#i thought bob could be dally in a different timeline or something

[imagine-loki]

Helmet Heists

TITLE: Helmet heists

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One-shot

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine “borrowing” Loki’s helmet to wear for a full day on a dare. The inside is unbelievably sweaty, and you can’t tell if the extra goo is hair gel or mousse, but a dare is a dare.

Loki walks up to see his helmet wobbling precariously on your head. “(Name), what are you doing?”

“Hunting bilgesnipe,” you retort. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

RATING: T

NOTES/WARNINGS: I’ve been on a kick of writing these one-shots as snapshots in the friendship of Loki and Becca because, why not? Tonight I felt like he needed a friend, so I made a funny, fluffy, friendly fic. Some language, dubious timelines (who even cares, honestly?) and Loki I-don’t-know-how-to-make-friends Odinson moments.

=

“Come on, Becks! You took the dare and now you have to deliver,” Sam teased. He was sitting on the benchtop of one of her lab tables, being a general nuisance. As always. Though she loved the man (and his absurd confidence), he had the uncanny ability of getting on her nerves (probably also because of his absurd confidence). At least he was a handy and willing test subject for her new inventions, as well as a decent ’here, hold this’ assistant.

Beside him, Rebecca was bent over a small circuit board and motor, adjusting the tension of some screws with the same precision a heart surgeon would pay to open-heart surgery. Behind her darkened UV goggles, she rolled her eyes, though he could not see. She had a feeling he could feel her expression. “Absolutely not, Sam.”

“The forfeit is much worse and you know it.”

“The forfeit won’t get me a dagger through the heart.” She paused, blowing the fringe out of her face and tilting up just enough to look at him. “Actually, that might not be true. He might stab me, either way. 

This was ridiculous. Why had she even agreed to this stupid dare? Oh, right. She had been drunk as all hell when the challenge had been proposed. They had all been drunk, to be fair, but they seemingly had the fortitude of mind to remind her of this little adventure once the hangover had subsided.

Stupid superheroes and their stupid alcohol tolerance!

Sam snorted, lifting a single eyebrow at her. "Not with a dagger, he wouldn’t.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively to make her groan. “Come on, not even Prince Sourpuss could resist you a cutie like you laying one on him.”

“One, you’re disgusting, Sam. Two, I’m pretty sure kissing someone out of the blue is assault and I doubt he’d enjoy it.” Becca pushed him until he scooted down the line. “Three, you’re in my workspace. Please get lost.”

“Not before you get that helmet.”

The automatic doors hissed open, making them both look up. Tony was striding in with a grin on his face. He either had very good or very bad intentions. “Where’s the helmet, Buttercup?”

“Please, no,” she groaned. Of course, he would be here to pester her, too. Becca fought the urge to throw something in Tony’s direction–it had been he who set the dare.

“You took the dare! It’s the law!” He grimaced playfully. “And I’m morbidly curious as to whether or not he would try to kill the only person he tolerates in the tower as revenge. Think of it as research.”

The doors hissed open again. “Lady Becca, do you need assistance procuring my brother’s helmet?”

“For fuck’s sake! I am trying to work! You know, the stuff you pay me to do,” she jabbed a finger in Tony’s direction, “and y'all need me to do to survive on missions?” She gestured the other two with a frown.

Bruce rushed into the lab, glancing over his shoulder every couple of steps. “I think Loki just went to the gym, if you want to go grab the stuff.”

Becca’s mouth set into a grim line. All the faces looking down at her were clearly ecstatic to see how this dare would play out. If she didn’t know any better she would say they didn’t much care for her to continue breathing. When the expectant looks turned pleading, she rolled her eyes, pulling off the black nitrile gloves she had been wearing and tossing them into the bin beside the bench. Her goggles met the lab bench a second later.

Throwing open a drawer, she fished out a metal vambrace, a hybrid between Tony’s plasma-shooting gauntlets and Peter’s webshooters. Slipping it over her right hand, she flexed her fingers experimentally, enjoying the crackle of static that came from her fingers at he action. If she was walking into the lion’s den, she definitely wasn’t doing it without some sort of protection.

“Keep Loki in the gym. I’ll be in and out in twenty.”

Thor grinned huge, nodding enthusiastically before following her out into the hallways. While he turned towards the gym, she turned up to the emergency staircase. She took the stairs by pairs and allowed herself a second to catch her breath at the landing. Quietly, she sneaked towards the back of the east wing, hyperaware of all the noises around her.

It wasn’t that she was scared of Loki, volatile and moody as he was, it was… no… that was a lie… she was scared. It was well justified fear. Becca had once witnessed Loki skewer three opponents with a single dagger after one of them ripped his leather armor. He was very particular about his things. And though she was on friendly terms with the man (as friendly as anyone could ever be with the surly demigod), she wouldn’t put a light stabbing past him for “borrowing” his stuff.

The door to his rooms was unlocked, strangely enough. No one ever came back here, save for Thor, so it made sense that Loki did not bother with security measures. The inside was impeccably organized–all right angles and open spaces. The only cramped area seemed to be the towering bookcases, packed to the brim with leather-bound tomes that looked well-loved. As much as Becca wished she could dilly-dally and peruse titles, the voice in the back of her mind reminded her that she only had so much time before she had to disappear from the premises.

Slipping towards the bedroom, she stepped towards the old-fashioned wardrobe. Opening the dark wood door, she spied the helmet resting on its own shelf a little above her eye line. Reaching up, she pulled it from its resting place, letting a startled huff leave her lips as the unexpected weight pulled her arms down.

“How the hell does he even keep this on his head?” She wondered aloud, testing the heft of the golden horns with a frown.

Turning the helmet over, she peaked inside, pulling a face instantly. She should have expected–it was a piece of battle armor, after all. But as clean as he kept his room, she would have thought he cared equally for his armor. On the inside of the golden horns there were smudges and glistening patches of salt from dried sweat. A mysterious thick substance lingered at the very bottom. Was it gel? Was it oil? Something else entirely? She shuddered to think its true composition. A good wipe down was key before attempting to put the helmet anywhere near her face.

The lab was all abuzz as Becca stepped back inside, helmet bobbing at her side as she held it by a horn. Tony whooped at the sight, strangely ecstatic about the fact that she was to have the horns on all day. She worried she might need a neck brace when she was done.

Sitting at her bench, she pulled a microfiber towel and the same cleaning solution she used for delicate electronics. If anything went wrong with the helmet, she was sure that she’d be murdered. A cursory wipe pulled out grime and gunk that made her (and Sam, who still had not gotten lost) gag. The cleaning solution went on and when she wiped everything away, the inside of the helmet gleamed and glistened under the bright lab lights.

“Put it on. Put it on! PUT IT ON!” Sam chanted, Bruce and Tony followed suit a moment later. Even FRIDAY overhead joined in on the childish taunting until Becca groaned, acquiescing. All she had to do was stay in the lab and finish her work. The day would be over before she knew it and she could return the helm before it was missed.

The horns were a lot more comfortable than she would have thought, for an all-metal hat. It was easy to notice the difference in size between herself and Loki, as the horns would slide back over her head whenever she moved. The garment was also incredibly heavy, to the point that she could feel herself actively straining to keep her neck from snapping to whatever direction the helmet was slipping in.

“OK, there. Are you guys happy now? Can I keep working?” Becca asked, glaring.  Her hands plucked another pair of gloves from the box, but they were quickly swiped from her hands.

“Oh, no, you don’t. You’re on the testing floor today,” Tony said, smiling.

So this was his grand idea–getting his weapons tech murdered.

“That is a hard pass. I can barely hold my head up as it is, and–”

“Testing floor. Now. That is an order.”

Becca snorted, stealing her gloves back and hunching over her workspace. “Tony, I’ve never followed your orders before. Why would I start now?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, looking eerily confident in himself. “Because I have hidden your Mark III for the proton gun on the testing floor and sent Peter to guard it.”

Her head snapped up and a muscle in her neck seized, making her groan while she massaged it. “You wouldn’t dare.” He simply pulled out a StarkPad and pulled the video feed of the testing floor. Becca stood up so quickly her chair toppled over. The group followed her as she ran past the lab doors and towards the testing floor.

Most of the techs had stopped tittering every time she walked past them in the insane headwear. At the very least, they had stopped throwing objects to catch on the horns, as if it were a bizarre game of horseshoes. A well-placed glare–a rare occurrence of the tech geek–had taken care of that rather quick. Becca had to admit, though, the extra height the helmet gifted her made her feel much more confident than she was. Her posture was better (though that had a lot to do with the fact that her neck was likely to break if she wasn’t ramrod straight); her speech, more formal. Thor had even remarked that she had adopted some of the mannerisms his brother often displayed.

She was sitting on a stool, adjusting some of Thor’s new smart bracelets when the room went deathly silent. Even Thor, who had been standing patiently while she turned him this way and that, stilled suddenly.

The hair on the back of Becca’s neck stood on end and she did not have to turn around to know that it was Loki currently staring daggers at her. Her hand grasped a horn to still the helmet as she tilted her head, trying to will Loki out of the room just by virtue of her thoughts.

“Rebecca, what are you doing?” The dark, smooth voice was deceptively nonchalant. Her whole arms erupted in goosebumps at the question. Oh, she was dead.

Turning her head slightly, she caught his form over her shoulder. He was dressed casually (well, casual for him), trousers and a sweater, one hand in his pocket–generally looking easy–despite the pointed intensity of his eyes.

“Hunting bilgesnipe,” she retorted, rolling her eyes. “What’s it look like I’m doing?” When she faced Thor again, he was staring back in wide-eyed panic and the feeling of dread settled in her stomach like a rock.

“I beg your pardon?” The phrase sounded a lot more like ’what the fuck did you just say?’, in her opinion.

The dare entailed for her to act like there was nothing amiss, should she be discovered by Loki during her day wearing the helmet. Right about now, she thought the idea was the stupidest thing she had ever agreed to.

“I’m just helping Thor with some gear.” Somewhere in the background Peter was chanting ’oh no’ over and over. “Is there something you need?”

A long stretch of silence followed the question. In her head, Becca supposed he was wondering whether to murder her now, in front of all these people, or later, in her apartment. She had not just stolen something of his, but she was being sassy and contrary–

He chuckled. “I suppose my business can wait. I’ll sit with the Spiderboy while you finish.”

“OK. Sounds good,” she replied, though her voice choked half-way through. She mouthed ’he’s going to kill me at Thor’, swiping her index finger over her neck to drive the point home. Thor merely blinked back at his brother, confused.

Becca procrastinated as long as it was physically possible. She had gone over the same specs so many times, that she could predict the radiation readings for every type of spark Thor could make. The god of Thunder smiled wryly, trying to be encouraging as he stepped away. He patted her shoulder, giving a light squeeze before leaving her workstation. The sensation of being watched surged, once more, and Loki had taken Thor’s place before her.

Glancing upwards, she offered him a shy smile in hopes of some sort of emotion breaking through his poker face. “What’s on your mind, Loki?”

He fought against a smile as he sat across from her, tossing his Stark mobile phone at her. “Seems to have frozen again. Do you mind taking a look?”

Becca tutted under her breath, swiping through the root directory, happy to be focusing on absolutely anything else. “I keep telling Tony his software doesn’t do well with your seidr, but he keeps not listening.” She had to react quickly to the horns slipping forward.

Balancing it back in a somewhat comfortable position, she continued to tinker away. When she shifted, her instinct was to guard the helmet, again, but found that where it had been too big and burdensome a moment before, it was now resting comfortably and snug on her head. Her blood ran cold and her fingers stilled.

“Anything the matter?” There was a laugh in his voice now and it was somehow worse than if he were mad. He had not been titled the God of Mischief for being a dear.

“No. Just thinking,” she fibbed, though she knew it was useless.

“Did you get a haircut?” When she cut her eyes up, he was resting his chin on his open palm, elbow propped on the table. His eyes sparkled with amusement. “No? There’s something different about you, I just can’t put my finger on it.” He brushed the fingers of his free hand over the sleeve of her t-shirt. “New top?”

“Er… nope. Nothing different. Nothing at all,” she squeaked. There was a lingering sensation to his touch, a strange tingle. Her fingers challenged themselves to a speed-run of rebooting his phone. The sooner he had no reason to be around her, the better it would be. He already knew she had stolen his helmet, which was the point of the dare. She would go straight up to his room after work and grovel for forgiveness, if needed. Cell phone restarted, she handed it back to him with a tight-lipped smile. “There we go. Ready to roll.”

Loki grinned, taking back the phone. “Thank you very much, Rebecca. You’re possibly the only good and true mortal in this prison!.” He rose from his seat, only to turn back about ten paces later. “Oh, darn. It seems to have gone again.” When she focused on his hands, there was a green glow over the screen.

“Oh, fucking hell,” she growled out through clenched teeth.

“Is there a problem, dear?”

She took a deep breath to relax and forced a smile. “Not at all, Loki.”

Becca reached for the phone, only to let out a yelp when he closed his fingers around her wrist. “New necklace. That’s it, isn’t it?” He was enjoying this game far too much.

“Why? Just… why?” She cried, pitifully, her meaning obvious. Loki merely shrugged and chuckled, releasing her hand from his grasp and assuming his original position. She set back to the task of rebooting his phone. Halfway through, she stopped, tilting her head curiously, recalling the glow a moment prior. “Does your phone crash a lot?”

“Every now and again,” he responded carefully. “As you said, Stark does not listen to recommendations.”

It was true, Becca had mentioned several times how Loki’s phone would inexplicably freeze while he was using it. Tony had assured her that there was nothing interfering with the phone, other than Loki wanting to be a bother. She also knew that he had not been at their evening of pizza and beer the night before, claiming to have better things to do.

She resumed her work, moving her fingers steadily over the holographic screen. “Do you like to read? I keep looking for book trade buddies, but they are in short supply on Stark tower.”

The turn in conversation took him aback. “Oh, er, well… yes.”

“Cool! I have lots of history and historic fiction–it seems your style. I also have a good mystery and fantasy collection, if that’s more your thing.” She returned the phone with a smile. “I can bring some over tonight, if you want. Ooh, and Chinese food. We can make an evening of it.”

He gave a confused nod before floating away, glancing over his shoulder every so often, stopping to explain the situation in his head, and continue on.

At the back of the testing floor, Tony and Bruce looked dejected while Peter just looked relieved. They had expected significantly more shouting and flying knives from the encounter. Becca half-thought that they just wanted an excuse to pick on Loki, despite the fact he had been behaving recently. She offered a smug grin before finishing her work and heading out.

Loaded up with cartons of Chinese food and books, horns still on her head (the delivery guy had nearly died at the sight), Becca knocked on Loki’s door. He answered promptly a moment later, somewhat hesitant. She placed the books on the counter, and unpacked the food as Loki hovered anxiously out of the corner of her eye.

“I won’t bite, I promise,” she teased. Loki reluctantly came nearer the table and pulled a seat. “Oh, one last thing.” With a quick tug, she removed the horns from her head. She massaged her head and attempted to tame her hair in one motion. “I think these are yours. I must have taken them by mistake. I swear, I have the same exact pair!”

Loki laughed easily, shaking his head. “I’m sure you do. Did you win, at the very least?”

“I did. Banner was too chicken to streak down Fifth Ave.” She grabbed an eggroll and took a bite. “You should join us next time.”

He made a noise of derision. “Then how will I know what you look like in my armor?” His sarcasm flowed easily, though Becca was aware of the implication of his statement. Who would they make fun of if he showed up?

Becca smirked, rolling her eyes. “I mean, I can go put it on right now, if that’s what you want.” They both laughed at the absurdity,. “It’s OK if you don’t want to, but it’d be nice. I’d appreciate a friend there.” She held out the helm with a warm smile, eagerly diving into a box of chicken when relieved of the armor.

Loki grabbed his helmet and hefted it easily. “I’ll think about it.” He frowned. “Did you clean my helmet?”

“Of course I did, dude. That thing was nasty!” She giggled, throwing a piece of carrot at him when he scowled at her. He retaliated with a noodle. She threw an eggroll. He donned his helmet, grabbed a carton of chow mein and gave chase, laughing freely.

Tony watched as his weapons tech dashed across the hallway, her track and field training giving her a slight advantage against the long-legged Asgardian who cackled as he followed a second later. He closed his eyes and sighed. Maybe the dare had been a bad idea.

#Loki #God of Mischief #Others #Submitted one shot #submission #helmet heists #Fanfictrashdump