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Paradigm Shift	By : AlexPhoenix Category: Marvel Verse Movies > Avengers, The Views: 4181 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the Marvel/Thor/Avengers universes. The only thing I own is Alex, Ronan, and their actions/thoughts. This is all for fun; not monetary values.

Chapter List
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Chapter 5: Home Sweet Home
     "Home sweet tool shed," I joked as I stepped over the threshold.
     I clicked on the lights. Their incandescent bulbs illuminated the foyer and living room. It was a simple set up. The foyer, with its black lacquered half circle wall table, coat hooks, and antique mirror, led into the medium sized living room. My midnight blue couch, complete with silver pillows, was pushed against the right wall. Black, light blocking curtains fell over the window to the left of the couch, their silver trim brushing over the polished granite sill. On the wall opposite the couch, a thirty-two inch flat screen television sat on its six foot tall, black entertainment center. The entertainment center also acted as my movie case, my DVD and VCR box container, my memory shelf, and part of my miniature library. I'd just purchased it, and it was well worth the money I'd spent. In the center of the room sat a black coffee table, covered with CD's, magazines, dirty dishes, and a boom box.
     To the left of my combination station was the doorway to the kitchen. The cooking space was a hell of a lot smaller than I would've liked, but I really had no room to bitch. I only ever cooked for me or the neighborhood munchkins. The kitchen was painted white, like the rest of the house, and was decorated in the strangest theme I'd ever seen a kitchen have: murderous rampage. I figured it's a place where you cut and cook meat, so why not add a little Jeffrey Dahmer flair to it?
     My two-person kitchen table was dark stained particle board, and spattered with dark red splotches. The cabinets were painted to match the tiny table. The granite counter top was black, and was covered with bright red appliances: a toaster, a microwave, a coffee maker, and a butcher knife set in the shape of a human bubble. My sink was positioned under a window that looked out over the front yard. The window was covered with a white and red splatter curtain, and felt almost a touch like a cliché
Halloween decoration. The only normal items in my kitchen were the stove and the fridge. My stove was the standard black and white electric kind, and my fridge was an off-white double-door covered in tourist and geek magnets.
    On the right side of the living room's entertainment center was a hall that led to two bedrooms and a bathroom. The bathroom, located in the front right of the hallway, was decorated in the same theme as the kitchen, only with an Alfred Hitchcock spin. The tiles were a shiny, clean white, like they'd been soaked in bleach for a week. The shower curtain was white and blood splattered, just like the kitchen curtain. The sink, as clean and white as the wall and floor tiles, was nestled into a black granite counter top. Hygienic trinkets were sporadically placed on the counter around the sink, and a washcloth was flung over the hook-shaped arch of a silver faucet. A mirrored medicine cabinet hung over the sink. By far, the favorite part of my bathroom was the bathmats. They were white, and turned crimson red whenever they got wet. Sometimes I'd just stand in my bathroom and slowly drip water onto the mats until they looked like a crime scene. Perhaps it wasn't Loki who was the crazy one after all.
     My room was tucked into the far right corner of the house. My queen-sized bed rested in the upper right corner of the room, its royal blue sheets awaiting my arrival for a morning of sweet dreams. The four white pillows were stacked at the head of the bed in pairs, and my onyx hued nightstand was home to a small lamp and a pile of recently read books. At the far end of the room was another window covered by a light blocking, black curtain, and to its left was a black dresser. Random items rested on top the dark wood, seemingly meaningless to the untrained eye. A baseball cap here, a necklace there. All of the things on the clothing filled piece of furniture was personal to me. A small, happy memory of my past.
     In the right corner of the room, on the left side of the window, sat an overflowing bookshelf. From ceiling to floor, books of all kinds covered the wall until it looked like a forest of inked pages and creased spines. About three-fourths of the books I owned were shoved onto the six shelves. If someone decided to cut out the back of the shelf and shine a light through the books, the rays would never see the other side of the room. There were simply too many books for anything but dust to pass through the minute crevices in between the covers. That corner was my favorite spot in the entire house. This fact became glaringly obvious if you walked into the corner and saw the spot in the rug that had been worn down to measly fibers by my butt.
     The guest room was located on the left side of the house. It was, interestingly enough, decorated in emerald green and gold. Its setup was a mirror image of my room. The queen bed, adorned with an emerald green comforter and two golden pillows, was pushed into the top left corner of the room. A glittering gold curtain hung open over the window in the center of the far wall. A bare, lightly stained dresser was wedged into the right corner. A small bookshelf was crooked into the far left corner, and held the books that the entertainment center and overwhelmed case in my room couldn't. A large painting of a golden waterfall was hung between the bed and books. I'd painted it when I had still lived in Florida. It was my artistic take on a waterfall located in the Rainbow Springs State Park. Personally, I wanted to go back and repaint the scene. Unfortunately, I would never allow that to happen.
     Loki walked past me, gliding his tall form to stand in the center of the living room. His eyes moved over everything, taking in every last detail possible with his frosty blue eyes. I watched him as I nestled my jacket onto its coat hook. He walked up to the entertainment center, seemingly intrigued by the random items placed on the dark wood. He grazed his fingertips over a small music box, then over an antique frame that held a photo of me and a beautiful young redhead. Even if I could have seen his face at that moment, I'm sure it would have been unreadable. After all, it had been mostly unreadable for the entire time I'd known him. Maybe I just sucked at human interaction. I was betting on my shitty social skills as being the reason why I couldn't read him, and not the fact that I'd only known him for two hours.
     Once he'd had his fill of the knickknacks, he turned around to look at the rest of the living room. He stopped mid-spin as his eyes fell on something he deemed interesting. He stepped closer to my couch, maneuvering around the coffee table with his eyes glued to a painting mounted over the dark blue microfiber pillows. He was staring at my painting of the star cluster NGC 2074. It was one of my favorite photos that NASA had taken of the Large Magellanic Cloud. Dark gray, red tinged clouds spread up from the bottom of the painting. The clouds reached for a swirl of turquoise and bright green and yellow. Bright stars were smattered through the astral landscape. It was as if a dark rainbow confection had nestled itself in the heavens, and the twinkling stars were only too happy to have the colored company. He studied my painting, his eyes dancing over it as if it held the secrets to the universe and he only had a short time to figure that secret out.
     "Do you like it?" I asked, moving into the room behind him. I tossed my keys onto the coffee table and hooked my thumbs through my belt loops. Loki broke his gaze away from the painting to glance over his shoulder at me. A small breath of air escaped his lips in the form of a chuckle, his thin mouth curling upward in a small smile. He reminded me of an unapologetic kid who'd been caught peeking at the Christmas presents. He turned away from me to stare at the painting again.
     "Yes. It is exquisite," he said.
     "Thank you," I said, taking a step closer to him. "It's nice to know that someone appreciates my artwork for once."
      His spine rolled up, the new posture bringing him to his full height of taller than me. He pulled his hands behind his back, clasping one set of slender fingers around his wrist to secure the position. He turned to me, surprised doubt clear as day on his handsome face. "You made this?"
     "Mhmm," I nodded. He stared at me for a second, looking as if he were wondering how in the hell I could possibly paint something as intricate as a star cluster. Nothing boosts a girl's confidence like a dude looking at her like he'd finally realized that she might not be an idiot after all. Without saying a word, he once again turned back to the painting, his hands still firmly latched behind his back. I rolled my lip under my teeth and gripped it, stepping forward to stand next to him.
     "It's um...it's a star cluster. It's located in a galaxy far, far away." I explained, glancing up at him. "Kind of like Star Wars."
     Loki's eyebrows furrowed and he looked down at me, thoroughly confused. "I have never known a star to participate in a war."
     My eyes widened on their own and I pursed my lips to keep a laugh from rudely exploding out of my mouth. Licking my lips, I cast my eyes to the gray carpet, praying that I wouldn't offend the crazy, pop culture deprived, hot man with my insubordination of openly laughing at him.
     "I do not understand what you find so amusing," Loki said. From his tone alone I could tell that I'd ticked him off. Oops! Well, you can't please all the people all the time, even if you're trying to please them. Life lesson learned.
     Lifting my head, I gave him a watered down version of my "you-poor-thing" look. "Oh, hun. You need to be educated in the world of George Lucas films."
     His frown deepened, his eyes increasing their cold fierceness as he glared down at me. "Who is George Lucas Films and where is this world located?"
     "Hollywood, California." I stated, succinctly. Quickly, I changed the subject. Having his harsh gaze locked on me as if I were a kidnap victim with a vast knowledge of CIA intellect was not exactly how I wanted to spend my evening. Grabbing his hand in mine, I set myself on the task of taking him to where he would sleep for the night. "Let me show you to your room."
     I squeezed between his body and the couch. My eyes were level with his chest, our bodies pressed together in a way that would've made a lesser woman turn redder than a ketchup smeared firetruck. Then again, a better woman wouldn't have been thinking of running her hands over his chest to pull him down for a kiss. A better woman, I was not.
     Shoving the thoughts to the back of my brain, I pulled him down the hallway. Leading him by the hand to the room honestly wasn't the best idea either. He was probably smart enough to follow me without me dragging him along like he was a freakishly tall five year old. Plus, my skin felt like it was on fire when it came in contact with his hand, and that seemed wrong. I shouldn't have that kind of physical reaction to a stranger. Right? If I was going to have that kind of reaction to anyone, it should be to Ronan. I'd known him longer than I'd known any other male of the human species. Isn't that how it usually works? You're more attracted to people you've known for long periods of time? I needed to research this stuff.
     "That's the bathroom," I said, pointing to the lightless lavatory. "If you want, you can take a shower. I have some clothes that you can borrow, if you'd like, so you won't be wearing dirty clothes on a clean body."
     "I would be most grateful," he said with a small, graceful nod. "Thank you."
     I gave him a much less graceful nod back. He moved like a lithe ballerina in even his most finite of movements. I moved like the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz. "Of course," I said, flashing him a small smile.
     I turned around and tugged him further down the hall, stopping in front of the closed guest room door.
     "This is where you'll be sleeping for the night," I said, letting go of his hand. The fire that had so wonderfully burned my skin faded to a sharp tingle. I refrained from shaking my hand to get rid of the sensation, and used the hand to twist the doorknob instead. Discreetly wiping away a sensation wasn't as bad as openly flopping your hand around, right? Pushing open the door, I stepped inside and flipped the lightswitch skyward. "I hope you like it."
     Loki took one look at the room and smirked at me. "Were you expecting me?"
     Hello. James Dean? I thought to myself. Um, yeah. You're fired. We found someone hotter. Sorry 'bout your luck, kid.
     It took me a second for my brain to reform words. Is this what happens when people fall in love? Do they rapidly lose their intelligence as if they were having a waking lobotomy? I mentally smacked myself, scolding the very notion of falling in love, and harshly reminding myself that it is impossible to fall in love with someone you don't know. The internal whack recalibrated my thought process to that of a person who had common sense and a lower sex drive.
     "Oddly enough, no," I said with a nervous chuckle. I stepped into the room. "I just liked the color scheme."
     "As do I," he said, following me into the center of the small space. His eyes wandered around, a heartfelt smile tugging at his lips.
     "I can tell," I replied, crossing my arms over my stomach. I lifted one arm vertically, resting it between the valley of my breasts to press my right index finger against my lips. I watched him as he once again surveyed a room of my home. He skimmed his gaze over the emerald and gold-embroidered comforter, frowning at the simple, metal bedframe. Well, the whole heartfelt smile thing didn't last long. His eyes traveled up the wall, and once again stopped on a painting. He narrowed his eyes at the golden falls. He seemed perplexed.
     "You have golden hued water on Midgard?" he asked, taking his eyes off of the painting and fixing them steadily on me.
     I smiled behind my finger. Taking a step forward, I lowered my hand away from my mouth, resting it instead on the collar of my Led Zeppelin shirt. "Unfortunately not," I said with a lopsided smile. "That's just how I chose to paint it."
     "May I ask why you chose to paint it such a color?" he asked. He took a small step toward me. I nodded, taking my own a small step toward the painting and away from him. I did not need to have my mind clouded again by his body being next to mine.
     "When I was painting it, I thought that water is sort of like gold to the human body. Consciously, humans want gold because it means that we are rich enough to own it, and being rich makes us feel alive. Subconsciously, humans want water because it keeps us alive. The feeling you get when you purchase gold or riches and the feeling you get when water slides down your dehydrated throat are pretty much the same. It's a pure, simple, soothing joy. And, how cool would it be to see a gold waterfall. I mean, seriously?"
   Loki had closed the space between us as I'd been speaking, taking a spot to my left in front of the painting. He smiled down at me, his face once again conveying that he was delightfully stunned by my profound insight. Or maybe he was delightfully stunned at how I could go from being deep and thoughtful to facile and childish faster than a cheetah on case of Red Bull. Then again, that wouldn't be delightfully stunning in the least. No, that would definitely fall in the category of horrifically appalling.
     "Where, precisely, are these falls located?" he asked, his smile downgrading to a smirk. In that moment, I wished that James Dean hadn't bitten the dust in a car crash. He and Loki would have one hell of a smirking contest.
     "Rainbow Springs State Park in Florida," I said automatically. For the second time that night, my brain finally caught up to what Loki had said five minutes before. I needed sleep if I was going to be this slow on the draw. "What's Midgard?"
     "It is the title given to your realm," he said, slipping in between me and the painting. His body was dangerously close again as he slipped by, and I froze like a frightened opossum. "There are nine realms," He continued, grabbing a book off of the shelf to my right. He took a few steps backward, reclaiming his original spot in front of my painting. The second he stood more than a foot away from me was the second the tension drained from my rigid muscles. My metaphysical body slumped. Thankfully, my physical body stayed in place.
     Snap out of it, Alex! I admonished myself. You're being ridiculous! This man is a stranger, who is off-the-wall insane. You've never had this sort of problem with hot guys before, so why start now? Stop acting like a starry-eyed school girl and be the hardass you claim to be!
     I was right. I needed to swim my way back to the surface of reality. Yes, this man was quite possibly the most handsome male that I had ever laid my deprived eyes on. But, he was also a deranged stranger who was claiming to be royalty from another part of the universe. No one was pretty enough for me to get all wishy-washy over, dammit! Especially people that made the Son of Sam seem moderately sane. In that instant, I prayed that Loki didn't like dogs, and made an early New Year’s resolution to stop being such a horny female.
     "There is Asgard, where I come from, Vanaheim, Alfheim, Nidavellir, Svartlfheim, Hel, Muspelheim, Jotenheim, and your world, Midgard," he explained, cracking open the book to examine its pages.
     "That sounds like one hell of a Scandinavian mouthful," I replied, filled with my newly repossessed snark.
     "Where did you think they acquired the titles from?" Loki asked, glancing up from the copy of Grimm's Fairytales that was cradled in his long fingers.
     I blinked at him, utterly confounded. Did he honestly mean what I thought he meant?
     "You mean to tell me," I started, turning toward him, "that the Scandinavian people thousands of years ago got their mythological mumbo jumbo from you?"
     "Technically, they obtained it from Odin," he replied. His eyes settled on the old book as he flipped a yellowed page.
     "Odin. As in the Norse god?" I asked, incredulous. Why did I think it was a good idea to let this guy stay in my house again? Oh yeah. He's hot. Way to think with your invisible dick, there, Alex!
     "Yes. To the people of old, he was considered a god simply because he prevented the Frost Giants from annihilating them. He brought weapons and magic that they could have never comprehended otherwise, and worshiped him as a god for something the rest of the universe already understood." He looked up from the book, locking his hard gaze on me. Blue orbs swam in a sea of pure loathing. The sheer magnitude of how deeply the emotion ran in him was enough to make me want to squirm. I didn't, though. Point for me. "Humans are fantastically idiotic. I'm not entirely sure why he saved them in the first place."
     I frowned at him. He sounded like me on one of my bad days, only much more serious. Actually, he sounded like me from two hours ago, but I was actively ignoring that fact. He spewed stories about other worlds, basically said that he hated humans, and was incredibly rude. Not to mention the fact that he was nuttier than squirrel shit. Plus, he shifted between emotions so quickly that it was like I was looking at an octopus. And the worst part was, I'd invited him to stay in my house. Looked like I was going to be barricading my door!
     "Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, there, professor," I said sardonically, tightening my arms over my stomach. The next words that came out of my mouth completely bypassed my brain-to-mouth filter. "But, to be honest, I actually agree with you."
     Way to be consistent, Alex! I thought to myself. I promptly told myself to shut up. I actually listened to me for once in my life, and the voice in the back of my head stopped talking.
     Loki pulled the book away from his face. His eyes were wide and his eyebrows had crawled their way up his forehead. His thin lips parted slightly. He was shocked, yet again. Nice to know I could pull of stunning a crazy man multiple times in one night.
     "Do you?" he asked, his eyebrows knitting together.
     "Yeah," I said, bobbing my head once. Quickly, I changed the subject so I wouldn't further agree with anything else that Charles Manson Part Deux said, and so I could hightail it out of the room. "Well, I'll let you get some rest. Enjoy the books and the shower time."
     I spun around on my heel, taking elongated steps toward the open door. Getting everything settled in for the night around the house and locking my bedroom door behind me sounded like a marvelous idea. Unfortunately for me, Loki's smooth baritone voice stopped my plans from advancing any further than the door jamb.
     "Are these all of the books that you possess?" he asked.
     I stood in the doorway with a hand on the white trimmed frame, and heaved out a sigh so big that my shoulders moved with it. I stared at the blank, white wall in front of me as he continued to talk. Not that I was fully complaining; he could read the phonebook and turn a girl into a puddle of goo.
     "In Asgard, we keep a grand library of books in the palace."
     My body, against my mental wishes, wheeled around at the mention of a library. It was a life goal of mine to own a huge house that held an equally huge library. I felt kind of like Belle from the Disney version of Beauty and the Beast. Give a girl your gigantic room of books, and she'll marry your furry, douche ass. But, I had to hand it to that French chick, she got Stockholm Syndrome for the right guy. With my luck, Loki's library was the one for the town and he was simply a homeless man who'd concocted an elaborate imaginary world to make his every day life seem better. Then again, homeless dudes didn't dress like they'd just popped out of a Tolkien novel.
     I reeled my runaway thought process back into the brain boat. Loki was staring at me yet again, his face passive and his eyes sparkling with amusement. How in the hell did he manage to pull that off? Most people couldn't manage to look passive even if they'd had acting classes that were used for the sole purpose of seeming indifferent. But here this guy was, somehow being amused with his eyes and uncaring with his face. That took skill. I internally shook the thoughts from my head, replacing them instead with my usual resolve to be snarky.
     "Well, it isn't for lack of trying on my part," I said, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans. "I have more books in my room. And, lamentably, I can't fit a library in this house and still be able to live in it. After all, I'm not alien royalty, so I can't afford a palace. Enjoy your shower."
     Before Loki could open his mouth to respond, I turned around and booked it out of the room.
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Paradigm Shift