*This is a oneshot that was originally requested by Phantasmagorical Me, for a oneshot in which Emmie runs into a boy, goes out to coffee with him, and is horrified at how boring normal relationships are compared to her own relationship. I kind of made it a tad more serious and reflective, so I hope that's okay. It hadn't been originally requested as a Valentine's Day oneshot, but I felt like making it just that.

This one is taking place, actually, in the exact same universe that TMTA took place in—you could practically say that this oneshot is cannon in the TMTA universe ;)

Valentines are Overrated

Emmie panted slightly as she walked down the street carrying the suitcase. She glanced down at her case and smiled to herself. She could just imagine the faint clinking of the little glass vials inside. Emmie had managed to get her hands on some highly toxic chemicals, and was just carrying them home to her apartment. She wasn't sure what she was going to do with them just yet, but surely she would think of something.

But right now what mattered was getting them home. She didn't want them out in the cold too long—she wasn't even sure exactly what these chemicals were, and she wanted to keep them out of the cold, heat, or direct light until she properly figured it out. Accidentally releasing the toxins or damaging the vials or tampering with the effects of the poisons might be disastrous. And right now, it was pretty cold outside… she hadn't checked the calendar recently, but she thought it was sometime in February.

She glanced over her shoulder again to make sure nobody was following her before she rounded the corner—and then she bumped into someone.

Emmie toppled backwards, unable to find her balance again as she crashed to the ground and lost her hold on the suitcase. She landed with a gasp and scrambled up, not even bothering to check if her fall had caused her to tear her jeans or her sweater, too busy searching for the suitcase.

"Hey, sorry, sorry," someone said.

Emmie looked up to see the person she had bumped into. He was a young man of maybe eighteen or nineteen, and was several inches taller than her—kind of lean but probably not an athlete, so just maybe she could take him down if she had to. But most importantly, he was reaching for the handle of the suitcase that lay on the ground by his feet.

"Don't touch that! Are you insane?!" Emmie shrieked. "You'll break the bottles-!" She froze midsentence, realizing she was going to draw way too much attention to herself.

The man had stopped dead, though, his eyes widened slightly in surprise. His fingers were barely touching the handle of the suitcase, and he didn't make another move to pick it up. "Um… okay… uh, sorry, again…" He removed his hand from the handle and backed away a step.

Tentatively, Emmie shuffled forward and gingerly picked up the suitcase. She bit her lip nervously as she lifted it to her ear and very gently shook it. She didn't hear the tinkle of shattered glass… that was good. She turned to the one who had knocked her over and potentially put their lives in danger. "You utter moron," Emmie hissed. "You're lucky they didn't break." She started to take a step towards him, dozens of ways she could punish him flashing through her mind… twist his head to the side and break his neck, take his wrist in her grasp and wrench it to the side until it broke… yank his arm out of its socket… strangle him with his own sweater sleeves… bash his head into the sidewalk… She stopped, realizing she was in real danger of losing it. She had to hold it together if she didn't want to get on anyone's radar- it had been risky enough to steal these vials of Substance Skull, and she didn't want to run the risk any higher of getting discovered by SHIELD. Emmie swallowed and glanced down, taking deep breaths. She couldn't lose it.

"I really am sorry," the man repeated. "I didn't mean to bump into you, just rounding the corner and all, I didn't see you. Are you alright?"

Emmie met his eyes and frowned slightly. "Er… I'm okay," she said awkwardly, already starting to back away.

The man stepped forward slightly for every shuffle backward she took. He smiled slightly. "Well… it looks like you might have scraped your elbow there, Miss…"

Emmie ignored the hint for her to give him her name, instead just looking down and twisting her arm around to look at her elbow. Yeah… she had torn the elbow of her sweater when she fell, and her skin was slightly chafed. "Yup. So it is," she acknowledged curtly.

"That's a shame. I hate it when a pretty girl gets hurt. At least it looks like you're tough, though; you're not crying about it. It's even worse when a pretty girl cries," the man said with a little too much casualness in his voice.

Emmie blinked in surprise, the compliment not even registering in her mind for a moment before she realized what he had said. Had he just called her pretty but tough, and complimented her on it? She stared at him for a second, bewildered, her mouth hanging the tiniest bit open.

He looked slightly amused at her speechlessness. "…Aww, come on. That can't be the first time someone said you're pretty."

Emmie continued staring in confusion. "Uh… I mean…" Well, no, it wasn't the first time someone had called her pretty, but it was the first time someone her age had said it, and meant it as, like… a pickup line… Emmie took two seconds to appraise this boy again. Before, she had only looked at him in the sense of how he sized up to her as an opponent if she had to fight him. Now she noticed how he had shaggy, soft-looking dark brown hair, a little bit of scruffle on his chin, and intelligent, friendly blue eyes over a charming smile. He was… kind of cute, she thought, though it had been quite a while since she had last even tried considering whether or not a guy was cute. "…I hadn't really thought about it if anyone else said I was pretty," Emmie said uneasily, feeling uncertain of how to respond.

He put his hands in his pockets, tilting his head slightly. "That's too bad. You should get to hear things like that."

Emmie said nothing. Um… flirting? When she wasn't trying to manipulate someone into giving her something or winning their trust? Not her strong suit.

"I'm DeWhitt," he offered, giving her a kind of curious look, as if getting the feeling that she was seriously feeling way out of her depth. "Can I ask what your name is…?"

Emmie's brow furrowed and she considered lying, blowing him off, or telling the truth. She took another second to search his gaze, wondering what she was supposed to do. "…I'm…" What the hell? Where was the harm? "Emmie." She wouldn't tell him her last name, at least.

"Emmie, huh? That's pretty cute. It fits you," DeWhitt commented.

Emmie narrowed her eyes and was tempted to draw her lips back in a snarl at his observation. "It's short… for Maria," she said through gritted teeth. "And don't call me cute."

DeWhitt held his hands up slightly, realizing he had hit a sore spot. "…Got it." There was a moment of silence, as if DeWhitt was trying to get his bearings and calculate how he was supposed to approach this weird girl. "…Anyways, Emmie, since I knocked you over and made you tear your sweater, the least I can do is take you out to coffee. What do you say?"

"Coffee," Emmie repeated blandly. She couldn't believe this. She was getting asked out on a date. She, of all people, was getting asked on a date. She very badly wanted to burst into laughter and tell DeWhitt exactly who and what he was dealing with, and demonstrate to him exactly what she was capable of, and just how big of a mistake he was making by flirting with her. But on the other hand, she was almost giddily curious to see just how far she could take this and fake being a regular girl. A slight smirk spread over her lips. "Why not?"

DeWhitt looked a little relieved. "Great. I know this great little place. Follow me."

Emmie glanced down at her suitcase. Well… if she was going to be in a coffee shop, at least it would be at room temperature, and examining the vials could wait until later. She started walking after DeWhitt, feeling herself grin in amusement when he slowed so he could walk beside her. How bizarre, to have someone who was so painfully oblivious to the possibility of being killed by her, wanting to get close to her, and without the slightest trace of mistrust or fear. Funny to think that people in normal relationships never had to think about things like that… They continued in silence for a few moments, Emmie wondering how one was supposed to small talk. "So…"

"So," DeWhitt echoed.

"Uh, coffee, huh?" Emmie said lamely, cringing inwardly. Ugh. Trying to be normal for real kind of sucked.

"Yeah, I love coffee. Totes can't live without it. My ex-girlfriend used to tease me and call me a coffee junkie," DeWhitt smiled faintly. "You drink coffee much?"

Emmie scratched her chin awkwardly. "No, not really," she admitted. She couldn't recall ever drinking coffee, actually… as if the SHIELD facility would let her have caffeine? Ha! The very idea was laughable. A sociopathic teenager on a caffeine buzz bouncing off the padded walls capable of making weapons out of a flip-flop? Maybe it was just her that sucked at being normal…

"Well, here we are," DeWhitt announced, stopping in front of a cozy-looking little coffee shop. "Glad I got you this far. I was afraid I'd have to spend all of Valentine's Day alone." With a little laugh, he pulled open the door and held it open for Emmie. "Ladies first."

Emmie was taken aback, though. "It's Valentine's Day? I didn't even know…"

DeWhitt raised his eyebrows. "What kind of girl forgets Valentine's Day?" He winced at the sharp look Emmie gave him at that comment. "Never mind."

Shivering slightly, Emmie stepped into the shop and looked around, shuddering noticeably. The place was decorated with pink and white streamers, and paper hearts plastered the walls. Evidently it had been primped up for Valentine's Day. How had she missed it, this stupid holiday? She needed to pay more attention…

"So what'll you be drinking?" DeWhitt asked quietly, leaning close to her so he didn't talk too loudly in the hushed place (mostly it was young couples murmuring over their coffee to each other, lending the place a kind of muted atmosphere).

Emmie peeked at the menu. It was filled with lots of unfamiliar words like "latte," "espresso," "macchiato," and "Frappuccino." She had heard those words before, but had no idea what kinds of drinks they applied to. "Um… I'll have whatever you're having," Emmie muttered, feeling hot under her collar, her fingers itching with frustration at her being overwhelmed.

DeWhitt just nodded and said something to the barista too fast and complicated for Emmie to catch—something about raspberries and caramel and make it two and two shots of something, both with whipped cream. When he finished ordering he turned back to Emmie with a kind of sheepish look. "I know it's kind of a girly drink, but it tastes really good, so I don't care if people make fun of me for it."

Emmie nodded, pretending to understand. Finally, something that felt a little familiar… pretending to be sympathetic and understanding even if you weren't.

The drinks came, and DeWhitt paid for them (Emmie was relieved that he had paid for the drinks; she hadn't even brought any money with her…), and then he led her over to a little table for two in the corner of the shop. Emmie took great care to place the suitcase between her chair and the wall to minimize the chances of it getting knocked into by anything. When she straightened again, she noticed that he was watching her with acute curiosity.

"So, Emmie," he started. "What's with the suitcase?"

Emmie stiffened, and she felt her fists clench in her lap. Suddenly ideas flickered through her mind—why did he care about the suitcase? Maybe this wasn't an accident. Maybe she had been set up. Maybe SHIELD had tracked her down, and DeWhitt had been sent to capture her, and this wasn't a stupidly innocent date after all. She knew she shouldn't have trusted him… Her gaze inconspicuously flicked around the shop, noting possible escape routes, then triangulating the approximate trajectory that it would take for Emmie to scoot back in her chair, lift the chair over her head, and then swing it down to crack DeWhitt's skull…

"I mean, you said there were bottles in there. Are you a bartending student or something?" DeWhitt joked, blissfully oblivious to the thoughts racing through his date's head.

Emmie relaxed. Bartending student. Ha. Okay, he was joking around about it. She cracked a half-smile and took a sip of her coffee. "Heh… no, not a bartending student… I, uh, have an internship at a pharmaceuticals company," she improvised. "The suitcase has a couple of little samples that I was supposed to… take home and… yeah…" she trailed off.

"Pharmaceuticals? Yikes, I knew you had to be out of my league," DeWhitt chuckled. "You're into science and chemistry and that kind of thing, then?"

Emmie nodded. Well, at some point in her past she had been into math and science… not exactly chemistry, but more like physics… but whatever. "And what about you?" she forced herself to ask, knowing that that was what any polite young girl on a date would ask, even though she actually had not the slightest interest in what it was that DeWhitt was interested in.

He tapped his fingers on the table. "I'm taking some classes so I can become an English teacher. I'm a total right-brainer. But if you're into all that science and stuff, you must be a left-brainer, huh?"

"Well, that's a no-brainer," Emmie giggled, and DeWhitt grinned at her joke. Suddenly Emmie felt herself smile a little easier, for a split second understanding what it was like to be on a date with a guy, and wanting to impress them with your charm and wit. What a totally foreign feeling…

"I think I'm going to get another coffee," DeWhitt announced. "Do you want another?"

Emmie glanced down at her own cup. She had barely had any of it, too busy being stuck in her own head. "Er… no, thanks, I'm still working on this one." Her eyes followed him as he nodded and stood, going up to the counter again to order another raspberry caramel whipped cream with two pumps of something drink. She studied him idly, trying to think. Was this actually… possible? Being a normal girl and having a, like, normal relationship?

She considered the ramifications of that idea. Hmm… that would mean she'd have to quit constantly thinking about murder… that in itself was impossible… she'd have to make sure DeWhitt understood the possibility of getting stabbed… which would mean she'd have to explain to him why… which would mean being open and honest… which would mean trusting him… and that would mean he probably wouldn't want to fight all the time, even though that was, in her opinion, one of the best parts of a relationship…at least, with Loki it had been… she'd have to, like, clean up her place so he might be able to come over from time to time… would he want to meet her mother? Eww… would he want her to meet his family? Did he even have a family? Did she have to get all sappy and actually take an interest and ask if he had a family, and if he did, would she actually have to get, like, emotionally invested in their lives? Hang on, if she were to get into a relationship, she'd have to be emotionally invested in her boyfriend. Ugh. Emotional investment was so tedious and not her thing. Plus the whole "you shouldn't kill, maim, or injure your boyfriend unless you want to go to court and then probably jail because you know you sure as hell are guilty" thing… Yeah, okay, this sounded boring. Boring and tedious and… yeah, this probably wasn't going to work for her. Talking about nothing but school and how it was going (ha! She didn't even go to school), family problems (like he would even begin to comprehend her family problems), and having to actually offer comfort to someone for their insecurities and doubts. She loathed the idea of offering comfort, and receiving comfort was just as bad. Just… ewww. Okay, maybe she wasn't ready for any kind of semblance of a normal relationship.

Just then, DeWhitt sat back down across from her, leaning across the table to whisper, "I just realized that barista is my ex-girlfriend!"

Emmie quirked an eyebrow and chanced a glance over at the woman writing a name on a cup as someone ordered. "Oh, yeah? The one that said you're a coffee junkie?"

DeWhitt flushed slightly. "Uh… no. Different ex." He began absently tapping his fingers on the table as if he was drumming.

"A different ex," Emmie echoed, feeling a smirk on her lips. "Mind if I ask how many exes you have?"

DeWhitt looked slightly uncomfortable. "Just a couple. I've only had a few good relationships, and most of the rest of them turned out to be a little psycho. I think I'm like a crazy-chick magnet," DeWhitt confided.

Emmie had to bite her tongue to stop herself from bursting into laughter at this. A crazy-chick magnet? He had had psycho girlfriends before? Yeah, right! "Or maybe you just like the crazy chicks," Emmie observed. "And that's why you keep ending up with them." Seriously, you just walked up to me of all people on the street and asked me on a date. Maybe he has an internal crazy-chick compass that leads him straight to crazy-chicks without him even realizing it.

DeWhitt shrugged helplessly. "Yeah, I don't know. It kind of sucks."

Emmie said nothing for a moment, unsure of exactly where to go from here. Curiosity about his previous girlfriends was still pricking at her. Belatedly she noticed that he was still drumming on the table with his fingers. "…What are you doing that for."

He paused for a moment before realizing what she meant. "Oh, the drumming thing?" He resumed his drumming with his fingertips. "Just habit. I'm a drummer. I'm in a band."

"Cool," Emmie said dismissively, knowing that he was trying to steer the conversation away from the topic of his previous girlfriends by distracting her with something else. "So how can you say that your other girlfriends were psycho? How were they psycho?"

DeWhitt sighed. "Well…" he looked briefly back towards the counter where the barista ex-girlfriend stood. "She was actually kind of physically violent. Like, on meds to keep her temper under control so she didn't go off on someone kind of thing, and—this was back in high school, by the way—one day she came to school and said that she had gotten into a fight with her mom and ended up actually, like, hurting her mom. I told her that I really didn't think it was a good idea for us to keep going out, and when I told her that, she slammed me against the wall and threatened me… so yeah," he shrugged uncomfortably.

Emmie stared at him, trying not to smile. Yeesh. He had to have an internal crazy-chick compass. "And were all your other girlfriends like that, too?"

DeWhitt shook his head. "No, she was the worst in that way, but there was one who cheated on me with my best friend at the time. There was one who left me at a concert we went to and I didn't hear from her again until I saw her two weeks later making out with some guy in a park. And then there was another one where we just really didn't get along, and it got to be a pretty dysfunctional relationship."

Emmie perked up at this last one. "Dysfunctional how?"

He stopped drumming his fingers and instead began stirring his coffee. "We said a lot of mean things to each other," he said carefully. "I mean, she started saying things, and I started saying things back, and I figured I should end it."

"Why?" Emmie asked, feeling lost. They were just saying things, and they broke up over that?

"Well, like," he laughed a little. "If you're with someone, and all you're doing is insulting each other between having moments of connection, to the point where you don't even know why you like them anymore, what's the point of being in that kind of relationship? No one wants that. So I got out of it."

Emmie looked down at her coffee, remembering her relationship with Loki. Nothing but insulting each other between moments of connection, to the point where you don't even know why you like them anymore… and it had been some of the best moments of her life. She had lived on that love/hate heartbreak and reveled in the insulting just as much as the moments of connection. No one wants that? Well, Emmie kind of wanted that… she kind of really wanted that… But if DeWhitt didn't want that, then oh, well. He could go find some other crazy-chick with his crazy-chick compass. She grinned at the memory of slamming Loki against the wall and threatening him, insulting him and kissing him and being pinned to the wall, using a dagger to cut her name into his shoulder after he did the same to her (oh, if only DeWhitt knew about that… the look on his face would be priceless…). Normal relationships were so… boring in comparison. How was she supposed to be with a guy who didn't appreciate a good assassination plan as much as she did? Someone who didn't mind getting slammed into the wall and was willing to pin her against the wall every once in a while, and who she could insult without worrying if she was going to hurt his feelings? Pfft… that sounded so… fluffy and boring. She tried to picture it… her, holding hands with DeWhitt and cuddling with him on a park bench as she apologized to him after saying something mildly teasing, simpering and flirting and being oh-so-soft. Gag. She'd rather be single and able to keep her murderous urges to herself without worrying if she might hurt someone she cared about.

"What are you grinning about?" he asked, sounding a little defensive.

Emmie met his eyes again, realizing she was still smiling to herself at the memory of her and Loki's beyond-dysfunctional relationship. "…Thinking about my ex," she answered airily.

DeWhitt looked a little wary as he asked, "…What happened?"

Emmie hummed in thought, tilting her head in thought as she glanced up at the ceiling. What was a good explanation? "Oh, you know. I never called him back after our last date, even though I promised I would. Haven't seen him since. I heard he got into a little trouble with the law."

He looked baffled and slightly alarmed. "Um…"

Emmie snickered. "It wasn't exactly a normal relationship. I don't think you would have approved." She laughed darkly to herself and shook her head at DeWhitt's slightly hurt and bewildered expression. Emmie lifted her coffee mug to her lips and tossed back the rest of her drink, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she stood up. "Well, DeWhitt, I had a nice time, but I think it's time I left." Emmie pushed her chair back under the table and briskly picked up her suitcase.

DeWhitt looked up at her, his expression obviously disappointed. "Are you sure?" He started to push back his chair so he could stand up. "Can't you hang out for a bit longer-?"

Emmie firmly placed her hand on his shoulder and pushed down, pinching slightly to keep him in his chair and prevent him from following her. He winced in pain at her strong grip on his shoulder, and he looked at her with wide eyes. "Believe me," she advised. "I've got to go. Unless you're secretly a complete masochistic and sadistic glutton for punishment, it's not gonna work out." She offered him a sweet, patronizing smile and then turned on her heel, straightening the collar on her jacket, and pushed open the door.

Jeez, what a day. Emmie had been on her first date in… possibly ever. Probably the last date in ever, too, she reflected. Because there was no way she was going to meet another Loki, and there was no way anyone else could halfway cope with being in a relationship with her. Eh, who cared? She didn't need to be spending her Valentine's Day with a guy. Maybe that was for some people, and maybe she could do that with the right guy, if she ever saw him again. But today? Well, today she didn't need anybody to be her Valentine. Valentines were overrated.

Squaring her shoulders, she started walking away from the coffee shop, pausing for a minute to glance back inside at DeWhitt. He was sitting alone at the table now, hunched over his coffee mug despairingly. He glanced up at something, though, and Emmie noticed that the barista ex-girlfriend had come out from behind the counter and was saying something to DeWhitt. He seemed to hesitate for a second before nodding and gesturing to the chair across from him, now empty. The barista took the seat and said something, and DeWhitt laughed a little, smiling hopefully at his ex-girlfriend. A vague, bitter smile tugged at Emmie's lips as well. Maybe the poor guy was a masochistic glutton for punishment after all. Just not in the right way for Emmie.

She laughed a little and shook her head, continuing to walk. He might end up having an okay Valentine's Day. Maybe. And Emmie would, too. She was perfectly okay with being alone for now, at least. Her eyes lifted to the sky briefly, at the hazy sky with its watery, weak sun. A wry smile twisted her lips as she thought of Loki. Well, if he were here, she might not mind spending a Valentine's Day with him, though what they would do, she had no idea. A vague thought flashed through her mind, but then she pushed it away. For a split second, she had hoped that Loki was having an okay Valentine's Day, wherever he was. For a split second, she had wished that he was here so they could have an okay Valentine's Day together. She shook her head, trying to dismiss the silly sentimental idea.

She bitt her lip and couldn't help but look up at the sky again. Then, in a whisper so quiet she could barely hear it herself, she said, "Happy Valentine's Day, god of mischief and lies."

Then, feeling incredibly stupid and self-conscious, she strode off down the street. She had to remind herself that normal relationships, full of affection and sweetness, were beneath her, and beneath Loki, too.

Note from LoquaciousQuibbler: Y'all know that I don't actually have the same views on romance and relationships that Emmie does, right? And I'm totally not condoning the totally abusive and dysfunctional relationship that Loki and Emmie have, right? Good lol. Just making sure that's entirely clear, because they are totally screwed up and I totally know that. Just writing from Emmie's point of view here, so yah lol.

Anywho, my disclaimer on that aside, I don't know exactly how the tone for this one turned into something so contemplative. Just happened that way. Like Emmie, I'm spending my own Valentine's Day as just okay, not with a guy, and it's just… okay. Lol you know? But even though Emmie and I are having our bachelorette party at my house (and anyone else can feel free to join us lol), it's always nice to have a Valentine's Day with your sir or madame of choice.

DeWhitt is based on a real person that I know, and is one of the most adorable and yet sad people I have ever met, and he is a total masochistic glutton for punishment, though I don't think he realizes it. Putting him in here is like my own little secret tribute to him, even though he most likely will never know about this oneshot. *puts my fingers to my lips* Shh…

Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this odd little story, and I hope this successfully fulfilled Phantasmagorical Me's expectations of her request. Happy Valentine's Day, and I hope yours is even better than okay, whatever you end up doing for your V-Day. Please favorite, follow, and review!