In many ways, Geneva is similar to other European cities. I've only ever traveled twice before this trip—once to Italy, and once to France—but the splendor of any European town at night can't possibly be understated. Switzerland has its own share of unique qualities of course, just like any other country. The mountains, for example, have been the most breathtaking sight.
Though, as much as the daytime views are beautiful, nighttime is when the city really boasts its beauty. Lights cast multi-colored shadows against the blankets of white snow lining the streets, and every now and again, a clump or two will fall from some of the roofs.
I rub my gloved hands together and let out a hot breath between them as I take it all in—counting my blessings and thanking Pepper inwardly a thousand and one times, while the twinkling lights reflecting off the Rhone River captivate my outward attention.
It's New Year's Eve, and there aren't nearly as many people in the streets as I thought there'd be. Tony wanted to take a car to wherever the place is that we're going, but the rest of us opted to walk, and enjoy the scenery on our last night here.
"It's just around here," Pepper says, glancing back us from up front with Tony. I'm given to understand that it's a cross between a lodge and a club, but I won't know for sure until we get there.
My heeled boots click loudly against the cold asphalt as we turn we corner, and I hear the place before I actually see it—big open glass windows, and a plethora of tall tables inside. There are some tables outside as well, and the first thing I notice is sound of drunken patrons standing around them, talking and laughing—celebrating.
We all shuffle inside from the cold, but only Tony, Pepper and I show any outward reaction to finally being somewhere warm enough to shed our coats. Much like everyone else, I kept it simple tonight—tight, dark jeans that slipped nicely into my boots, and a skin-tight shirt that wraps nicely around my figure. The only somewhat extravagant item on me is my necklace, which hangs off my chest and glints beautifully.
We claim our table roughly near the entrance, and I note momentarily that Loki chose the tall chair opposite me, though on the other end of the small table. I shake the glimmer of disappointment away, choosing instead to focus on the smell of food.
I look around the giant space, but I can't seem to find the source of the aroma. Not only is the room large, it's also dark, and the only sources of light are Christmas lamps lining the walls, and flashing lights on the dance floor—which cast all kinds of atmospheric shadows against the beamed roof and wooden pillars.
The space itself, I'd say, is roughly half full—there's just enough people for the occasion to feel special, but not so many that everyone blurs together. Apart from my own companions' friendly banter, I can hear a number of different people speaking a number of different languages, even over the music.
Tony and Thor wander off at some point to bring us back some drinks, and after a few minutes, the table is lined with shot glasses—two for each of us.
After dispersing them, Tony raises his wrist to look at the time. "Two hours 'til midnight," he exclaims over the music. "Let the games begin!"
I laugh as Tony demonstrably downs the contents of his shot glass, and I cheer approvingly as I do the same.
"Here, here!" Thor calls out in his deep, rumbling voice, and the others join us as well.
I cringe as the liquid the burns my throat, and grab the second shot glass almost immediately, holding it up in the air. "Here's to a great new year with old friends," I gesture to Pepper, who smiles and bobs her head responsively with her glass in her hand. "And to new ones!" I smile as I look around the table next.
Everyone smiles and cheers approvingly, and I catch Loki's searching eyes for a moment as he leans forward on his forearms. His eyes are pale enough to be colored by the lights from the dance floor spilling over us. The grin that follows doesn't entirely reach his eyes, but he does lower his chin respectfully, and holds my gaze as he takes the shot glass by the edges, and throws back its contents.
Sometime during the next hour of intoxication, Pepper and I manage to saunter off in search of food. We finally find a few buffet tables lining one of the walls, and a number of widened eyes gaze at the gloriously overflowing platefuls we haul back with us.
The plate is heavy, but I can't quite make out the sound of it hitting the wood of the table as we sit down. Hardly a moment later, the others get up out of their chairs and make their way to bring back food as well.
"Holy shit!" I exclaim laughingly as Thor comes back with two platefuls.
Loki follows shortly after. Just by their food selection alone, I'd never guess that they're brothers. Thor managed to pile on as many meats as he possibly could, and the sweetest smelling starchy foods. Loki on the other hand, came back with a plateful of prosciutto, salad, and other delicate looking foods. This time he's taken a seat slightly closer to me—taking one of the middle chairs this time, instead of the one on the far end.
"Boy's gotta eat!" Tony says, patting Thor on the back before reaching around Loki and setting his food down on the table.
"Yeah but, where's he gonna put it all!?" I crinkle a brow amusedly, feeling my inhibitions loosen just a little bit as my legs sway under the table—trying to find a place to land.
My left foot bumps against something, and I swing toward it fervently to hook my leg on it. It takes me a moment to realize that the sudden jerk in Loki's face means that it was actually his shin that I kicked, and my eyes widen dramatically.
"Oh my gosh!" I exclaim. "I'm sorry!"
His lips press together as he shakes his head sharply. "It's alright," he says—fashioning a slightly friendlier tone. Maybe realizing that my level of self control is dropping low, low, looooooower by the minute.
"When we get back," Tony says, slightly slurring his words as he points at us across the table, and then swings his finger toward Pepper. "We gotta buy a dress for the presidente's dinner."
"Ooooooohhhhhhhh," Pepper rolls her eyes toward him. "Are you wearing a dress too!?"
They've been talking about some sort of presidential dinner for five minutes amongst themselves. The rest of us have been listening patiently and waiting for the conversation to move forward, but the image of Tony wearing a dress is just too much, and I start to laugh—laugh hard.
Even harder, and harder as six pairs of eyes look at me confusedly.
"Tony—" I laugh, fanning my neck as tears build in the corners of my eyes. "Tony wearing a dress!" my voice escapes me in a shrill laugh as I lean forward onto my elbows and bury my face in my hands, feeling some soreness creep into my chest as all the air blows out of it again and again.
"It's not—" Tony gestures to me, half-smiling and laughing. "It's not—it's not that funny!" he cries out, and then breaks down into a laughter that spreads quickly down the table, to Pepper and the others.
Even Loki's sporting a bit of an amused expression as he looks across Pepper at Tony—though Loki's either handling his alcohol a lot better than we are, or is genuinely immune to the contagious laughter.
I look over the group of good looking French-speaking guys at the table next to us, following the sound of the DJ's voice announcing the next song. A familiar tune blares through the speakers, and my eyes widen with delight.
It's the electro-swing version of "It Ain't Right" by Jamie Berry—a flapper, 20's style song with a twist of awesomeness.
"Oh my god!" I raise a hand in the air, and my eyes dart back to Pepper. "Dance with me!"
"But this is weird dancing music!" Pepper sways slightly—she's never been the biggest fan of twenties-style music, even with the modern twists that I live and breathe for.
"No no no, it's not weird—I'll show you!"
Even Loki flinches as I reach out and claw at her wrist from across the table—Tony barely manages to duck under our intertwined hands as I drag her out of her chair in front of me.
"Okay here," I situate her just in front of me by our table. "Follow my moves, okay!?"
As the first few notes of the song circle around, I catch on the beat and start stepping forward and back—keeping it simple enough for Pepper to try and replicate it amidst her drunkenness. After a few moments of practice, we slowly forget about the would-be instruction and simply dance.
It ain't right to do what you do to me
It ain't right to be so untrue to me
It ain't right so baby, farewell
Pepper suddenly reaches out and grabs Tony from the table. Some other people at the tables around us have begun dancing as well, and I step back to give Tony and Pepper a bit more room as the music really picks up, and we rock out together to the beat.
And goddamn, these are the moments I live for. In the heat of its loudness and upbeat energy, a twinge of pride bolts unabashedly through my chest as I recall the hours of work that went into my training—training that now serves as an insurance policy preventing me from humiliating myself. Training that allows me to picture the dance in my mind and execute it like a damn professional.
Not a goddamn care in the world.
Tony nearly bumps into me, but I manage to step back and deep dancing. I roll a shoulder back and forward, and my hair flies over it as I spin on one heel—smiling broadly as I throw my left hand out, and look up to catch a glimpse of Loki watching me.
The DJ's voice comes on the speakers briefly, but I don't catch whatever it is that he tried to say. Aside from that, all I manage to register is that the good-looking French guys at the table next to us have now averted their attention, looking between me, and the one among them that's eyeing me wide-eyed.
I would never have become a performer if that kind of attention bothered, but this night's not supposed to be about that, so I turn and usher the rest of my group to the dance floor—though only Tony, Pepper, Thor, and Sif succumb to my insistence.
Intoxication is at max levels now, and I can scarcely feel my limbs as I let go and dance around to the beat. The trumpets, the horns, and the drums combined are a whole different type of drug to each and every one of my muscles, and the energy is just the purest, happiest goddam adrenaline-pumping bliss that I've felt in a long time.
I can't imagine anything that might ruin it.
Even as I spin to the song and land in front of one of that same guy—who reaches out and offers me a hand, murmuring something that I can't hear. I assume it's an offer to dance, and I give a carefree nod as I take his hand and let him spin me around. He keeps a respectful distance between us for the duration of the song, and even seems to know what he's doing a bit more than I would've expected.
The end of a perfect evening… The final lyrics blare out from the speaker.
I smile as I turn back to my group. My hand slips out of his unnoticeably as I clap, and sway in place slightly—forgetting to look back at him as I stumble over and hook my arm in Pepper's as she cheers approvingly.
All the adrenaline, the excitement and joy is still pumping wildly through my veins as we saunter back over to our table.
I let out a breath as I plop down into the chair, and turn toward Heimdall and Loki. "Man, you guys missed out!"
Heimdall chuckles, and I glance at Loki—who merely tightens his lips responsively and raises the corners of his brows subtly before trailing his eyes away.
"I think we killed it!" says Pepper, and I glance over at her to Loki's left, seeing her pat her highly intoxicated love monkey on the back.
"We made the freakin' annihilated the floor!" Tony slurs, and I burst out laughing at his obvious incapacitation.
A sudden movement in the corner of my eye has me making a double-take at the table beside us, where the group of guys are either laughing, pulling back, or egging on the guy I'd danced with earlier. I raise a brow amusedly as I scan their faces, and blink surprisedly as the guy suddenly bursts out from their grasp, and runs across the room.
I follow him with my eyes confusedly—noticing Loki's eyes shift slightly in the same direction—and my jaw drops as I watch him run straight out the doors without his coat on. He returns a few moments later, having plucked some decorative flowery piece from the plethora of Christmas decorations outside. Tony's eyes widen as he jumps slightly in his seat, when the guy suddenly reappears at our end of the table, and offers me a plastic little piece of mistletoe.
In this lighting, I'm pretty sure that no one can really see the redness that suddenly flushes to my face—or maybe it's still there from all the dancing.
I laugh awkwardly as I glance around my table—at some of the eager, amused faces waiting to see what I'll do. Save for Loki—who's sporting the most empty, blank expression I've yet seen on him.
"Uhh," I look back, seeing the rest of his group watching us intently as well, with smiles sprawled across their faces. I reach up reluctantly and pinch the little plant between my fingers, taking it from him. "Merci," I nod at him, and his face lights up brightly.
My brows rise confusedly as he starts saying something to me in French, but I simply wave my hand through the air in turn. "Sorry," I say earnestly. "That's all I know!"
The guy eyes me for a moment, until the realization dawns on him—on us both—that we don't share a spoken language. A genuine frown seeps into his expression, but he steps back nevertheless, bowing his head respectfully before raising his fingers up to his lips, and blowing me a kiss. I nod politely, and curl my chin inward as I rotate around in my chair, and prop my elbow against the table—cradling my reddened cheek in it.
"Well then," I chuckle embarrassedly, looking back at the table—then at Loki, who continues peering back at me blankly. I narrow my eyes slightly, as if squinting at him is going to help me read his expression.
"Hoooot," Pepper croons before taking another shot, and Loki's eyes flicker to her briefly.
Only in that brief instant do I see a hint of discontent—fleeting quickly, as he looks back down at a glass of wine I hadn't noticed before, and grasps it lazily to take a sip.
The DJ's voice suddenly blares over the speaker again, and he begins a countdown in some other language. Tony glances at his phone briskly, and looks back up at us urgently, joining in the countdown and hyping us up to do the same with flailing limbs.
"Seventeen… Sixteen… Fifteen…Fourteen…" we chant in unison—in English, thankfully. "…Five…Four…Three…Two…ONE!"
A roar breaks out in the room and on the streets, and lift our drinks up into the air. Heimdall clinks glasses with Sif while Thor wraps an arm around Loki—barely managing to coax a hint of genuine exuberance in his expression as he clinks his glass, and mutters something indiscernible to his brother.
It makes me grin, but the grin fades slightly as I look over and see Tony planting a loving kiss on Pepper's lips. Daniel's face suddenly appears in my mind, and something sinks in my chest at the realization that in a matter of weeks ago, I'd fully intended to have him with me in this moment.
The smile fades almost completely as the thought aids the depressant already coursing through my veins. Though before I can lift my beer up to my lips to further my intoxication, a sudden movement to my right catches my attention.
I look over to see the French guy standing next to me, having sauntered over from his group. I stare at him wide-eyed as an understanding grin grows on his lip. He raises a hand and lays it on my shoulder, and slowly leans in to give me a kiss on my cheek—slowly enough to let me stop him if I want to.
I'm almost too shocked for a moment to process whether or not I should've let it happen, and I watch as he turns and heads back to his chuckling friends—watching the back of his head as he walks off. An interesting character, that one. Thinking about it, I grin as I turn back to my friends—laughing as I see Pepper's jaw hanging open, and her brows drooped low in an expression of complete and utter approval.
"Gettsome!" Tony laughs, and takes another swig of his beer.
Next to Pepper, I see Thor's hand still resting on Loki's shoulder—though his expression toward his brother is slightly disconcerted, as Loki he himself is glaring at the table next to ours with eyes widened slightly.
My stomach turns over as I see his eyes move in my direction, and I look away quickly—sliding off the chair as my legs grow a mind of their own and carry me off to the bathrooms on the other side of the room.
My heels click briskly against the floors and my cheeks redden as I think about the scene I just ran away from—the French guy, my friends, and Loki. Who, if I didn't know any better, seemed the slightest bit displeased.
My hands fly up to my face, and I shake my head—mocking myself inwardly for even considering the idea of Loki being displeased. Why would that even concern me? Why did the idea of him feeling that way set my pulse racing?
God, no… This isn't the time or the place to start considering the implications. I walk straight into the bathroom and make a beeline to the sink, staring at my own reflection until I feel a bit more grounded.
After a few moments, I look down and flip on the sink—running my hands under the cool water. When my heaving chest is sufficiently satiated, I turn it off and stroll back out of the bathroom—ready for another drink.
I pushed it. I really pushed it with the alcohol tonight—I didn't even realize how drunk I really was until we left the club. And now, even though the heels on my boots aren't particularly tall, I'm still having trouble walking around without stumbling.
At some point I sway for a moment, and prop myself up against a railing—stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to regain my composure. My eyes trail over the glimmering river to my left, and slowly make their way back to the group. They've mostly stopped, but Loki and Thor seemed to have stopped sooner than the others—since they're standing closest to me.
In fact, I could swear I might've heard Thor calling to the others to wait.
"Are you alright?" he asks, looking back at me.
"Yeah," I nod, slurring my words. "I just…" I gesture back in the direction we came from. "It's been a while. I forgot limits," I stumble slightly as I walk toward them, and movement ripples through both Loki and Thor at the possibility of needing to catch me.
"I'm good," I smile at them both—holding Loki's solemn gaze a bit longer than Thor's. "I'm good…"
"You certainly don't seem like it," says Loki, and even in my drunken state, I sense the tightness in his tone—even Thor throws him a subtle glance.
"Don't worry," I grin as I step past them, and wave my arm demonstrably ahead. "Onward, friends!" I giggle, but then stumble backward a bit—accidentally bumping into Loki.
A large hand tightens around my shoulder—steadying me. I look up at him from over my shoulder, feeling his breath on my cheek as he towers above me, and peers down at my face intently.
My eyes widen as I look at him—the human furnace radiating heat amidst this freezing cold. My eyes trail heavily over the tiny bit of stubble lining his strong jaw, the angular cheekbones, and most importantly, the piercing green eyes gazing down at me with undivided attention.
I raise a finger clumsily up to my chin, barely managing to coordinate all my limbs enough to keep me upright.
A burning warmth suddenly beats through my chest. "Wow," I breathe out—and suddenly clamp the hand over my mouth as soon as it's out.
The corners of his brows rise wryly, while my eyes widen with embarrassment—no, not embarrassment. No, I can fix this—no need to be embarrassed.
"Shhhhh," my eyes narrow intently as I whisper, tapping my lips with my index finger—his green eyes flicker down to it. "Pretend I didn't say that, okay?" I turn and pat his chest.
A grin tugs on the corner of his mouth as he parts his lips amusedly—looking unsure of what to say.
"It's okay, no—shhhh," I whisper again—because no, Loki didn't hear me say that, I'm just going to pretend he didn't.
I'm going to pretend I didn't say it too, and I'm going to pretend that Loki didn't hear me. In fact, Loki is now an honorary buddy for the night—he's not actual Loki tonight, because I'd never say that in front of Loki. I'm sure he understands me.
I open my eyes and look up with him, trying to convey my mental diarrhea with a look. "Just pretend," I pause, and giggle as I jam my finger into his chest. "You're honorary Loki, so you don't tell Loki I said that, okay?" his brows furrow amusedly, but I shake my head. "No no, it's okay—it's our secret, okay?"
He parts his lips, looking confused at first, but finally surrenders a nod. "Alright—we shan't say anything to Loki," he murmurs in a low voice.
"Good, good…" I pat him on the arm as I turn back, feeling my body betraying me slowly as I stumble away from the warm blip of air surrounding him.
Home—we gotta get home.
Poor Cerys, I felt bad for her when I wrote her accidental slip of the lip. A tad embarrassing XD
This was a particularly fun chapter to write, especially with what happened with the French guy. I pretty much started writing it as soon as I posted chapter 21. And I will tell you all this - French guys really can be that forward! But they're also super respectful, which was really amazing to observe when I was in France. I mentioned a while back that I traveled to Paris, and a few instances akin to that actually happened to me too while I was there. Not exactly like Cerys, but the general idea was close, and it was truly an interesting experience to say the least lol. I was thoroughly impressed with how romantic and gentlemanl-y they were. I couldn't help myself - they're in Europe, so I had to throw a little something in there. ;)
I know many of you are probably wondering what's up with Cerys' strange abilities and whatnot, and I can tell you now that much will be revealed once they are back in the states. The chapters will probably get longer from here as well, and I'll leave you all with a little hint: "SHIELD has no shortage of enemies." -Barton
So... what's Loki going to do about that, when the danger comes?
Thank you all for your reviews, they really means a lot to me and gets me excited to keep writing the story. :) Til next time, my dears!