.”
You bit your bottom lip to stop a smile. He wasn’t wrong. “That may be true, but you’re overselling my abilities. I can’t possibly make half the nation vote for you.”
“You’re being too modest,” he said, clucking his tongue. “And I know that because of Robert Blakely.”
“What about him?”
“Before he hired you, he was in fifth place in the polls. Then you worked your magic and he won by a landslide. It barely took you three months to catapult him from loser to the underdog to the contender. What makes you think the same cannot be done for me?”
“For one, you’re posh,” you said, sitting back in the chair and finally regarding him seriously. “Posh candidates always have an uphill climb because it’s the middle class and the lower class that prop up most of society, not the rich. The rich hoard wealth more often than not, so you’d immediately be pegged as elite. Then there’s the fact that while you are a citizen now, you’re still mostly new to this version of American society. There are so many facets of our society that you won’t understand from a personal standpoint, which is another turn off for voters. People will ask you questions and you’ll draw a blank simply because you’re a thousand years old and comparatively speaking, you’ve been on Earth a short amount of time. How could you possibly know what’s best for these people? You don’t know them.”
“The road to the White House is not a short one,” he countered. “It takes a minimum of a year to prepare, and frankly, most of your candidates are groomed for it in decades prior, so yes, there is certainly an uphill climb involved, but I do not think it would hold me back for long. At first, yes, it would seem absurd and ridiculous, but that is what your job is as a campaign manager. You would teach the people about me. You would show them my strengths and the areas in which I would be a great ruler.”
“But that’s just it, Loki,” you said firmly. “You’re used to Asgard. To a monarchy. That’s not how things work in America. If you were president, there are about a thousand people telling you what to do and how to do it and everyone is pretty much on your ass at all times. It’s not like being king.”
“I wouldn’t know,” he said with a sour look. “Seeing as Thor is the one who will ascend to the throne instead of me.”
You took a deep breath and tried to measure your voice when you replied. “And that’s the other reason I don’t want to do this, Loki.”
He folded his arm. “What reason is that, pet?”
“I’ve known men like you my entire life.”
Loki smirked. “There are no men like me.”
“There are always men like you. You don’t want to help. You want your ego catered to. You want to say that you stood in arguably the most powerful office on the planet and took it like a man. This isn’t about helping anyone but you, Loki.”
“Tut, tut, my darling. You’ve got me all wrong. This isn’t simply a way for me to rule since Asgard will never be mine. You are right—I am a thousand years old.”
He then leaned on the desk again, his tone finally sincere. “And do you truly think that in the thousand years that I have lived, I learned nothing?”
For once, you didn’t have a retort. It was, after all, a salient point. He noted that you were listening to him and kept going. “I can show this country all manner of things that would improve the lives of its citizens. I can be patient. I can be loyal. I can be understanding. I can lead. I can listen. I know all the things that you think of me thanks to the papers and whatnot, but there is more to me than a trickster god. I know that I can help people if I do this on a scale that is far more satisfying to me than what I am currently doing. I want to do this for more than simply my own ego.”
You considered that. “How much of this is because you want to show up Thor and Odin?”
Loki gave you a long stare. “About thirty-five percent.”
The flatness in his tone made you chuckle. You did appreciate a dry wit and you did know he had one. “I don’t understand why you feel I would be a good fit. We’d be oil and water. Water and potassium.”
“Oh, there is no need for you and I to like each other. We would simply need to work together.”
“But that’s my point,” you insisted. “Working with you would drive me up the fucking wall. You’re infuriating me right now and you haven’t even signed a contract. How the hell do you expect me to work with you for a year or longer and not want you kill you every chance I get?”
His smirk widened and those sea-green eyes gleamed madly. “I prefer my women to want to kill me anyway. Makes things more fun.”
You glared. “I assure you I am not interested in being your woman.”
He chuckled and held up a hand in supplication. “I’m merely teasing you, darling. You and I are indeed combative enough to fight like cats and dogs if we worked together, but can you not see past it? Can you not see the picture I am painting? In fact, that’s an apt comparison.”
Loki spread his arms. “I am your Sistine Chapel and you are my Michelangelo. I would be the greatest accomplishment of your entire career. Think of the doors that would open if you successfully got me to the White House. You could write your own ticket for the rest of your life. No door would be closed to you.”
“I’m content with my current workload.”
“Lies,” he said, grinning. “I can see it in your eyes, love. You’re thinking it over. You know I’m right. You know that if you say yes, then you will skyrocket to an unforeseen level of success in your career, and we both know that ambition is what drives you. After all, who else would put up with politicians for so long? An ambitious woman is precisely who I need at my side.”
“Uh-huh,” you said frostily. “And we’re just going to pretend like you’re not going to attempt to seduce me in the meantime.”
“I resent that implication. I am a perfect bloody gentleman. I would not force my attentions upon you. Now, should you want them on your own—”
“I assure you I wouldn’t,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I’m not stupid, Loki. Don’t treat me like I am.”
“I would never imply that you lack intelligence. Very well. If you said yes, then I would not focus any romantic attention on you unless it was reciprocated. Fair enough?”
He just couldn’t say the damn words. No wonder you were telling him no. “Not really. I appreciate your enthusiasm, but this relationship would be a disaster. And if you lose, what would you do then? I can’t imagine a thousand year old Norse god isn’t a sore loser, especially considering what I know about you, Thor, and Odin from the papers.”
“I would not retaliate if I were to lose. You know better. What other reasons have you?”
“You’re dangerous. You have a volatile temper. I’m supposed to believe that you’d be in a debate with another candidate and not lose your temper? I highly doubt it.”
“I am a prince, remember? I know etiquette like the back of my hand. I am more than certain that none of these Midgardians can get beneath my skin.”
You sighed. He wasn’t hearing you. You decided to take a risk. “Okay, and what if someone brings up the fact that Thor is ascending to the throne instead of you and that you were banished here for meddling with his coronation ceremony? That’s a touchy subject. Hell, your brother in general is a touchy subject. How do I know you won’t blow up at the people who bring it up? Because they will.”
“I can stay cool under pressure. My actions led me to be banished to Midgard. I have accepted it and decided to move beyond it.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “Look at me, Loki.”
He lowered his head, his eyes boring into yours. “I am looking at you, pet.”
“If you do this, then your entire immortal life will be under a microscope for everyone to see,” you told him a low, deadly serious tone. “If you have ever done a single thing wrong, someone will be more than happy to tell the entire world about it. Hell, some people will just gaslight you to make you lose composure on camera so it’ll go viral and make them money and get them views. Some people will just invent stories about you to get their fifteen minutes of fame. You think you understand what it’s like being famous in America because you’re a god, but you don’t. It’s incredibly intense. They’re going to rip apart everything about you and your family and your lineage just to see if you can withstand it. This is more than just a bid to be president, Loki. This is going to be a trial by fire for you. They will test you again and again and again, and if you somehow make it through all that and do get into the White House, then it’s even worse. Every second of every day, someone will be telling you what to do, what to say, and how to look. You won’t be king. You won’t be independent. You’ll be subject to our laws and governance and you won’t be a maverick who can just ignore Congress and the Senate and the Supreme Court. Everything I just described will be on your shoulders and if you falter for a single second, they will eat you alive.”
You sat forward in the seat. “Is that what you want, Loki?”
He met your gaze for a long moment. “Yes. It is what I want.”
Wow. He was an impressively stubborn man. Maybe the most stubborn you’d ever met, in fact, which was saying something. He then cocked his head slightly. “And I think that might be important here for you as well.”
“What is?”
“What you want. You’re a successful campaign manager, so we both know money is not going to be the deciding factor. I’ve read up on you. I think I know exactly what you want.”
He casually strolled around the desk and then leaned down, putting his long-fingered hands on either side of you atop the chair’s arms. You stubbornly didn’t move away as the inches disappeared between the two of you. Damn him. He smelled incredible, like a nice earthy cologne, and he hadn’t dunked himself in it like some men did. “If you say yes…I will offer you a seat in the Asgardian court.”
You stared at him. “Bullshit.”
He grinned again. “Not at all. I will offer you my seat in the Asgardian court. You will be the first Midgardian to ever have a seat in the Asgardian court. You would be allowed to visit Asgard whenever you want with no restrictions and have access to the entire palace and all its many wonders.”
“There is no way you can assure that. You’ve been banished.”
“True, I was banished, but Heimdall’s all-seeing eyes and ears would allow me to send you up to Asgard at a time of your choosing. Odin would protest at first, but if I put in a good word for you with Thor and Frigga, he would relent. Especially after seeing you successfully appoint his son to arguably the highest authority on Midgard.”
You swallowed hard. Damn him. He was right—you were practically salivating at the idea of getting to go to Asgard, a privilege that no human ever had so far (that you know of, anyway). And you’d be an educated black woman being the first human to ever travel to Asgard, too. You’d actually taken a Norse mythology class in college and had been delighted and fascinated when Loki crash-landed on Earth three years ago and came forward about the existence of aliens, Asgard, gods, and plenty of other things that existed in the cosmos. It would be far better than money. Sure, he’d pay you a lot, but a chance to travel through the stars and indulge in a rich, beautiful alien culture was so tempting that you hated yourself for considering the offer.
“You know you want this job,” Loki murmured. “And I know it too. So why put on airs?”
“Because you’re an asshole,” you said bluntly, and he laughed.
“That sharp tongue is going to get you into such trouble, pet,” he mused. “And trouble is my middle name.”
“Don’t I know it?” You cleared your throat. “Fine. I’m not saying yes, but I’m not saying no either. Let me think about it for 24-hours, no more, no less. Deal?”
You offered your hand. He took it, but didn’t shake it—he kissed the back of your hand instead and then grinned when it made you blush. “Deal. I shall eagerly await your decision, pet.”
He turned and left your office, calling back, “Au revoir!” as he went. You slumped forward in your seat and started knocking your forehead against the desk’s surface for good measure. You were insane. There was no way you were going to get Loki to the White House.
…right?
“Wow,” Bette said after sucking the lemon sorbet off her spoon. “A seat in the Asgadian court. Holy fuck, babe. That’s wild.”
“I know,” you groaned after a bite of your own. “But you know this man would drive me up the fucking wall if I said yes. It would be a minimum of a year of torment. I just know he’s going to be a literal royal pain in my ass. And he might be lying about getting me into the Asgardian court.”
“Well, if Odin favors Thor and he can bend Thor’s ear, it might still be legit,” she pointed out, tucking a lock of red hair behind one ear. “And I’m sure he’d pay you famously well. After all, they may have banished him but he’s an alien and a prince; he’s loaded if nothing else than from people wanting him to endorse their products. I mean, he’s a spokesman for a fuckton of luxury brands and companies, so we know it’d be lucrative even if he’s fibbing about the court.”
“I’m just torn in general. He’s not wrong—I do like a challenge. My best campaigns have been the ones where everything was stacked against us, but we pulled it out in the end. So that part—the enrichment I’d get from completing an impossible task—would be pretty intense.”
“Speaking of pulling out,” she said, cutting her brown eyes over at you for a sly look. “Sounds like that’s also what the God of Mischief is interested in with you in particular.”
“Oh, stop,” you said, lightly kicking her knee with your socked foot. “You know damn well he’s not flirting for real. A guy like that flirts out of sheer habit and nothing else. I am not an idiot. I’m not getting anywhere near that man’s bed.”
“Mm-hmm,” she said slyly. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”
“Bite me. He’s a prince. He’s not going to sleep with some lowly public servant.”
“If you say so. It’s still a factor in your decision.”
You groaned. “What decision? I should just say no. He’s going to drive me crazy and I’d also be putting myself out there on an international scale. Am I even ready for that kind of public scrutiny?”
“You are,” Bette said, sitting up. “I mean it. You can handle shit going wrong better than anyone I’ve ever met. You’d be able to withstand it, trust me. And besides, most of the attention is focused on him, not you.”
“True, but what he does affects me too. If he goes off script and lands himself in hot water, now my reputation is at stake.”
She nodded. “That’s a good point. You can’t have him going off the rails and plunging you both into the hot seat. People get canceled fast these days.”
“Amen.”
Bette poked your tummy. “What’s your gut saying?”
“That I need alcohol.”
She chuckled. “What else is it saying?”
You let out another haggard sigh. “It can’t be trusted. Ambition is a fatal flaw. I don’t want to commit career suicide by taking on this difficult bastard.”
“But?” she added helpfully.
“But,” you groused. “It would pay well and it could skyrocket my career. If I got him there, I’d basically be set for life; I’d always have clients and I’d probably always be paid handsomely. I mean, I’m not a money oriented person, but it helps a lot to build a nest egg at my age, and this campaign would do that for me.”
“Exactly. So on the con side, there’s the fact that Loki is difficult and he could ruin your career and if he loses, he might go nuclear and that might also negatively affect your career. On the pro side, it would be lucrative and could open the remaining closed doors in your profession and you could become the first person to ever go to Asgard.”
“A lot in both columns. No idea what to do.”
“Here’s what I think—write up a new contract instead of your standard one for candidates. Make everything we just said explicitly clear. If he reads the whole thing and has no amendments or protests, then I think that’s a sign it might be the right choice for you. If he comes back at you with a bunch of changes and excuses, then I’d say it may not be right for you.”
You considered that. “Alright, I think that’s a fair way to decide. Thanks, Betty Boop.”
She kissed your cheek. “Anytime, sis. Now throw on an old Game of Thrones rerun—I need to get my Jason Momoa fix satisfied.”
“Here’s the deal,” you said as you sat down at your island counter, the God of Mischief looking huge and intimidating compared to your nice, but relatively humble abode. He was currently snacking on one of your homemade blueberry scones with black coffee and actually seemed to be enjoying it. “If I say yes, then there are a list of demands.”
“Oh, of course,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I would expect nothing less.”
You slid the contract over to him. “Everything is outlined in here to the letter. Read it front to back, top to bottom, and then tell me your thoughts.”
“As you like it, mum.” His intelligent eyes fell across the pages for the next several minutes. You sat there with your coffee and phone, pretending to do something on social media, but you could admit it was a front. You were nervous. You had no idea if he’d say yes or no, and your immediate future was riding on this decision, so you couldn’t help your anxiety. He made no faces nor comments as he read, continuing until he got to the very bottom that had his name spelled out for him to sign it.
“I find everything here agreeable,” Loki said in the end. “I have no requested changes.”
“Alright,” you said with a long sigh as you picked up a pen from the nearby counter and offered it to Loki. “Then I guess we’re in business, your highness.”
Loki gave you that Cheshire cat grin as he took the pen and signed the contract. “And what grand business it will be, pet.”