Hello my lovelies! I want to thank those who were kind enough to review last time, I bet a lot of you are just sick to death of my constant scrapping.

Now I just want to clear the air, incase anyone is confused about what this story actually is. It is a continuation on Steel Meets Iron, just forget the chapter where Raven met Loki, and what their friendship lead to and it's pretty much the same. I think that it's more appropriate they meet when Raven's all grown up, and way more fun.

Anyways enough of me flapping, enjoy and please, please, please review! I wanna know what you guys are thinking, and if you more experienced writers see an iceberg coming. Let me know!

Chapter 2

Always on the move.

Raven sighed recalling her father's words. Everyone wanted her to sit down and be a freeloading daughter, be normal, be straightforward. Raven couldn't define normal, or apply to herself. She had tested higher than her father on a I.Q. test and everyone expected this grand mind to solve the world's problems. The next generation of scientific genius. Instead they got an artist. A moody, neurotic artist. The world got a little girl who loved Vincent Van Gogh, Claude Monet, the Beatles and Bach. A little girl who wanted to be a cellist since she could hold onto one, and wanted to play various instruments just to see if she could, who wanted to compose. She may have the power to unlock secrets with her mind but Raven was never interested in excelling, or using her mind for anything that wasn't art, music or literature.

None of the other children found that fun either. She was too quiet, too reserved, too strange. Sure she had some friends, but with age she became more and more bizarre. Not to mention her damn mind kept pushing her further and further away from her classmates. Without meaning to she graduated high school at fifteen, and she lost all her friends. Resentful at all the colleges wanting to take her on, the pander for her last name, Raven demanded to be sent to Ireland. She demanded to be tutored where she could be near Marshall. She was sixteen when she got in, not as impressive as her father who graduated MIT at seventeen.

It broke her father's heart, but she was angry. Wanting to be with the father she had limited contact with for eight years. She wanting to be where she was kept out of, Ireland. She wanted to be where she grew up. Steve was the only one who supported her, silently at least.

"I understand what it's like wanting things the way they used to be," he told her, squeezing her shoulders.

"Do you?" She grumbled in adolescent spite. "No offense Uncle Steve but I really don't think so."

"I do." The serum slowed down his aging, but his eyes were always old and wise. Yet kind, when he spoke to her.

He always spoke in an even tone with her. Out of all her uncles and aunties, Raven held a special spot for Steve in her heart. Ever since she was little, she had taken a shine to him. He never frightened her, although he was tall with bulging muscles. He had a gentle nature, and she taught him many things about the modern world, and some of its history he missed out on although it was mostly pop culture. Raven could easily boss him about, better than Bruce who tried to avoid her childish goads in fear of reacting extremely. They bonded over old movies, and facts of history passed. Trading stories and playing games.

"How?"

"You want things to be the same, you want to be somewhere familiar but, you know nothing will quite be the same way you left it."

She sighed, "I grew up there. I miss it. I'm sick of being told I can't go there."

"I know," he hushed her growing outburst. "I know. You want to be with Marshall, because he's like a father to you."

"He is a father to me."

"Right, he is a father to you," Steve corrected. "But your dad just wants you at home, you're only fifteen pumpkin."

"I'll be living with Marshall. They aren't going to let me in until I'm sixteen anyways. And he hasn't been able to see me until I was ten and a half. Why can't I go in Dublin for a while?"

"Dublin's far away." He tried to reason with her, "And you'll be gone for four years."

"Stop making it sound like I'm going off on my own! I'll be with family, my other family... It's not like I won't write," she grasped his hands, "and I will write you letters if you can't get your computer to work."

Steve smiled at her thoughtfulness, "I know you will. But Raven, your dad is worried, you're just a kid."

"He would let me go if I was going to Julliard," she pointed out. "He just hates Dublin because he can't fly over in under an hour to spy on me."

Steve couldn't argue with that. "You're his only daughter Raven. I'd be worried."

"You always worry Uncle Steve... I'll be fine. Don't you trust me? Doesn't anyone?"

He patted her arm, "It's not you we don't trust... It's other people."

She held her head knowing she was defeated. "So am I supposed to stay home and not do anything?"

"You'll get your turn." He ruffled her hair, like she was seven years old old again.

Raven did get to go to Trinity College in Dublin, four months before her sixteen birthday party. She didn't live on campus, and the principal was happy to make an exception for her age, since she was their youngest student. For four years she lived with Marshall, until she was nineteen when she graduated. During her time at Trinity College, she did participate in some exchange programs, she was under the strict supervision of fellow students. But they were young like her and let her get away with a few things. Since was such a great cellist, she got some chances to earn some money as she studied. And secretly she composed, writing songs under her mother's maiden name. There was some Stark in her to have a good grasp on the business world.

Being in Ireland was the most normalcy she had since she was seven. She lived in a normal house, with in AI and overwhelming machines here and there, she came home to two parents, she had normal chores. For the summer and the months leading up to her orientation, she submerged herself in everything Irish. Marshall took her everywhere, museums, historical sites, to folk singing nights in pubs and festivals. Looking back she wondered why she didn't miss Tony or California. Why the damp air was better than the sunny beach house she had called home for eight years. Why helping mow the lawn, doing her own laundry for the first time and having her very first job made her so happy.

There were boys of course. Her dad didn't know about most of them, Marshall did. He didn't pretend she wasn't interested in sex, nor waited for someone to explain things to her. His wife Emily, a landscaper, gave her plenty of books and spoke candidly about female anatomy like she was drawing up a plan for someone's backyard. Tony was reluctant to admit there might be boys in her life, it didn't suit his idea of her. And Raven wasn't particularly interested in boys, until the right ones came into her life. Boys that didn't think she was weird, or weren't dead hard fans of her father. Boys that liked her, just Raven, not Raven Rocher or Raven Stark. Of course her heart got broken many times. She had been dumped by her first boyfriend because she didn't want to have sex. Then he ditched her at a party because he found a girl who was glad to oblige him. She fell in love for a summer. She dreamily stared at boys who looked through her. She tried to be someone she wasn't. She broke boy's heart. She had been made a fool of.

She had been in love once too. Only once. She never told Tony or Pepper, Steve knew she had been broken up with but that was it. Emily and Marshall knew how much she loved him. He was older than her, not by much, but it felt like miles to him. Her Lionheart. Raven often referred to him, whenever she doubted her feelings about anyone. He became the measuring stick for every man after him. He was more than a boyfriend, he was a friend, a business partner, a confidant and he was the first man to ever seduce her. They still kept in touch, but no one knew that.

They would beg her not to.

But they needed each other, somehow, someway.

Her Lionheart knew she was in Paris. He would sit in on her shows and send her white carnations, no more than six. Sixteen was what he used to send her when they were together. Six was the number they agreed on, since he had no self-control at all. She didn't tell him about Henry, the strange man she shacked up with for three weeks. Though he wouldn't have minded, he was bisexual and encouraged sexual experimentation. Not to mention he was candid about his women, and men. Henry wasn't the first man she had a sex-only relationship, so she knew the unspoken rules of such an arrangement. It was fun, working then going across town for a well earned release.

Henry was handsome, in a deadly way. He had green eyes, so vivid they dared to break the color spectrum. He was pale as alabaster, hairless all over his body, not an millimeter of stubble anywhere. It was rare sight, it seemed like all his hair when on his head. Which was not a waste, he had long, silky black hair, that curled on the edges. Thick and lush, she loved to tug on it. The long hair didn't spoil his natural appeal, if anything it made him more handsome and polished. Less rock star and more CEO Vogue. She missed those locks, but she refused to dwell on it. It was over and she was home in Ireland now.

Although she went to Uni in Dublin, she didn't stay. It was too expensive, and the lure of complete independence called her like a siren of the sea. It took her some months but she decided to move to Cork, it was cheaper and, there was a cultural and music scene. With her best friend from college Brogan, who had a cousin in Cork they moved into a flat together. Raven was twenty and Brogan was twenty-one. They managed to make life functional in their two bedroom flat, but mostly because Brogan had a boyfriend Mark she spent plenty of nights and days by. Raven didn't mind, she had Clover to keep her company if she got lonely.

Clover was her German Shepherd, who she knew since she was nineteen and inherited when she was twenty from her Lionheart. He had to leave Ireland and dared not to leave her to a pound, so he threw her at Raven. Take care of her for me won't you, Alice. His last words when he put the wriggling puppy in her arms. Luckily she and Brogan picked a flat which allowed pets, and the landlady permitted some of the restricted breeds in her buildings, one being German Shepherds. Though she had to wear a muzzle outside their flat at all times, the norm for the "restricted breeds".

Raven and Clover were thick as thieves. She often took her on errands with her since there wasn't much dog parks nearby. Some wouldn't mind her being off leash in the other parks, but a few guards insisted on it, as a precaution. But Clover had to get her exercise somehow. Raven always had a weak spot for animals, especially dogs. She wanted more pets when she realized Tony didn't mind Timber, her English Setter. But after the Mandarin blew up their house (which Raven and Timber, were not in), she decided to keep the request to herself, guarding Timber with her life. He ended up living a full life, dying peacefully in his sleep old and pudgy.

"Oh excuse me," someone bumped into her on the street.

You would think having a restricted breed would keep people from bumping into her. She knew German Shepherds didn't have much a stigma on them but they were the highest ranking breed for the guards.

Raven raised to say it was alright when her mouth went dry. It was him. Henry from Paris. Henry, the tourist she spent three weeks fucking all over his penthouse. Green eyed, black haired too sweet not to touch, Henry. His eyes went to hers, and they widened. He was shocked to see her also.

"It's you," he ushered her aside from the steady flow of people. "Raven."

She wasn't flattered he remembered her name. She was still spinning from the fact he was in Cork. In her city. Less than a hour's commute from her flat.

"What are you doing in Cork?" She studied his dress, casual in a suit. She had never seen him in anything that wasn't digressing.

He had a British accent which gave him away the second they spoke. A strong accent that suited England, or somewhere like that. Not Ireland. Not near her, and her flat.

"I live here," he told her. He then caught her angle. "You live here also?" She nodded. "I had moved here recently," he explained, "but then I had business in Paris."

"Ah." Don't make a scene. Shake his hand and move out. You're a big girl, Raven. Don't be a schoolgirl about it. "Right," she took his hand shaking it. "Well, it was nice seeing you. Enjoy Cork City." With a single jerk on Clover's chain they took their leave.

Seeing him made her heart flutter, lust pulsing through her. He was dishy, and he was by far the best shag she had in years. But she was an adult, not some horny teenager needing to bonk every fit fella she saw. It was fine in Paris, but not in Cork.

"Wait," he caught her arm. "Don't go."

Seeing his long fingers made her mind flash to what they did to her. If anything the memory made her pause, not the polite implore of his voice. "At least have coffee with me."

"Why?" She asked defensive. "What for? No offense."

He laughed curtly. He genuinely searched for a reason. "I was... thinking about you, when you left." She waited for him to continue. "I was hoping to run into you again."

"For more sex?" She deadpanned. It was the only reason he should ever look at her again. They had no other solid base of connections.

That made the smug smile falter for a moment before he slipped it back into place. "No little games for you."

"My uncle always told me not to trust good looking strangers," she said with a smile. Which was true when she told Steve she was dating. He was the only one, who casually stepped in on her secrets, without trying or wanting to. "So what is it?"

"If you don't mind," he confessed candid and proud. "Or do you have someone else in mind?"

"I'm not seeing anyone." She hadn't gone on much dates since her last boyfriend, last year. It was the first man Clover nearly bit, defending her. "So just sex? Like in Paris?"

"I was hoping we can spend more time together, this time." He took a step closer to her. "I'm quite curious about the little imp I was fucking across my dinner table."

She remembered that night. Long fingers wrapped around her thighs, pushing them to her chest fucking her like she was fleshlight deposit with the precision of a lifetime lover. The harsh lips all but tearing hers off. The distant scrapping of the table. The feeling of something about to break, the table or her.

"She's not all that interesting," Raven said, meaning it.

Henry smirked, "Oh I don't think so... So, will you be coming to my apartment tonight?"

He was always direct. In bed and out of it. The unabashed attitude never startled her. Though his intentions and the cosmic convenience of their reunion made her uneasy. But a part of her wanted the unattached ride. Her motto to live, love and die fueling her decision.

She shook her head, he was so forward she could laugh. "Not tonight, it's my birthday and I'll be spending my night with my girls."

"Your birthday?" He remarked. "How old are you, if I'm allowed to ask?"

"I'm twenty-three."

"You're so young," Loki remarked gracing her with an exaggerated sensual stare. "One would think you were older, being so successful and well-traveled."

She didn't swoon as he had hoped. But there was plenty of time for that later.