but I could, at least, save this one life

 

{ mine }

Thor/Loki, prison AU but I swear it's not that bad
Light hurt/comfort
Trigger warning: physical violence, prostitution, swearing, light homophobia

{ 1. }

He dropped his tray next to a sticky spot on the metal table with a loud clunk, and casually settled down on the uncomfortable plastic chair. With a big grin on his face, he rubbed his strong hands together, the calluses on them slid on senselessly, then he put his elbows up (the sleeve of the t-shirt that was too small for him tightened around his arm with a warning sound), and he grabbed the chicken leg with one of his huge palms to start wolfing the meat down from it, ignoring the looks and opinions of others. He had always eaten like this, polite or not. Once he was swept away by the joy of a meal, there was no stopping him.

The oily sauce dripping on his blue overalls was forming stains on the thin fabric and sinked in among the muddy blond hairs of his rough beard.

The food here was nowhere near the delicious feasts he had had at home. This chicken leg he was holding onto now was chewy and undercooked ‒ but food is food, and this wasn’t the place to complain, and here he had to work with what was given, sometimes literally, and this wasn’t so bad, to be fair, and anyway, he needed his strength and stamina.

He usually spent the free time they were getting in the corner where he found a good, unoccupied door frame. There he could do his pull-ups freely, and practice to break his sit-up record as a rest. Sometimes the red-bearded Volstagg wandered there whom he hadn’t spoken to yet but whom he was in some kind of silent agreement with. He wasn’t sure about how that came to be, even less sure about the why of it, but he thought it better not to anger the man because although he was never against a good fight, guards weren’t so fond of that kind of action. He pitied he had to miss out on an opportunity to try himself against such a worthy opponent, as he was honestly curious about which of them would have won; judging by the man’s face, he was also bored here and would have been happy to compete with him. There wasn’t anything personal about it, how could there be, they didn’t know anything about each other ‒ he was simply thrilled by the mere joy of a fight.

Actually, that was the reason for him ending up here. Everybody should follow their dreams, right? But not him? There were so many kinds of jobs now in these modern days (he wasn’t exactly old, but the world somehow had passed by him), therefore it only felt fair for him, too, to find one that fit him. So what if it was considered illegal by those who dictate the rules.

Suddenly, sharp noises entered his ears: the opening of the heavy door, clanking of handcuffs, confident steps ‒ thick boots and thin canvas shoes ‒, voices of two men.

“Enjoy your vacation, faggot,” spat out the guard who looked especially worthy to beat up. (There were lots of those.)

Thor raised his head slowly. Most of his face was covered in a safe shadow, only one of his eyes was lighted by an annoyingly shiny sunbeam, which caused him to watch the end of the scene with narrowed eyes.

Another inmate had been pushed into the room who was now disorientedly patting his arm under the blue fabric where the guard had probably been squeezing him too tightly. The man was shorter than him, much, much skinnier too (not a threat), his black hair was combed neatly and those curls looked soft (where did this thought come from), his face was oval and seemed helpless, he was somebody to protect (really now); but when the man scanned the room, he immediately spotted Thor in the corner, almost as if he was looking for him, and stared at him for a while, and Thor noticed something in those light-blue eyes, it felt like they were digging right into him, seeing his bones, his flesh, his heart and thoughts. (Might actually be a threat.)

The man straightened himself and stepped in front of Thor who didn’t even try to mask his surprise. Nobody approached him. They all learned he was not friendly.

“I’m Loki,” the newbie extended his hand and shot a small smile.

“I’m not giving the tour,” grunted Thor. He nodded to his right where a man with an awkward goatee was stalling awkwardly in the background. “I guess that’s his job.”

The man’s hand was still awaiting the shake, but his smile disappeared. Thor rolled his eyes and slapped his hand in the palm uninterestedly. The guy quietly squeaked in response but tried to hold himself up straight.

“Thor,” stated Thor.

“Nice to meet you,” said Loki, and he wandered off to the goatee.

Thor was confused by the situation, sharp wit was never involved on the list of his positive traits, but his arms had goosebumps. Physical reality, straight talk, power and violence ‒ those he understood; and with time, he had learned to know the signals of his body better too. This man was interesting.

×

At night he heard faint crying and blunt banging coming from not far away.

It was a frequent experience in a male prison, Thor had heard sounds similar to these many nights. Suppressed animal instincts come to the surface sooner or later, and it is the weak who have it worse.

Thor rolled over to face the wall and pressed his pillow on his head.

×

As Thor was lining up to counting the next morning, he was still a little hazy. He didn’t sleep well and not much either, because the sounds of the beating and the crying that followed kept him up. Now he was grumpy. That never seemed to be a good thing.

When the guards finally finished counting, they lined up for showering. Getting in, Thor went straight to the booth in the corner. Here he could be alone at last.

Not that he wasn’t alone in general, he hadn’t made many friends here, in fact, none at all (did Volstagg count?) because nobody wanted to actually get close to him due to their petty fear ‒ by which Thor was relieved most of the time, but, you know how it is, sometimes he was struck by the feeling of loneliness ‒, so he was alone, but he couldn’t really be alone anywhere between these walls. There was always somebody next to him, standing at a safe distance, of course, always saw somebody out of the corner of his eye, his body was always tense and restless. Except for the shower. Here he could relatively feel safe, let some steam out. He never let himself completely relax here either, but it was only here he could experience something closest to his slowly fading memory of calmness.

It has to be addressed though, he hadn’t been too calm before either. His job hadn’t had that kind of a bonus. Nonetheless, there had been times when he would get drunk on big glasses of beer, wolf down many dishes with his unappeasable hunger, or, surrounded by beautiful women, tell his mighty tales with his thunder of a laugh. (Oh, good old times…)

Somebody knocked a fist into the wall next to Thor’s booth, and informed him that he was dirty and hated waiting, so Thor wrapped his towel around his waist and stepped out of the shower. The man at the wall was startled when he was rewarded with a glare full of thunderbolts and storm.

Then Thor was startled when he turned his head.

The newbie was standing at the sink, the fresh towel hanging from his waist was patterned with small red stains, his ribs were basically poking through his skinny body, purple bruises and red scratches were scattered around on his pale white skin.

Loki turned around and Thor flinched. The man’s bloodshot eyes were puffy, there was a small split on the left side of his face, and blood on his lip. Yes, Thor had seen people like this, many, in here and outside too. Why was he shocked now? He couldn’t explain it. He was staring at the hurt, helpless, fragile man standing before him, and tried to form words but in fact not knowing what to say. (Protect him ‒ but why?) He saw something in him that made him want to do so.

Then he just hung his head down, resulting in his wet locks falling to his eyes, and stepped to the closest sink. The light-blue eyes followed him, as best as they could.

“That wound needs stitches,” thundered Thor’s deep voice quietly. (Why?) If it was any other situation, he wouldn’t have spoken, he had never done so, not for anyone. They were all adults here, knowing very well what they were doing, he believed, and, honestly, nobody who ended up here could be called pure as dawn. Why did he speak now?

“I’m going to see the doctor after shower,” croaked Loki, then his voice broke.

Thor, squinting, was examining the wound while Loki was cleaning the rest of his face with a clean end of his towel.

Then, looking in the mirror, he noticed a bald man stepping out from one of the rusty booths behind them. He wore a ridiculous grin on his face. Thor squeezed the sink harder, making his muscles bulge.

“I see you found a new client,” spat out the bald guy, looking right at Loki, and scratched the ugly, fainting black snake on his neck. “How long will this one do‒”

Thor, not even turning around, let out a short, thunder-like roar from deep in his lung as a warning, and the grin disappeared from the bald guy’s wrinkly face. He quickly grabbed his stuff and hurried away.

Thor glanced to his side, and noticed with surprise that Loki was staring at him. His ice-blue eyes portrayed awe, and something else he couldn’t figure out.

For a while, they were staring into each other’s eyes (and Thor would have stared for another long while too), then he snapped out of it, reached for his toiletry bag, and headed to the door.

“I was protecting myself,” said Thor before stepping out of the bathroom.

×

The next time he saw Loki was two days later. He probably spent a night in the recovery room. He spotted him in the cafeteria before starting his indescribable-colored smudge of a dish splashed on his tray. He watched as the man was shifting from one leg to another for a while, then, weighing his options ‒ he looked at Thor, wanting to sit beside him (come, come), (don’t, don’t) ‒, he took a place at the end of an empty table at last. Thor hung his head down (disappointment, question marks), and started to devour the portion of food that was too little for him.

When even the last bite had disappeared in his mouth, his stomach grumbled ‒ as a signal of encouragement to continue ‒, and was beginning to get upset upon realising that this had been it, but, fortunately, the scene taking place in front of him put a stop to the process.

The newbie was standing with his back to Thor, holding onto his empty tray, facing the guy with the neck tattoo they had the luck of meeting with the other day in the bathroom. He was standing close to Loki, as much as the tray held out in defense let him, and was hissing-murmuring something to him, but the words couldn’t reach all the way to Thor’s ears. (Danger!) The newbie was trying to maintain his dignity but Thor saw how he made himself a little smaller and winced every now and then. (Protect.)

After finishing his speech, the guy turned around, scratched the snake on his neck while placing his tray at the end of the cafeteria, and headed to the door.

Loki straightened himself, and shouted across the room: “Jenise, if I remember correctly?” The bald one turned back, some veins becoming visible on his neck. Loki added, almost in a way a snake would be hissing: “She deserved it.”

(Oh, idiot.)

Everything happened quickly, and Thor had gotten used to choosing the violent way most of the time when making rushed decisions, considering that, when he had to do so, even that little logic and brain movements of his disappeared that were otherwise hiding somewhere in him. Therefore he was not surprised in hindsight upon feeling his muscles tighten, feeling like a bear ready to attack when the bald guy marched in the direction of Loki and stopped in front of him. In the matter of seconds, the guy raised an arm, and punched Loki with all his force and anger, so Thor, in the matter of seconds, happened there and returned the courtesy. The baldie hit the floor, and Thor, glancing over his shoulder, noted that even though Loki stayed on his feet, his already recovering face required medical care again.

The man blinked up at him with a small smile. Thor smiled down at him.

Then he felt a kick on the back of his knee. He turned around slowly and growled at the guy holding his bleeding face. Lucky for him, he escaped Thor’s answer, as the fat guard managed to finally jog over to them and grumpily hand out warnings to all three of them, then escort the two injured to the medical room.

(Oh, idiot.)

{ 2. }

They were out on the yard the next time he saw Loki. A lanky guard was handing out some garden duties (honestly, Thor didn’t bother to learn their names, except Heimdall’s). They were separated into groups based on their tasks, and they walked to their spots.

Thor was heading towards the shed when he suddenly realized Loki was tagging along. He was looking down at his feet, but was, most definitely, by his side.

Thor cleared his throat. Loki jerked his head up to glare at him, and he almost drowned in those big blue eyes. Now Thor was looking at his feet. He didn’t have anything to say.

Once they got to the shed, he fetched a spade, shovels, a few stakes, then risked to glance at Loki.

“Uh, are you planting vegetables too?”

“Yes,” he nodded, and took some stakes and a shovel from Thor. “Show me the way.”

After they walked to the small allotments and dropped the stuff from their hands, Loki pointed out that the vegetables remained to be at the entrance where the tasks had been sorted out.

“Hmm,” said Thor thoughtfully, and got up to his feet, in no rush, to get them.

On his way back, he was wondering whether all the plants he grabbed were tomatoes, and whether it was a problem if a paprika or something grows out among the tomatoes.

Within viewing range, he spotted Loki, and stopped for a short moment, then hurried there as fast as he could without raising the guards’ attention. The vegetable garden was at a remote corner that guards didn’t make an effort to scan unless they had reason to.

The sharp side of a shovel was pressed to Loki’s neck by one of the beefier inmates. He was speaking to the kneeling man with a red face.

“Is there a problem here?” Thor asked in his deep voice.

The inmate rubbed his stringy mustache, and an “I’m not afraid of you” expression settled on his face. Seemingly, all the men here who were more massive than the others ‒ even if just a little bit ‒ thought they could teach him a lesson.

“Oh yeah, your humble fucking servant, almost forgot,” he spat out to Loki, and straightened up, keeping his eyes on Thor. “What did he get to you with? One piece of advice. Don’t buy anything that comes out from this little faggy’s mouth. He’s lying his ass off.”

A short laugh freed itself from deep in Thor’s lungs. “One piece of advice. You’re not giving me advice.” He stepped closer to the man, grabbed his overalls at the neck, and murmured into his face: “You want to hurt this person one more time, spare yourself a round and come to me right away.”

He released the fabric from his fist, took a step back, and with a wide, forced smile, he wiped his hands in his pants as a sign that he was done with the question. Crossing his huge arms, he watched the man shake his head and return to his spot unwillingly.

He grabbed a spade, inserted it into the earth at one point, and trodded on it so hard that a part of the handle dipped into the ground too.

“You really can’t be left alone, not even for a moment.”

Loki took one of the plants. “Thanks, I can take care of myself.”

Thor grunted. “Sure. I can see that.”

He looked down at the wounded face. He wasn’t the one to ask questions.

He did stay silent for a while, but then he asked a question. “So why is basically everyone out to kill you?”

“They’re overreacting,” waved Loki. “Everyone I’ve worked with wanted it. I didn’t do anything to anyone without their consent.”

“It sounds like you’re a hooker,” laughed Thor. Loki didn’t. Thor nodded. “Hm. With men. Now I get the faggot part.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Not exclusively. But, you know, you can only see one part of the situation, considering that this is, after all, a male prison.”

Ah yes, Thor realized, and felt kind of dumb.

“But yes,” sighed Loki. “With a slight difference. I work with some… extra contents.”

It was probably visible on Thor’s face that it crossed his mind how many extra services he could think of during this kind of work, because Loki giggled.

“I’m not thinking of that. Of course, those could be arranged too,” winked the man. “No, this is, well, the unpleasant part for the clients. It might have happened every once in a while that they paid more than they had planned originally.”

“Ah, so you’re a con-man! Now I get the lying thing.”

Loki shrugged. “What can I say, I’m good at it.”

“You’re in prison.”

“Except that.”

“Hmm,” said Thor. Then for a while he debated whether to voice the thought he just crossed in his mind or not. At last, he reached the conclusion, fuck it. “For all its worth, I appreciate you’re honest with me now.”

Loki smiled. (Is it possible his eyes turned green?) “This is the least I’m somewhat obliged to do for someone who suddenly promoted himself to the position of serving as my personal bodyguard.”

Thor got lost halfway through the sentence, but smiled. He didn’t know why he wanted to protect this person, but his insides felt warm at hearing his words.

“When you figure it out, don’t keep it to yourself. I’m curious as well.”

Thor snapped back to reality, and he thought, for a brief moment, that Loki was a mindreader.

“Hmm?”

“The reason. Why you sided with me.”

“Definitely,” said Thor. Or at least he mumbled something similar.

Meanwhile they planted three maybe-tomatoes. He didn’t even realize that they were working together perfectly without any attention paid.

×

They were spending a lot of time together the following days. 

Loki found a nice little corner in the free-time room where he snuggled up and read his daily changing books beside Thor. After just three days non-stop by each other’s side, Thor felt like he had known this man since the start of times, and indeed, they got pretty comfortable around one another.

So comfortable that Thor sometimes got to peek behind Loki’s mask, slowly fully seeing his real being. And with each moment he got to know this man a bit more, the more he liked him, and with each moment he got closer to this man, the stronger the red warning light was in his head.

There was something in Loki that made Thor glad they were on the same side, not against one another. He figured out fast enough that Loki was light-years away from him in smartness and intelligence, and that he would be able to defeat him only physically if it ever would come to that. (No-never, not to be hurt.) He figured out fast enough that even though he didn’t seem strong to the outside viewer, there was much more in this man than one would have thought at first glance. Or second.

One day they were doing their weekly mandatory jog on the track installed just around a month ago. (Thor was intentionally moving slower for Loki to be able to keep up.) Suddenly the man stopped so Thor did too. Panting, he operated a scrunchie into his raven-black hair which was shorter than Thor’s blond locks so he usually wore it let down (attractive), but now he was trying to free himself from the curls on his sweaty face. Thor was staring down at him with fascination. (Why?)

“Do you remember the bald guy?” Loki asked.

“Shit-talking.”

“Do you remember the snake on his neck?”

“Cheap.”

“Indeed. But do you remember what he was doing a lot?”

“Uhm… hurt you?”

“No, Thor, with the tattoo.”

“Uhm…”

Loki rolled his eyes. “He was scratching it.”

“Oh. Yeah. And?”

Loki sighed. “Did you notice too that the poor animal is turning kind of red?”

“The snake? Now that you mention it…”

“And what does an itchy red tattoo indicate?”

“Oh! It’s infected,” stated Thor confidently. Then, proud of himself, he added: “But I also noticed it’s fading. Old tattoo. Can old tattoos get infected too?”

An all-knowing Mona Lisa smile crept up to Loki’s face, and opened his mouth to speak.

“Hey, girls,” shouted a guard. “This ain’t the time for a chat. Run!”

Loki sighed; Thor’s muscles cheered up when he started moving again.

“Feels like I’m back in high school and it’s gym class.”

“Right?” said Thor happily, and he got a frown in response. “I see someone wasn’t part of the cool gang.”

Loki gasped. “Oh, I was perfectly fine with my own friends and was not, for one second, tempted to fit into a group labeled cool by the current social standards, thanks very much.”

Thor digested the sentence.

“I felt good with them,” he said finally.

Loki rewarded him with a “yeah, so I thought” look.

“Let me guess. Emo group? Bookworms?”

“Both. And junkies. Or that might have been a part of the emo thing. We were kind of mixed. Low people.”

Thor couldn’t say anything to that.

His parents were big-shot folk, they had raised him in a house that might as well have been a palace, just a word from him and they had got him everything… Up until they had found out from the police about his aggressive occupation, as his mother referred to it (who worried excessively about her role in him choosing this path, and at the beginning she had been convinced of the importance of a good psychologist). His father just mysteriously acknowledged the matter by saying that felons can be of any societal class, and that laws are subjective to a certain degree.

After only a few weeks, the next family scandal had come up when his sister Hel had announced she was a lesbian.

His thoughts wandered away. They were jogging beside each other until Loki, while panting heavily, broke the silence.

“Yes, it can get infected. An old tattoo. And I’ve got an idea. I need your bodyguard service for it.”

Thor smiled. (I’m happy to.)

×

Thor only knew so much that he had to stand guard while Loki was sneaking into the neck tattoo guy’s cell at night. He was expecting a slightly more interesting job but nevermind. Loki needed his help.

When the man appeared back just minutes later, he nodded with a conspiratorial smile, and they both headed back to their beds silently.

Thor was having a hard time falling asleep because curiosity kept him up.

When they first met the next day (Loki was somehow sorted into his group at work too, and Thor was sure that the man personally went after the matter), it was his very first concern to check with Loki about what happened.

“So, what happened?” whispered Thor excitedly, while searching for a right sized nail.

Loki lurked closer. “I don’t think you’d like to know the details. Basically, the snake, unfortunately, happened to get very dirty somehow.”

Thor shaked his head. He thought it wrong, but after all, they were here where all the wrong things dictate the rules. Poor fella probably deserved it. (Something wicked this way comes.)

×

“I think he’s sweating. Do you see he’s sweating?” Thor was stirring excitedly on his chair.

A proud smile spread on Loki’s face as he watched the man with the neck tattoo in the line. “Indeed I do.”

Thor started to devour the chicken… something on his tray, disturbing Loki’s mischievous staring. At the loud chewing, the man looked at him with scowling brows, watched him for a while, then got to his own portion (with noticeably more elegance than Thor).

The baldie turned around with a full tray in his hands, scanned the room for empty seats quickly, and for a moment, his gaze fixed on Thor and Loki, as if trying to understand something, it was almost visible how his brain started actually working ‒ then he walked away beside them, the expression of hard thinking still on his face, and sat down at a table far behind them.

“Okay, this thing is uneatable,” said Loki with a disappointed look, putting down his fork. “This… meat, this… there are no words for this. They want to poison us here.”

Thor was watching him with interest, while continuing with the chewing.

“Evidently, you’re not bothered.”

Thor was apparently very entertained by him. “Ah, Loki. This’ your first prison experience, right?”

Loki crossed his arms. “Well, I’m not so bad at what I do…”

“Dear friend, we can’t be picky here. It is what it is, sometimes good, sometimes bad. In every matter.”

Thor, even though he wasn’t sure where the impulse came from, winked at the man. Loki smiled and raised an eyebrow. (There’s nothing more compelling, can’t be.)

Thor cleared his throat. “Believe me, nobody could be more bothered by the lack of a good feist than me, but here, the options are limited, and you’ve got to take them. You don’t wanna get weak.”

“Well, I won’t be the one to win an actual fight. That’s why I keep you,” Loki batted his lashes, “so you’ll protect me with those thick, strong arms of yours. Nobody dares to cross you, mountain.”

Thor felt like he was blushing. Or, at least, he recalled this was the feeling indicating blushing. It had been a long time since the last one.

The breakfast was otherwise spent quietly, they just smiled at each other when their eyes met, and when Thor finished his food, they returned to their cells.

This was the place they spent most time apart. Thor was less and less worried about others using this little timeframe for beating Loki up. Seemingly, they learned who they’d have to face if they’d try.

After counting, he grabbed his towel and toiletry bag, and stood in the line leading up to the showers. He must have got lost in his thoughts, because everyone else was already standing before him. He sighed.

“Maybe cold water will actually feel good,” he heard a familiar voice from behind him. Turning around, he found Loki’s cunning smile. “You know, for the heated mood.”

“Maybe there’ll still be some hot left…” Thor tried.

It was visible on Loki’s face how many sarcastic jokes he was holding back regarding hotness (and Thor felt he would have blushed again from most of them) because it wasn’t so fun or safe joking about this in front of other inmates. Finally, he just said, crossing his arms: “Keep on hoping.”

Thor couldn’t stop a laugh. He patted Loki’s back in a friendly manner, and he got an annoyed look in return. “You forever-pessimist,” said Thor gently, as some kind of explanation. (Balance ‒ complete.)

“Logical, instead,” muttered Loki. “And there’s my experience too.”

By the time they got to the front of the line, they had a whole theoretical discussion going on (well, Thor felt like he just sometimes inserted some stupid comment, about which Loki realized something and continued on with his verysmart-reallyverysmart thoughts) about mindsets and the role of experience in life, from which they progressed on to the real and irreal things, from which they quickly spiraled into the subject of religion.

“Thereby, can multiple gods exist or is there only that one? And the question stands, did the old Greek, Viking and other higher powers simply disappear?”

“Well, there’s the Ragnarök…” (Thor was proud he remembered that.)

“Now that you mention it, it is interesting indeed that some sort of a self-destructive mechanism is involved in every religion. This could indicate, perhaps, that gods too, are replaced every once in a while, therefore all the old ones are dead. Or, here’s another intriguing thought; now that humanity has many different beliefs, if they still exist, hypothetically, how does coexistence work in the god world when all gods narcissitically think they are superior?”

“Maybe they are fighting all the time.”

“Now that is also an interesting point, considering that‒”

“Oh, shut up,” barked an inmate who was marching out of the showers with a group. As he was passing them, he waved back at the room. “It’s empty.” He looked at Thor and said: “Careful.”

Thor thought he understood what the inmate was indicating. Only he and Loki were standing in the now two-man line; only he and Loki were going to be in the bathroom, and it seemed like Loki’s past was well-known among the prison folk.

He sighed and entered. He headed automatically to the far-corner booth. Undressed, he stepped in it, and started the water. When the first drops hit his heated skin, he huffed.

“Truly, it’s cold,” he murmured.

The water was turned on in the booth next to him too, and Loki squeaked.

“Cold indeed,” noted the man.

“Maybe it’ll be good for, you know, the heated mood,” laughed Thor. (Heat me up.)

Loki fell silent. For a while, only the water could be heard. Then, suddenly, the man’s head popped up at the end of the separating wall.

“Can I borrow your soap?”

Thor handed it over without hesitation. Their hands touched, and his heart pounded harder. Loki smiled calculatingly, turned around, and Thor was able to admire his perfectly round butt for a moment (…please!), then it disappeared behind the separating wall.

Thor had never thought of men like this. He appreciated and loved the gentle womanly curves, but had never thought of men like this. Although he could, of course, see what could be attractive for a woman, he had never been interested in those traits. Could Loki be an exception? Or does he feel like this only between these prison walls? Even though he had heard rumors of straight men using this opportunity ‒ for it being the only opportunity ‒ to ease their sexual hunger, he hadn’t noticed the need in himself. He wouldn’t die from not having sex for a few years.

Maybe he only lasted this long. Maybe Loki was special. Maybe‒

“You’re overthinking,” Loki hemmed.

Maybe the charming man with the raven-black hair and ice-blue eyes was right.

So he stepped into the booth next to him, and put his arms around Loki from behind.