Chapter Thirty Five
Pepper came. Her breath was held, head thrown back while straining through the split second of abject ecstasy. Black spots and bright flashes of color painted the inside of her eyelids, and a keening sound caught in her throat. But her ministrations continued at a fervid pace until her lover found his own release. Only then did she collapse against his chest to enjoy the afterglow of their lovemaking.
"Must have been one Hell of an or…"
Soft laughter interrupted his comment, and she responded, "I had twelve percent of an orgasm."
A chuckle rumbled in Tony's chest. He arms closed around her to keep her snuggled there when she otherwise might have moved. "Can it be Christmas every day?"
"But then you'd become desensitized to Christmas. Eventually, you'd get sick of fifteen hundred calorie turkey dinners, tinsel, and presents wrapped in garish paper. Please tell me you remembered to return that ugly sweater you got for Steve."
He stiffened. "Maybe?"
"Tony…"
"But it has a stick of butter silk-screened on it, and he's always wailing about how modern butter can't compare to butter made back in the thirties and forties. You can't get any more perfect than a sweater with butter on it."
"You can't…" She paused mid-sentence and then shook her head. "You know what? Give him whatever present you feel is fitting. If you gave him something nice, he'd realize I badgered you into it, and the important thing is the time you put into selecting a present."
"Oh ye of little faith. You shall see the brilliance of my gift-selecting capabilities in the morning when we raid that pile under the tree. Speaking of. Lights, Jarvis."
Lights brightened, illuminating their bedroom and the rumpled bed linens that had been haphazardly kicked on the floor. A trail of clothes was strewn from the entrance foyer of their apartment where they'd engaged in a hasty quickie to the bedroom where they'd taken the opportunity to really enjoy one another. Good thing no one had been out in the hall earlier. They might have embarrassed themselves with all the giggling and moaning they'd gotten up to.
"Get up, Peps," Tony said. "We have to actually move so I can give you your present."
"Wait. Let me make sure I understand you correctly. We're here. In bed. Naked. Enjoying the afterglow of amazing sex, and you want me to move. This present is better than that massive stuffed rabbit you tried to give me last year, right?"
Pepper rolled off the bed and then strolled after him into his dressing room. There really was no masking the contents of the cheery wrapping paper printed with tiny reindeer pulling Santa's sleigh. The rectangular, flattened shape of the object inside was unmistakable, but she was still thrilled when she tore open the gift to find a painting. Being an art enthusiast, she immediately spotted telltale clues as to the painter.
"Tony, this is a Paul Cezanne," she whispered.
"Is that impressive?" he asked.
"Are you kidding me? The Card Players holds the record for being the most valuable painting ever sold!" she exclaimed. "His paintings are displayed in the most well-respected museums throughout the world!" She paused suddenly and really looked at him. "You're messing with me, aren't you? Of course you are. Larry would have explained how rare an opportunity owning a Cezanne is."
He smirked and leaned against the door jam casually. "But you can totally carry on like a chocolate aficionado being given the deed to Godiva. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. You know, in my defense, though, rabbits are soft and cuddly. At the time, I thought to myself 'what could possibly be better than a two story soft, cuddly thing."
Grinning, she caressed the wooden frame before rising to embrace her fiancé. "Thank you, Tony. I love my present, and I loved the thought put into last year's present, just not the actuality of it."
"But it was modern art!"
"So when you break your super rare, custom ordered ratchet wrench, I can totally buy you a picture of the same tool to replace it, because it's modern art, right?"
"No," he responded. "Because I'm not into art the way you are. Sure, I like buying art. I like owning art. I like how art appreciates in value, but you're the one who's cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. Or for Paul Cezanne in this case." There was something expectant about his gaze when he folded his arms across his chest. A full minute passed, in fact. "Well, Woman, what are you waiting for? Cough up the goods!"
"What goods?" She managed to furrow her brow into something akin to confusion.
"My present, and I don't want twelve percent of a present. I'd prefer the whole thing."
She had basically given herself an aneurysm trying to think of something special to get for him this year. Shopping for a man who had everything was decidedly difficult. Ever since the Obie fiasco wherein her mounting of his original miniaturized reactor had saved hisr life, getting him unique gifts had become something of an obsession. So she'd thought long and hard about what could be an appropriate gift this Christmas.
Lacing their fingers together, she pulled him from the dressing room and stopped by her nightstand. A small, oblong box was retrieved from inside and passed over. Red and green ribbons tied the box closed.
The ribbons were hastily discarded on the floor in his haste to reach the goods inside. Various emotions played out on his face while inspecting the watch lying on a bed of cotton. Naturally, it wasn't just any watch. The band had been created by linking together non-symmetrical bits of metal salvaged from the tower after the Chitauri building. One little link still had art of a serial number etched along the side from the stainless steel range hood. Another link had been made of part of the enamel around the fireplace. She'd spent hours selecting the right kind of tile and color for that damned fireplace only to have it destroyed a month after completion.
A message had been engraved on the back casing of the watching mechanics. "Proof of the day Tony Stark learned to be selfless."
Tony dashed his thumb under his eyes. Then he smiled and blew out a shallow breath. "I fucking love you, Woman."
"I love you too."
Bing Crosby was crooning out the strains of White Christmas when Jenny flopped onto Bruce's lap. Her cousin's tan sofa groaned under her She-Hulk-sized weight. A giggle bubbled into being when Bruce yelped in surprise by the sudden glomping, and he wasn't able to move his science journal fast enough to save it from being crumpled under her ass.
"It's technically Christmas," she said. "You're not allowed to look at anything science related until the day after Christmas."
"That's cruel and unusual punishment," he responded.
"Don't care. We get to spend so little time together, so from now until tomorrow night- technically, I guess you could say 'tonight'- you have to pay attention to me rather than your whatsits. And haven't you heard of a tablet? So much easier than paper magazines." She deposited a brief kiss on his cheek.
Bruce dislodged the journal from beneath her butt and carefully folded it in an attempt to smooth out the creases before tossing it on the coffee table. "There's something calming about old fashioned magazines. Okay, you have my undivided attention. How are things going on California?"
"Swimmingly. The partners of my new firm are eager to integrate some of my ideas in the practice. Everyone is much more accepting of me when I'm in my She-Hulk form, and the West Coast Avengers are off to a smashing start. How are you adjusting to Loki?"
"He's a constant source of annoyance, but we owe it to Thor to at least attempt understanding how his bag-of-cats-crazy brother thinks. At any rate, they'll be leaving for Asgard after New Year. I can deal until then."
Jenny pulled a little packet of Santa wrapping paper from her pocket. "Merry Christmas."
"You didn't have to get me anything. You know how I feel about Christmas."
"I know, I know. Christmas is commercialized madness, a Christian holiday melded with a pagan holiday melded with capitalism until it's so nausea-inducing it should be obliterated from our collective conscience."
His expression deadpanned. "Don't get carried away, Jenny. I only said it was a capitalistic holiday founded on religious insanity. But thank you for the gift."
True story, Jenny sucked at wrapping. She just didn't have the patience, so her gift wasn't meticulously placed inside a box and then wrapped up with pretty paper and bows. The hastily folded wrapping paper packet contained a couple of ziploc bags full of seeds. On little pieces of cardboard, she'd jotted down "cardamom' and "black anise," because Bruce was constantly complaining about not finding the good kinds of spice outside of India, and he was super into cooking his own Indian dishes lately.
He smiled and hugged her shoulders. "This is perfect. Now let's see if I have any kind of a green thumb. With any luck, they won't wither before I get one harvest out of them." Then Bruce wiggled around to reach under the sofa where he produced a present for Jenny.
Her present turned out to be a green cashmere turtleneck she buried her face in and hugged against her chest. An appropriate gift, considering She-Hulk had decimated her collection of turtlenecks and sweaters in favor of more revealing garments. Hopefully this one stuck around because Bruce had given it to her. She-Hulk was inordinately fond of Bruce. Plus the sweater was green.
Bucky swiped his fingers across the surface of the e-reader that was his Christmas present from Steve. Lights were dim, allowing the glow from the nine foot tree to cast a pleasant atmosphere inside the lounge where Steve, Bucky, and Loki had gathered. Outside, the whisper-quiet fall of fat flakes of snow intensified. A rare Christmas snowstorm was in the works.
Being the resident bachelors, hanging out in the lounge together rather than spending the night in their separate apartments had only made sense. He'd arrived first to read a few chapters of one of the numerous Star Wars books already loaded onto the e-reader. Steve had wandered down not long after to help himself to the carafe of egg nog in the fridge, but they'd both been surprised by the god of mischief slinking into the lounge to sprawl on the second sofa.
"Stop staring at me," Bucky said without lifting his glance.
Whatever tune-he assumed it was Asgardian in origin-the god of mischief was humming paused long enough for Loki to grumble, "Make me."
"Fine," he fired back. Producing a present from under the sofa, he tossed it in the Asgardian's direction. "Don't say I never gave you nothing." What had possessed him to buy a present for their nemesis? Having spent time on the wrong side of the law himself, he maybe… possibly… by the tiniest of margins… felt a miniscule kinship with Loki.
A dark brow popped up when Loki caught the present out of mid-air. He swung himself into a seated position and stared down at the gift blankly. Stunning the god of mischief speechless was an accomplishment worth crowing about, as it was clear Loki was uncertain how to react to being given a Christmas present. "For me?"
"Wait! I mistook you for Steve, because Steve and you totally look so similar I thought you were him and he was you. Give it back."
The Asgardian's response was immediate. "No." And his hands possibly tightened ever-so-slightly around the gift.
For fuck's sake, he hadn't anticipated Loki having a very real emotional reaction to being given a Christmas present. That tiny seed of empathy wormed its way deeper in the soil of his gut, producing a strained expression. The Asgardian wasn't used to receiving presents. That was sad as fuck.
Leaving Loki to sort out his emotions, Bucky retrieved a second present from beneath the sofa and passed it over to Steve. "Guess I'd better give you this then."
"Thanks, Bucky." Steve's gaze lingered on Loki momentarily before he peeled open the corners of his present rather than simply tearing the paper open. He unfurled a powder blue sweater that had been rolled up inside the paper. A stick of butter was silk-screened across the front. The captain chuckled. "Because butter is one of the things I definitely miss from our original time period. Where in the world did you find this?"
"Target. They had a whole display in a rainbow of colors. Saw it, instantly thought of you, and knew you had to have it for Christmas."
Bucky's glance then returned to Loki in time to see the Asgardian wiping a genuine smile from his face-there was something distinctly startling about seeing a genuine smile on the god of mischief-before opening his present. A plastic horse produced by Breyer was contained therein.
"So what is it with you and horses?" Steve asked.
The Asgardian's reluctance to immediately answer the question was also startling. He opened his mouth, closed it, and traced his fingers over the bold blue lettering on the yellow box. Finally, he whispered, "One of my sons is an eight-legged horse." Something sentimental melted the aloof look that seemed ever-present when it came to Loki.
"I'm sorry, did you say…"
Loki interrupted Bucky's statement to respond, "Yes, I have a son. I am a master of magic. Shapeshifting is an old trick and allowed me to take the form of a mare, at which point, I produced an eight-legged offspring whom I named Sleipnir."
Stunned silence.
Steve was first to break said silence when he said, "What you do with your body is entirely your own business, and no one should judge you for your decisions."
Surprise registered on the Asgardian's face, and then he inclined his head. The man's fingers hooked slightly, middle finger and ring finger swirling in small circles to produce a green aura. The aura coalesced into a pair of small presents wrapped up in bright green paper. One appeared on Bucky's lap. The other on Steve's.
Bucky shrugged and opened up his present to find a little silver egg.
"When we are next on the opposite side of the battlefield, as will inevitably happen given my changing moods, throw one of those at my feet, and you will have a momentary reprieve. Spells of transporting are contained therein. It will take no small feat of strength and ingenuity for me to return from Niffeilheim to continue my pursuit."
It was their turn to look stunned, and Bucky inclined his head. "Thank you. It may surprise you to hear this, but I hope we don't have to meet on the field of combat."
Steve also said, "Thanks. We'll use them wisely." It was at that point Steve discovered a small packet taped to the inside of the sweater's collar. His brow furrowed, and he carefully unwrapped the paper to find part of an old handkerchief embroidered with small red flowers and sandwiched in between two pieces of plexiglass to preserve it from being exposed to the air.
Bucky knew the item was immediately recognized when Steve turned luminous eyes in his direction, eyes that glistened with moisture under the multi-colored lights. The handkerchief had belonged to Peggy.
A/N: And that concludes Christmas at Avengers Tower. I was going to not bother writing the Cap/Bucky/Loki scene, but that wouldn't have been fair to them. They deserve Christmas too.
Next Chapter: Bruce gives Tasha a blood test. Pepper sees something wildly unexpected on her way to take Bruce to lunch.