They worked at the office together for as long as he could remember, and each day she sat just directly in front of him, red hair twisted or down and curled, or else put atop her head in a bun if it was a lazier type of day. He hated to admit it but he could've looked at it forever. Dammit he was staring again, and she caught his eye this time from across the hall of the rented out building, decked out in green and red for the annual Christmas Office party. He swallowed hard and turned away, trying to focus on what Fandral was telling him about the latest one-night stand gone wrong and drinking deeply from his coke and rum. God, he was going to need something much stronger than this to blame the high flush on his cheeks on.

"Loki, you were staring at her again,weren't you?" Sif leaned over to whisper in his ear. The pair of them had been flat mates since they'd gotten a job at the same office right after graduation, and she'd heard him commiserate about the red head one too many times (she'd yelled at him for it after the third time.)

"Shut up, Sif. Dance with me until she stops looking." Loki said as he grabbed her hand and pulled her out to the dancefloor. It was filled with those they worked with, both old and new, wives, girlfriends, boyfriends, and the like swarming on the cramped space of floor, and with ease the two disappeared onto it.

It might've worked if Nat and Clint hadn't appeared nearby soon after. Dammit, was there no escape from the torment of seeing her lips quirked in that stupid, smug smile of hers, the quirk or her eyebrow, the way her blue eyes were bright as they fixed-.

No. No, he needed to focus on something else. He closed his eyes and tried to lose himself to the thump of the bass in his ears, the way it pounded in his chest, how Sif's backside pressed against his in a rather more intimate way than he was used to. And had she taken off her heels?

"I think you've been sitting behind a desk way too long. Where'd you learn to dance like this?" Natasha's soft voice asked in his ear as she turned to press her lips to his throat. He very nearly stopped moving all together, the evidence of his need trapped between her thigh and his own now. Oh he was in over his head. Putting on a cool mask he looked down and raised his eyebrows.

"It's not as though it takes effort," he murmured, internally wincing. Way to fuck that up. She gave the quietest of laughs.

"You know, I'm not here to torment you, no matter what you seem to think," she said quietly, pressing her body harder to his in a direct contrast to what she was saying. He called bullshit, and was about to come up with an excuse to leave, eyes watching as Sif and Clint sauntered away with self-satisfied smirks on their faces, when the song changed. Slowed down. Natasha stopped grinding against him-and he stifled a groan at that-in exchange for looking up at him with curious eyes, as if she couldn't tell what he was going to do next. Hell, Loki didn't know what he was going to do next. Those around them were swaying gently from side to side with the slower tempo, glassy eyes fixed on their partner. He could see Steve and Tony joking with one another near the center, the latter's cheeks very pink.

"Do I really have to do everything?" He heard Natasha mutter before she took his hands in hers and wrapped them around her waist, her own flying up to circle around the back of his neck. He felt himself flush again, no matter how he yelled at himself to keep cool, and with ease they managed to move back and forth on the spot. Loki didn't meet her eyes, though, no matter how often she cleared her throat to try and get his attention. Was this some sort of joke to make him look like an idiot in front of her? Was it at Barton's request, he wondered? The man and he had never gotten along and he couldn't see why this would be any different.

"Am I so boring that you can't even look at me?" Natasha asked, voice dry. It was the last straw. With a muttered excuse he let her go and stepped away, eyes drinking in the last sight of her that night, he thought, her brow drawn in confusion, lips parted to say something when he broke away and moved into the stairwell. Sif called out to him before he left but he ignored it in favor of escaping. He couldn't breathe, couldn't deal with the humilation and joking right then, not in front of Natasha of all people.

God, he'd really found a way to mess it all up, hadn't he?

With a snarl on his lips he made his way down the stairwell to the coat room, mentally berating himself for how much of a prat he'd been, but not anywhere near considering going back to apologize. He'd just avoid her for the rest of his life, sure she'd already written him off, anyway, as an asshole. Most everyone else had, and the fact that Sif had stuck around for so long as his friend was a testament. Perhaps he ought to reconsider buying her something for Christmas and opt to-.

"Laufeyson."

Shit. He winced slightly before turning around to face a furious Natasha. In the stark white light of the hallway he could take in the definition of her body in the skin-tight leopard dress she looked as if she'd been poured into, the high color in her cheeks, and the look on her face that said she was going to murder him and make it look like nothing had happened. 'Shit.'

"Natasha I-."

She shoved him backwards into the coat room, slamming the door shut behind her before rounding on him. It was all he could do to not gulp in terror at the fury in her bright eyes. Oh hell, he hadn't expected her to be so offended she came to call him out.

"What the hell is your problem?" She demanded, hands finding her hips and her lips pursed tight enough to make him reconsider even showing up. He'd seen her make that look to a client who hadn't taken her seriously because she was a woman; now he didn't answer to anyone but her when they needed to get a hold of him to renew his contract. He'd seen her turn it on Fury, their boss, and the man had reconsidered not letting her come to work in sweats and a hoodie on less than great days. And now it was his turn to try and not cower in fear as it was turned on him.

"Look, I'm sorry for leaving you," he said, silvertongue quick and darting from his mouth to wet his lips, watching her focus on it. "But you didn't have to come down to tell me how angry you were. You didn't have to leave Clint to come and say that; just ignore me and we'll pretend like it never happened."

"Are you really that stupid?" She demanded, advancing on him until he knocked hard into the hung up coats just behind him, turning quickly to the right to try and back up further towards the wall. Her eyes flicked up for a moment, and had he not been so interested in watching her expression change he might've taken notice. Again she advanced, and again he retreated.

"No, I like to think I'm quite intelligent, smart enough certainly to know that you are furious with me and that I ought to remove myself oof-."

She molded against him, her body pressed hard to his, arms thrown back around his neck as she kissed him like it was the last night on earth, as though her life depended on it. A thousand cliches rolled around in his head and none of them came close to the perfection and desperation laced on her lips and flooding his veins. He moaned and instantly went lax, one hand burying in the flames she called hair, tightening as though to remind him that this was very much real. She slammed him up against the wall, and without so much as a word between them she jumped to straddle him, his arms immediately shooting out to grab her and hold her close. Oh, wow. She was hot and liquid beneath his touch, fingernails clawing at the back of his neck hard enough to make him shudder and moan into her open lips, her tongue licking into his mouth as she sought to eat him alive. He wasn't going to complain, not at all. Nope, no complaints from him, especially not while her hips rocked against his and-

"Good God, are you not wearing-?"

"Shut up. I've been waiting to do this since last year. Fuck me, dammit," she moaned into his mouth, dragging her teeth and lips and hot breath down his jaw to his throat, biting and sucking as she went.

"Wait, I don't have a-."

She rolled her eyes, dipped a hand into her cleavage, and pulled out a condom, presenting it to him. "I'm clean and I'm on the pill, too. You?"

"Yeah, totally clean." It helped he was clinically single and pining over a certain red head.

"Good." She threw the condom to the side.

Had he died and somehow found a really unorthodox version of heaven? Well, it was the season of miracles, and as though to continue on that thought somehow his hands managed to unzip his pants and pull himself, aching and desperate for some friction, and guide himself into her. She whimpered, stilling atop him as she allowed herself time to adjust, and he turned them around to balance her between the wall and himself, taking some of the strain off the both of them.

"Okay, I'm ready," she promised through clenched teeth as she met his mouth with hers again, moaning loudly as he finally started rutting into her, all sort of finesse and technique lost as he buried himself in her again and again. His forehead pressed against hers, hands supporting her by the hips and mentally reminding himself to buy Thor dinner for all the workout sessions the man had given him gratis at the gym he trained at. He really owed him.

He had to admit he was ashamed to not have lasted as long as he'd hoped, though if he was honest he wanted it to never end, to never have to pull out of her slick heat. She seemed to feel the same, digging her heels harder into his back after she came around him, Loki spiraling after shortly after, panting as he held onto her for dear life.

"Okay, give me ten more minutes then take me home?" She asked, kissing him quickly before he let her down. "I just have to kiss a little more ass then I want you to take me back to my apartment and add a dent or twenty to my mattress. Please?" She asked, readjusting her skirt and grinning up at him as though they hadn't just fucked two minutes ago, as though his come wasn't leaking down her leg and-oh he had to stop thinking about that.

Was this real life?

He found himself nodding-because who the HELL would say no to that?- and she stood on her tip toes to press her lips to his cheek.

"Merry Christmas, Loki," she whispered, pushing past him to get to the door. Before she left completely she turned back to grin again. "And I hope you like breakfast because I'm kind of amazing at making it."

He nodded and waited until the door shut to slump against the wall, staring up at the mistletoe above him and wondering how the hell he'd gotten so lucky that-. Wait. She'd backed him up there, hadn't she? He grinned, reaching up to grasp the fake plant and pull it down.

Maybe they'd find a creative spot for it at her apartment.

A/N: Merry early Christmas everyone! This came as a prompt from menolly23, so I hope you enjoyed it, and thanks so much for the prompt and to everyone for reading!