Chapter Text
It's not easy to be sometimes a cat and sometimes a human. Sometimes people will insist on petting you, on trying to figure out where you lived, who 'owned' you. It had gotten so bad in the past decade that he'd bought a collar so well-meaning people would stop trying to catch him.
Of course, sometimes you might try to reveal your secret to a special person and they might decide that you are clearly a demon and try to burn you to death.
It was just typical of his luck really.
Their affair hadn't exactly started well. None of them did. He wasn't on the grid. He couldn't get work or money very easily. So he mooched and relied on others, went from warm bed to soft cushion taking what he could along the way. Some people were really nice, probably loved him, but he always ended up moving on. A real life wasn't for him. It was nice to be a pet sometimes, whether cat or human, but he would always long for freedom. It was just how he was. Moving on, always moving on. Passing his collar off as fashion, as irony, as kink.
Stupidly, he'd come to believe Svaldifari was different. A fellow outsider, a believer in mysticism and magic, of crystals and incense and chalk circles. Nothing that someone who could shift between human and cat form had any right to mock or question. He made jewellery and played music and scraped together a living. Easily seduced. Together, they might have been happy.
But no. He'd decided to be honest and reveal his secret. And now here he was, tied to a chair, still woozy from the cocktail of drugs that had been used to subdue him for exorcism, looking vaguely at the pile of burning papers and fabric scraps.
Funny how imminent horrible death sharpened the mind.
It was not a nice building. It wouldn't be missed, was probably marked for demolition anyway. It was lucky for him that Svaldifari was also pretty dumb and didn't think to use any kind of fuel or accelerant except what was in the room. That would give him more time to get out.
Escaping the bonds was easy. His wrists as a human were much bigger than his cat legs. Freeing himself from his clothes was a little harder. Not that they even fitted properly. He was glad to be rid of them really.
And then there was the fact that he was now in a burning room.
Keeping close to the floor, he tried to negotiate his way out. The building's fire alarm was ringing loudly, the near-useless sprinkler system spitting a little water down, turning to steam almost instantly. He managed to get close enough to the door to shift back to a more useful shape, one with opposable thumbs.
The door was locked. Svaldifari must have had a key.
"Shit," he hissed, starting to cough. "Shit, shit..."
The windows had long ago been painted shut, and he was several floors up anyway. Not even cats could survive that drop. He was trapped. Doomed to burn. It was all going up so fast...
Sirens wailed outside and he dropped back to cat form, close to the ground, the better to avoid the worst of the smoke. Maybe he could hold out. Maybe they'd find him.
The heat began to become truly unbearable. He felt like his very bones were going to melt, lying on the floor flat out. But maybe it was better this way. Maybe this was always how it was going to end, one day.
He heard his saviours coming, the thunder of their feet, calling out. He yowled as best he could, the disgusting air burning his lungs, the heat making him close to unconsciousness.
The door exploded inwards in a shower of splinters, a hulking figure in breathing apparatus brandishing an axe entering the room. An angel, a bulky angel, stepping through the flames to pick him up. If he'd wanted to run, he couldn't have.
Before he knew it, he was outside, a whirl of uniformed people rushing here and there. It seemed to be under control though. His lungs ached, and trying to gasp for breath hurt. A tiny tube was fixed to his mouth, probably oxygen, trying to revive his limp body. He couldn't struggle anyway, and he knew it was help. They were trying to save him.
And then the fire fighter took off his helmet.
Kind blue eyes, blonde hair pulled back into a bun, an air of concern. Ooh. An angel indeed, a delicious angel.
"Come on, little guy," he murmured. "Come on, be alright, please..."
Oh, he wanted to live for this one. He wanted to live with this one. He dug in his claws, knowing it wouldn't have any effect on the thick, fire-proof fabric, but he was determined not to be separated from the one who'd saved him just yet. Maybe not for a while.
He let out the tiniest, most pitiful mewl. Aren't I adorable? You should keep me.
The man smiled, pleased to see signs of life. It was like the sun emerging from behind a cloud.
"Hey, Sif?" he said. "Can you take off my glove? I want to pet him properly."
Please, please pet me.
Another figure approached, tugging off one of his thick gauntlets before pulling off her own protection.
"Found a new friend?" she asked.
"Seems so. I think he likes me."
The woman smiled wryly, like this happened all the time. No doubt it did. Who could be rescues by this Adonis and not be overwhelmed?
"Well, try not to get attached. Look, he has a collar. Someone owns him."
She reached out, twisting the tag so she could read it.
"Oh, my God. That's hilarious."
"What is?"
The man's hand felt delicious on his fur. He never wanted this to end.
"Its name is Loki."
"You're kidding."
"Nope. Thor and Loki. I take it back. This is fate. Let's hope no-one claims him. You can't let this one get away, not when the universe is telling you to adopt him."
Listen to her. Take me home.
Thor chuckled, a warm, wonderful sound.
"I'll take him to the vet's to be checked out, make sure he's properly OK. But you know me. I'm famously unreliable. I can't look after an animal. He's probably microchipped. Some little girl or boy or old lady will be glad to have him back safe."
Sif hummed.
"Yeah, that's probably best," she said. "Though I don't think you're going to be able to get rid of him that easily. Look at those giant eyes. He's in love already."
Loki snuggled into Thor's chest. Yes, he'd do for a while at least. Whether he liked it or not.