As of today, I've reached chapter 23, with plans up to 28. It'll probably finish up around there.
Enjoy!
-XXX-
That night, I'm interrupted in the midst of boiling water for pasta when the phone rings. I am forced to answer it with one hand, the other currently occupied with the pot of scalding water.
"Tait?"
The voice at the other end sounds surprised, as though they can't quite believe I've picked up. I squint through the steam, pushing a crying Win away with my foot. He's been sulking about the kitchen for the last hour, crying for treats, though he has a half-full bowl of dry food just around the corner. Disgruntled, he abandons me with a tangible huff.
"Yeah, who is this?"
"Joseph. Joseph Walker."
"Oh." I straighten. "Hey."
"Sorry, if I'm bothering you. I was just calling to…listen, I like you. Really like you, Tati. But my job doesn't allow for a lot of time to date….I guess what I am asking is, how serious are you? Like, casual dates or something…." He drifts off before resuming. "Solid."
At a loss, I stand in the middle of the kitchen. Joseph waits.
"Oh. Wow. Um, Joseph, you're right."
He doesn't respond right away. "…okay."
I take a breath for courage. I don't often do things of this nature. "But, um, I don't think right now would be a good time…a good time for 'us.'" I am careful to emphasize "right now." "You are an awesome guy, and any girl would be lucky to have you. But my life is a little messy right now. Any, it really isn't the ideal point for me to get into something serious."
"Coward."
There is a pause before Joseph says flatly, "It's Luke, isn't it?"
The accusation causes me to flinch. Though, that might've also been the rush of steam in my face as I lift the pot's lid to check on the angel hair pasta. Behind me, the microwave dings, letting me know the peas are done. The red sauce bubbles on the stove.
"No!" I say honestly. "It isn't him, entirely. You're just too…good for me."
He clearly doesn't believe me, but neither does he argue. I do not apologize, and we hang up on good terms, if a little awkwardly.
-XXX-
He hears every word, and cannot deny that it pleases him immensely. The doctor has been rejected. Loki's reader is now entirely his.
There are no romantic notions invested in her, but that does not mean the god doesn't want her all to himself. Distractions and attachments will weaken them (though, he realizes the blasted cat will have to say, regardless). He needs her focus directed on him.
He did nothing to encourage Tatiana to let the boy down. But he feels pride nonetheless.
-XXX-
"Charming, as always!" Tony Stark lifts his glass to me. Beside him, Pepper beams. We all raise our flutes, clinking them together, sip, then tuck in. Well, Tony tucks into a massive steak. Pepper and I chat between bites of chicken. The silverware makes faint clicks against the china. I feel oddly at ease, more human than I've felt in days.
Pepper wants to know the goings-on of the gallery. They enjoyed their tour, Tony making his usual smart-ass lines, Pepper nudging and glaring. I find them impossibly sweet. Tony wants to know what "pieces of finger-paint" he's "passed off" to us. His assistant rolls her eyes, informing him that he has "donated" two Monets, a few Asian sculptures, and a number of sketches from less-famous artists. They are attributes to our gallery. I tell him so.
"Well," the billionaire drawls. "If all you needed were a few scribbles, Miss Deror, I'm sure JARVIS could oblige you."
His computer-butler? Pepper rolls her eyes.
"No, thank you," I reply politely. "But I'm sure your-less-than-stellar handiwork shall do."
Actually, Stark was rumored to be a decent artist. He was, after all, trained to sketch for engineering. At the very least, he could draw a straight line or two. Which is more than what I can do.
Throughout the evening, Pepper apologizes for her date. I'm not one for thin skin, however, so Stark humors more so that offends. I enjoy them both a great deal.
"So, the Avengers," I say at dinner. The topic isn't one I'd wanted to bring up, but Tony had just made some pass-along comment in regards to Steve Rogers and his inability to move past anything beyond jeans and leather jackets. "I never figured you for a team player, Mr. Stark."
Tony leans back. "You'd be right. I'm not." He doesn't look the least be perturbed. "But it needed doing. I can compromise."
Pepper's lips quirk, but her boss continues.
"We worked with the time we had, and I think we came out with a decent little group. Saved the world, at least. But, you know, that's not anything in the grand scheme. Gotta look at the big pictures." He casts his eyes to Ms. Potts, as if for permission, or some form of acknowledgement. He continued. "I am proud to be a part of the team."
I listen, intrigued. Tony doesn't say much more on the subject-instead, he gets a glassy kind of look across his normally open face.
"And the fiends that fought you?" I peer at Pepper to see if this is okay. She's quiet, but not unwelcoming. "Seven-foot green-scaled freaks from a hole in the sky. They said later it didn't happen. But I was there."
Pepper starts.
"Christie's was having an 'important' auction. I was close enough to see. Captain America actually came in. He herded us to the vault. Very polite," I add, remembering though as unpleasant as the experience had been, the Captain was calm, collect, and gentlemanly.
Tony snorted. "An alien army. But more like a hoard of giant insects. They meant to…infect our world. Starting with New York."
"Why New York?" I ask. "Do villains all read the same handbook. Why not Chicago? Miami?"
Tony smacks the table. "That's what I've been asking for years! I mean, did you see Stark Tower?"
I grin. "It was shredded."
"Yeah, no thanks to Hulk." The billionaire scowls. "You'd think he's show a little consideration, seeing as we left Loki to him,the bastard- -"
"Loki?" I frown. "As in, the God of-"
"Assholes." Tony says shortly. "Giant assholes. He wrecked my tower, kidnapped Barton, tried to destroy the world….Bastard." Beside him, Pepper shakes her head. I cannot tell if she is bothered by the damage list, or the idea of Loki.
"A Norse god?" I ask skeptically.
Stark shrugs. "Yeah, gods. I mean, look at Thor. They're brothers. From some…connected universe."
The name leaves me unsettled. I've no connection to it, but for some reason the roll of vowels feels familiar.
"What happened to him?" I ask. "It wasn't exactly on the news."
"Thor took him to Asgard," says Pepper quickly. "To be punished by the gods there."
I blink. "Oh. That's a pity."
"You're telling me," Tony says under his breath. "Bastard." But the way his eyes shift, I am unconvinced. It doesn't matter to me, honestly. Yet, suspicion rises within me. Why would they lie?
Technically, it shouldn't make any difference to me.
So, I smile, changing the subject to something gentler-the technology market. Stark bounds in with full enthusiasm. He skims over his recent work. Pepper adding various moments of commentary, jumping in to mention prototype flaws, much to Tony's chagrin. He takes it all in good humor. Pretending offense, the inventor steals her glass, draining it, mocking smile playing on his lips.
They are in love. It's painfully, beautifully clear. I greatly enjoy seeing their interaction, have enjoyed the night overall, and wish them the very best. We continue drinking and chatting for another hour or so. I leave full and happy. Warm with booze and good company, I hail a taxi, having been perceptive enough to leave my Volvo in my driveway.
-XXX-
Security is by no means lax. Yet, the god doesn't have to do much besides wave a few fingers to disarm the initial system to allow his entry. Even this drains him, and he curses his weakness. Power came from within, but a separation from Asgard has not helped him in the least.
He slips inside on light feet. Though it was not chilly, he wears his long woolen coat and scarf, the attire he visited Thor in, the same he'd worn in Germany. It feels…comfortable. Perhaps he is counting too much on the restorative powers of the jewelry, the god acknowledges, but it is a gamble he was willing to take. Living without magic would be akin to living without his hand; chances were to be taken.
Crossing through the gallery was no task, either, but in the darkness, it had lost its life. And gained shadows. He is cautious while weaving through the maze of rooms, shoes beating out a solid rhythm against the wood of the floors. The eyes in the portrait room seem to stalk him without relenting. He felt their gaze even as he left. Colours jump out in the dark, shapes intensified. Even though the gallery is entirely bare of life, he walks silently.
Upon entering the room in which the jewelry lay, he halts, hands clenched. Loki observes the chamber. The glass barriers will be easy enough to remove. The question is how. He approaches the glass. He could, with a gesture, remove that which he sought. But the god thinks better of it. This must look like a human robbery. Something done by an organization, not an Earth-bound god. Earlier he'd considered the specifics of what to steal besides the pendant and ring. He decides then and there to take one of those dreadful "abstract" pieces. With a thought, one canvas vanishes from the wall. It appears in the boiler room, behind some boxes. They'll find it within the month, he's sure.
One of the O'Keeffes had been under consideration, as he'd considered giving it to Tatiana, but he thought better of it. She could get in trouble, if found out. And she likes her job. Best to let her keep it, then.
Before he can forget, the god concentrates on the cameras. Their lenses are shadowed briefly, misty as Loki constructs a scene that will suit mortal eyes. Something different than his sole figure mucking about the place. He makes a note to break a window or two before he leaves as well.
The god removes his scarf, winding it around his hand, sneering as he gazes upon the Norse objects. The Midgardians and their idol-worship. He'd see that they were at it again. Soon.
His fist goes through the glass neatly. Crystal shards rain onto the floor, scattering about the brightly-lit case, glittering faintly against the black velvet. He unwraps his limb, then pluckes the pendant and the ring. The ring slides onto his middle finger, and he snaps the air for a whisper of moisture, weaving it into a thick chain for his new accessory. It sits against his chest. The stone flashes.
Loki feels a new swell of power within him. He stretches each of his fingers. Small sparks fly from the tips. He smiles.
It feels good to be back. A god in his own right once again. In his rightful place in the universe.
And soon, more.
King.
-XXX-
I don't know if it's just this fandom in general, but you people don't like reviewing. Maybe it's just me coming off of Once Upon a Time stuff, with 10 or more a chapter. Or maybe Avenger fans simply are read-and-go types. Either way, I'd love your feedback. I just don't know how this story is doing. Should I update less?
How were Tony and Pepper? We might see some more of them later...