The following evening follows suit of the previous, and then the next, and the next, and he's realized they have fallen into a routine of eating and drinking and laughing. Usually they talk about books, but sometimes things like her work, and his transition back into "life." To his surprise, the God of Mischief reasonably likes this toned-down lifestyle. Besides, he enjoys Tatiana's little breezy comments. She's got wit that one, sly and quiet, but there. And she appears to enjoy him in turn.
One night he's taken to pace, as he does, when he leans over the back of her particular armchair to emphasize a point. Oh, he does enjoy hearing her breath hitch, and watching her pupils expand every time he nears. This instance is no different. However, instead of rearing back as she normally does, Tatiana draws nearer. She reaches out to finger the hair lining his chin. The god doesn't move as she strokes, outlining from his jaw to just above his lip. She meets his eyes slowly, a colour rising in her cheeks.
"You didn't have this before," she says shyly.
"No, " he agrees.
"It's…interesting."
The god smiles. Her fingers brush his upper lip accidently with the motion. "How so?"
"Oh, just you," she replies vaguely, withdrawing her digits, eyes shielded. He's disappointed.
And then, not. She's never touched him before-at least, not whilst he was conscious. More than once in his comatic state he had sensed (or seen) her clutching his hand, run fingers though his dark locks, touch his pale cheeks. She was a deeply sensual person, much like himself. Touch was important to her. It defined relationships. It healed.
If anyone else had dared such impertinence, the former prince might've sliced off their fingers himself. Or magicked them into something unpleasant-say, stone, or wood.
She is the exception. Her touch restored his calm. The fire that built in him through his days alone, fanned by circular throught, could be cooled with Tati's frivolous chatter and humored quirk that was her smile. Besides, his powers are waning with every day spent so disconnected from his realm. Such a spell would be a waste. He needs something to replenish himself. And preferable soon.
-XXX-
He is very interested in Tony Stark's visit to the city and his housemate's place of work. Tatiana can't seem to explain the inventor's motivations. She simply shrugs. "How should I know? He and Pepper come and go as they please-besides, it's nothing but a benefit for the gallery."
Though, perhaps not a benefit to him. Could Stark have figured something out? Did he know where Loki now resided? The man had more connections than SHIELD. It was a realistic possibility.
The god wasn't as concerned for himself as he was his reader. Loki could slip out from the Avenger's grasp (and had done so on multiple occasions). Tatiana didn't have that skill, unfortunately. She was something of a vulnerability of his. His, even though she didn't quite know it yet. The thought pleases him.
"And you're having dinner with him?"
"And Pepper," she confirms. "Will you be okay for the night?"
Loki resists the urge to roll his eyes. "I believe so, Tatiana. I shan't starve."
She smiles at this. "Good to know."
He found it amusing she cared so. If he hadn't assure her, what might Tatiana have done? Frozen a few sandwiches? Cook him a feast to be neatly packed and labeled in her in fridge? It was an endearing thing.
"Will Stark be making any business deals with you?" He doesn't know how these things work. But he knows politics.
"Probably not. He'll make any sort of offers to Charlene, like donations and stuff. But it's not likely. This is just kind of a night off for them-and I'm the paid entertainment."
Part of him finds this a little humorous, yet another finds the suggestion offensive. He frowns, slightly, knowing this was not too far off from the mentality he'd once (and likely still) possessed as an Asgardian prince. Loki says nothing, though, but lets her continue the chatter.
If he wanted, he might convince her to let him come. See Stark. Figure out the man's motives. It would be easy-Tatiana would be happy to let him go. But he won't exert himself like that. Let her have her dinner. Afterwards, he would discern whether the Iron Man had any ulterior motives to dining with his, Loki's, reader. The night's events could ultimately alter the god's plan (not that he had much of a plan in place-yet). It may be a break. Or it might very well be what send him "outta Dodge," as he'd heard Tatiana quote once.
He isn't quite ready to leave yet. Not by a long shot.
-XXX-
Saturdays are godsends. I'm a sleeper-sleeping in is as natural as breathing to me. I can make it all the way to noon if left undisturbed. Which, is a rarity when you've got a cat like Win in residence.
This Saturday is no different from the others. Win hops on the bed, landing on my chest, around nine. I roll over, hoping the little beast will get the message. No such luck. He shifts to come near to my face, crying loudly. He wants breakfast. And damnit, he wants it now.
"Now that I've got a roommate, why can't he feed the damn cat?"
Winchester cries again, poking his grey head in my face, brushing my cheek. I feel pinpricks of his claws as he kneads my arm I have slung over my forehead with his paws.
"Go away," I grumble. "I fed you before bed. You're going to get chubby."
He disagrees, wailing.
After a little more whining (on both sides) I rise. I'm not happy about it. Winchester bounds down from the bed. I swear, he looked smug. Brat. At this rate, how am I going to handle children? That is assuming someone would ever want children with me.
I shrug on one of my silky bathrobes, tying off the sash before I open the door. Once in the kitchen I feed the little demon before propping my half-awake body against the granite countertop to watch Win feed. Cats eating has always been something intriguing to me. I mean, half the time it looks like their choking. And they can't seem to chew/swallow with their mouths closed.
Looking around, I see that Luke has been thoughtful enough to start a pot of coffee. Tempting as it is, aroma of finely blended ground swirling about the kitchen, I decide I don't want to wake up quite yet. Maybe later. As for now….bed.
Cresting the top of the stairs, though, I am greeted with a sight that wakes me. Accidentally. I'm sort of shocked awake.
The bathroom door opens and closes before me as Luke steps out in all of his damp, half-naked glory. I am privy to a vision of the wiry muscles that make up his arms and chest, the snake of hair extending past the towel line, and the deliciously creamy skin. He's built like a Greek god. No Apollo, but maybe a Hades. Darker, slighter…but an exquisite figure, nonetheless. I freeze on the stairs, eyes wide as Luke crosses the hall to his room. A squeak escapes, though, and the pale god finally sees me.
To my horror, he doesn't move to shield me. He doesn't slide into the bedroom, or stutter out an apology. Instead, Luke watches my mini-freak out with a smirk. Superior little smile in place, he says sweetly, "Oh, I didn't realize you were up. I apologize, Tatiana."
"Uh, it's okay," I mumble, ducking my head.
"No," he insists. "I've frightened you."
That's not quite what he has done- - -there is nothing frightful in my reaction. A smirk plays about his lips (which, I note unwillingly, are well-formed, and look very soft). Dryly, I look down again.
"You know what? I'm just going to go to mine room, and you should go to yours, and we should pretend this never happened. Okay?"
Luke shrugs. "If that is what you would prefer."
It isn't. "Yes."
-XXX-
We're at the grocery store the next day when I start thinking Luke might have intentions toward me that go deeper than "friend."
While examining the tomatoes (it was a task, let me tell you), I hear a faint sound from behind me. I assume it's Luke, who I sent sulking to the dairy aisle to pick up some eggs. That's why I don't look back right away, until someone say, "Big dinner planned?"
I spin. "Joseph!"
The doctor stands, sheepish, dressed in a burgundy sweater and jeans. I've never really seen him in anything else except scrubs before, so it takes me a minute to absorb his appearance. He grins, towering over me.
"What are you doing here?" I ask stupidly.
He lifts his shopping basket pointedly, and I feel like facepalming.
"Right. Shopping, duh." I close my eyes briefly. "Um, no I don't really have a dinner planned. Just stocking up, you know."
"Lot of food to be stocking up with."
"Well, she is feeding two now," a cool, accented voice says smoothly. Luke takes his place by my side, icy eyes directly on Joseph's level. He's being cold, which surprises me. I mean, this guy saved Luke's life. "Three, if you count the cat."
"Of course," Joseph replies, blinking. He too is thrown off by Luke's tone. "I didn't realize you were still there."
"Yeah," I say before Luke can respond. "Luke's been settling nicely. Um, that's a really nice, uh, cauliflower. Where'd you find it?"
Joseph jerks his thumb behind him. "Produce."
I don't mention we're in produce at this moment. Instead I smile. Reaching subtlety behind me, I find Luke's hand, squeezing. "Shut up. Shut up. Shut up."
The doctor looks somber, disappointed even. Guilt fills me. Strained, I smile.
"I haven't seen you since our coffee date. You must be really busy." We'd exchanged a few texts, and made plans to see a movie "sometime," but this had fizzled recently.
"I've been on-call a lot," he explains. "But I'm still game for that movie."
"Oh, yeah. Totally. You text me, okay?"
Looking back, I see Luke tighten his lips. I turn to Joseph, still smiling.
"I had a lot of fun last time," I tell him. "Can't wait!"
Joseph nods, thoughtful. We exchange only a few more words before parting ways. I retreat to Cereals, Luke following me sullenly, while the doctor goes to check out.
"You didn't even say twenty words to him," I hiss. "What was that about?"
"I don't like him," Luke says shortly, examining the selection of oatmeal. He lifts a maple and brown sugar flavor off the shelf.
Incredulous, I take the oatmeal from his hands, forcing him to look at me. "What has he done to you? Obviously something, as you managed to convey a shitton of loathing back there."
Luke shrugs.
"He's a good guy," I tell him. "And if I'm dating him-"
"You're allowing yourself to be courted by him?" Luke scowls.
"Uh, yeah. Hence the coffee date, and probably the movie next week."
He doesn't speak for the rest of the shopping trip. I, in turn, ignore him. It's got a level of immaturity equal only to that of a thirteen-year-old girl's (junior high is a sad, sad time, and I am not proud of my actions). The silent treatment extends through the drive, and even as we (or rather I, as Luke watches from the dining room, impassive as always) put away the groceries. He doesn't properly speak to me until dinner time, when he informs me under no circumstances will I date "Walker."
"What? I'm sorry, when did you become my mother?" Not that my mom ever had control over who I was dating.
"He's not good for you, Tatiana," Luke says, eyes hard, lips a tight line. "You could do much better."
"Like you?" I bite back. Instead, I cross my arms.
"This isn't up for discussion. My life, Laufeyson."
For a moment, his eyes darken. A foreboding expression crosses his face. I stare, unwilling to back down though I'm nervous. If I don't claim my ground here, I might as well let him rule my life. He eventually decides it isn't worth it. Turning back to his dinner, Luke grunts.
For that, I am totally going to makeout with Joseph in front of him.
-XXX-
Things are starting to heat up! In more than one way...haha.
Reviews would be lovely!
