Just something quick and fluffy for a new fave pairing. Knocked this out so fast, I ain't even spell checkin' it.

The crazy old wizard from some forgotten realm taking aim at Darcy was a bit of a surprise. Loki sprinting to intercept the yellow orb that was heading directly toward his favorite little mortal was not. She yelped when the God of Mischief crashed into her, wrapping his arms around her small frame. There was a biting cold and the sensation of falling before the pair slammed into something hard and rolled, disorientation increasing. When they finally stopped, Darcy was on top, still cocooned by Loki's arms, holding her tight against his body. She twisted her head up to get a look at where he had safely transported them to, a brisk wind whipping her hair.

"Well, that was not…unfun," she said, chancing a look at the god beneath her. Darcy's eyes widened with concern when she finally looked down at Loki. His face was a grimace of pain; his jaw clenched tight, eyes screwed shut and brow furrowed.

"Ohmygod!Areyouhurtdidyougethitwhat'swrong!" The words left Darcy in a rush with no sign that Loki had even heard her. Her palms pressed on his chest, propping her up just slightly. She tried to shake him alert; worry filled her voice as she screamed, "Loki!"

"I'm fine," he struggled to gasp out.

"You don't look fine!" she countered, her voice ratcheting higher.

Loki opened his eyes to glare at her, pooling tears making the green shine clear. Slowly, and with as few words as possible to hasten his suffering, he ground out, "Your knee."

Darcy was confused. She was fine. Her knee was fine. "What about my kn…" Realization dawned and she scrabbled off of him, careful not to cause further injury. Especially there.

As soon as she was clear, Loki rolled away and half-curled in on himself as gracefully as he could, stifling a groan as he went. A sheepish "sorry" was pro-offered that he waved away, trying to blink away the last of the tears.

A few minutes passed in silence before an uncontrollable giggle came from Darcy's direction. Before Loki could admonish her for finding joy in his misery, a trait he normally had no trouble admiring, Darcy spoke up. "Sorry. But maybe the Royal Quartermaster needs to rethink the design of your battle gear." She couldn't help the giggles that continued. Had he been in a less painful mood he might have playfully swatted at her for her impish glee but there was still a glitter of pain that stabbed at him and silenced any rebuttal he might have had.

Loki worked slowly to stand, and finally reaching his full height, took a calming breath. Darcy, in turn, hopped to her feet in an apparent show of painfree mobility. "You okay?" she asked, still smiling.

Loki gave her a sidelong glance, a small smile beginning to creep across his features as the pain drifted away. Darcy's barely contained mirth could be quite infectious and was a balm to his wounded…spirit. "I do believe that I shall live. Another day, at least," he replied, holding out a hand to her, ready to transport them back to the fray.

"Glad to hear it," Darcy replied, taking his hand. Loki yanked her close, draping an arm around her shoulders. She looked up, smiled and sweetly informed him as they disappeared back to their previous location, "I hate damaged goods."

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