Her dad had always been a terrible dancer. Sure, he was okay if he had a partner to take on the responsibility of actually following the music. When he was on his own, however, he was a hot mess and everyone knew it. Still, as Max watched her old man wiggle around in front of Stark's stove—which must have cost more than their entire kitchen back home—with a spatula in hand, several pans on the go at once, she couldn't have wanted anything more than his dorky dancing. A Meatloaf song blared out of the sound system overhead, coming straight from her dad's favourite Masonville radio station (how there was any reception here was beyond her, but she didn't question it).

She hadn't realized just how broken she was until she saw her dad yesterday. She wasn't ignorant enough to think that she walked away from everything that had happened unscathed, but Max thought she was handling herself better than she was. All her resolve crumbled when she saw her dad in the doorway. The barely-there bonds holding her sanity together, her emotional baggage, her heart, disintegrated in his presence, and she felt like she was six again and he had to carry her off the soccer field because she fell funny on her ankle.

They sat together, alone in the common area of the Avengers Tower, for hours after she broke the news of Nolan's death. Well, she had yet to say death. She hadn't said dead, died, or passed away. Her sobbing apologies and incoherent hyperventilating seemed to get the message across, and for a little while, she watched her dad break too. Head in his hands, he shook and groaned and whimpered and tried to console her simultaneously—because he was her parent and that was his job. But Max worked hard to get her shit together, to stop crying just for a little while so that she could hold him. Stroking his hair, she had told him how brave her big brother was on the day it happened—how his first and only son stood up for her in the face of horror.

He was quiet for some time when she told him about the funeral Loki put on for her in Baxter Tower. His arm around her, her dad listened to the whole story, and when she had glanced up at him, she saw two steady streams of tears trickling down his face. They changed the subject shortly after, neither fully able to deal with their loss properly in the tender moments of a familial reunion. Max went first, regaling him with almost every detail of her time during the invasion (leaving out the copious amounts of sex with Loki, which led to her subsequent pregnancy). She told him about Loki, about what he really was, and still her dad was silent. He listened, eyes hollow and lips pressed together, until she was finished.

When she was done talking, he pressed his face to her hair and held her tightly to him. They sat like that for some time, until Loki arrived with some takeout that the other occupants of the tower had ordered. No one else interrupted. At one point, she heard Stark's voice, but he never made an appearance in the room, which she was glad for. The very idea that she was living with the Avengers, surrounded by superheroes and security officials alike, seemed to make her dad uneasy, and after Loki left with only a few parting words, she pushed hard for details back home.

Her mom was alive, but the Pagurolids had stopped her chemo when they placed both her parents in a camp. The lack of medical care left her weak—her dad described her as a shell of her former self. However, now that her usual clinic was open again, she could resume treatment for the cancer that had crept back into their lives a year ago. Max saw the hope in his eyes when he talked about her mom's first appointment with a doctor last week, but there had been a sinking feeling in her stomach that wouldn't go away whenever they broached the subject.

The school where her parents taught (well, where her dad taught now) had been used as a holding facility, but unlike the ones in Central Park, they weren't churning out new aliens on the hour. Instead, all the people who lived through the initial invasion were housed there at night, then worked at various locations during the day. Her hometown, Eastmont, was much smaller than Masonville, and according to her dad, there was a maximum of twenty aliens in the town total. The only problem was that they were armed, and the few people they did turn into body bags were shipped out to surrounding areas as soon as possible. The town was under militant control until the crop-dusters flew over, and once the alien oligarchy fell, the community started mending its wounds.

The tune was the same with many of the small rural communities nearby, and Max was happy to hear of it. She wasn't happy to hear that her parents were in a continuous panic about her and Nolan's well-being: Manhattan was an alien hub, and the only news they got on TV or radio were updates on alien progress across major cities, hers being one of them. Still, in the grand scheme of things, it could have been worse: her dad worked in a kitchen for the duration of the invasion, while her mom was stuck in a bed most of the time. No news on the rest of the family, but communications were still shoddy across a lot of the country—not in Manhattan, her dad had noted—and it would take time to connect all the pieces.

They talked well into the night, and they talked themselves hoarse. She hadn't wanted to fall asleep, no matter how many times she nodded off, because she worried that she'd wake up in the morning and he'd be gone—that this was all some crazy pregnancy hallucination. They had eventually passed out beneath the blanket, but Max was awoken in the early morning by shooting pains in her abdomen. Careful not to rouse her dad, she had crept down the hall to a bathroom and barricaded herself inside, seated in the darkness as she waited out the pain.

For a while, the worst cramps she had ever experienced tugged at her. When they lessened, she checked for signs of blood, and when there was none, she wandered back to the couch to catch a few more hours of shut-eye. When her dad finally stirred at around eight, Max blinked the sleep from her eyes and watched him putter around the windows, clearly enjoying the view of a beautiful Manhattan morning.

The pain had still been there when they drifted toward the kitchenette area of the common room, and Max gritted her teeth to ignore it now, focusing on the way her dad embarrassed himself to Hot Patootie, singing along under his breath and scatting to the instrumental solos. Even though she wasn't especially hungry, her dad pulled almost every item remotely related to breakfast out of the fridge and started cooking it, insisting she was getting thin.

Too tired and sore to argue, Max simply settled on the squishy-topped bar stool on the other side of the kitchen island, head resting on her arms, and watched him. If she could ignore the expensive equipment on either side of him, it was like they were back home, and he was cooking her breakfast like he always did. Sometimes Nolan helped—Nolan had always been the one volunteering to try his hand at cooking when they were kids.

"Shame they don't have strawberries," her dad said, whirling around and moonwalking across the tile in his socked feet. She giggled. "Could have made my famous strawberry waffles…"

"I think you'll have to make do with the…" She held up a plastic container, leaning across the countertop a little to reach it. "… the organic blueberries."

As she studied the label, she heard him mutter, "Never been a fan of the organic stuff."

"I'm surprised Stark has any food at all in here for us." After all, she'd never seen him eat. She technically hadn't seen him drink either, but the few instances she had seen him up close indicated he did nothing but drink—vodka, if she had her smells right.

"You met him?"

"Tony Stark?"

"Hmm."

She shrugged as she watched him push some sizzling bacon around, the entire pan coated in grease and rumbling strips of crispy meat. "Twice so far. We…"

Unsure of whether she should tell him Stark paid half her rent through her last year of university, Max pressed her lips together and decided to keep that information to herself.

"We don't really have much of a reason to interact."

"S'fair, I suppose." He bent down to rummage through some cupboards, bouncing along to the radio as he went, and when he straightened, he had a platter in hand.

"Dad, that's really too much…" Max sighed as she watched him spoon enough scrambled eggs onto the platter to feed a small army. The smell was making her a little nauseous, and her eyes darted to the kettle near the sink, wondering if a tea might settle things. "Could you put the kettle on, please? I think there's tea somewhere."

There was a soft clicking noise after he filled the black container with fresh water, and he scoffed at her. "Since when have you drank tea?"

"Let me live my life, Dad," she groaned dramatically, rolling onto her side, her top half sprawled across the counter. It felt good to stretch out, and the more she did it, the weaker the pains around her stupid baby bump were. Once she straightened up, however, the sharp poking sensation was back, and she shuffled over to the couch quickly to throw her sweater back on. A little stooped, she found walking made it worse, and returned to her perch.

"You alright there, sweetheart?"

"Just a little achy," she told him, forcing a smile as she tried to make herself comfortable again. "How's the bacon coming? I bet the whole tower can smell it."

He studied her for a moment, his smile dropping somewhat, and then turned back to tend to her request. "It's almost perfectly crispy."

"Yum…" The thought of bacon didn't make her stomach churn—there were small mercies, apparently—in the way that the massive pile of steaming scrambled eggs did, and she knew what she would load her plate up with. He went onto the pancakes next, scooping spoonfuls of thick pancake mix into a hot black pan. He was spoiling her—he was spoiling her enough for two, perhaps forgetting that she would never be able to eat as much as Nolan did.

The smell of bacon wasn't only appealing to Max, however. Minutes rolled by, the radio station transitioning from one smooth song to the next, her dad's dance moves altering slightly with the rhythm. When she heard someone march into the room, she stole a peak over her shoulder, grinning at Thor as he sidled forward, nose in the air.

"It smells delicious in here," he mused, startling her dad into slopping some pancake mix over the side of the pan. The liquid sizzled noisily on the burner. "I could smell it in the elevator…"

"Bacon," she said, gesturing to her dad's cooking station. "This is my dad."

"Yes, Loki mentioned he found some family at the center yesterday." Thor marched around the kitchen island to shake her dad's hand, clapping down hard on his shoulder. He towered over the shorter man, his entire hand practically swallowing her dad's in the process. "It is an honour to meet you. I am Thor, son of Odin."

"Max," her dad said in return, his voice a little uncertain, "son of… Louis."

"He's Loki's brother," Max offered when they broke apart.

"I've seen you on the television once or twice," her dad admitted as Thor settled on a stool next to hers. "You're definitely bigger in person."

A small jolt of discomfort shot through her when she straightened up, and she set a hand on her stomach. She licked her lips and smiled through the pain when her dad set the plate of crispy bacon in front of them, and then laughed when Thor pulled it toward him, eyes hungry.

"That's for sharing," she insisted, inching the plate back toward the middle of the island. Her dad looked between the pair, then toward the door as Jane and Darcy drifted in, then opened another pack and bacon and started adding more strips to the pan. Introductions went round again, and before she knew it, Johnny and Ben had settled down next to her too—suddenly, her dad was cooking for half the tower.

She was surprised he wanted to cook at all, given his job during the invasion, but he seemed perfectly content to pass out plates of food, still jiving a little to the radio. His moves were considerably toned down with a larger audience, but she could still see elements that made her laugh. When he was finally finished, with no more breakfast items left to grill or fry or flip or boil, he settled onto the stool beside her, and she loaded up his plate before Thor and Johnny had the rest of it.

A hand smoothed along her back a few minutes into the meal, and she offered Loki a small smile over his shoulder.

"I was wondering when you'd show up." Her cheeks coloured when he kissed the side of her head in full view of her dad. "Did you sleep in?"

"I wasn't aware there was a breakfast gathering," he mused. "Quite early, I might add."

No one was dressed and ready for the day yet: the women were still in baggy shorts and t-shirts, while Thor had a pair of trackpants on that looked just a smidgen too tight. Even Loki was dressed somewhat casually in a pair of black slacks and a loose black shirt—were those slippers?

"How did you sleep?" His hand was on the back of her neck now, but the question was directed to her dad. "I came to check on both of you early this morning… Fast asleep on the couch."

Her dad smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling, and shrugged. "We lost track of time."

His eyes went to her sharply when she let out a little puff of air, her eyebrows furrowing when her cramps started again. Still, the pain passed quickly, lingering in her lower back more than her abdomen, and she distracted herself by feeding Loki a piece of bacon.

"Pull up a chair," she ordered as she slid off her stool. "I'll make you up a plate."

Jane cleared her throat, and out of the corner of her eye, Max saw the woman tug on Thor's arm. "We can move down one."

The group shifted, giving Loki a chance to sit next to her, and Max rummaged up another plate to fill with every sort of breakfast food possible.

"You missed the show," she said, setting Loki's plate in front of him. "Dad cooked everything."

"Quite a feat to feed these brutes," Loki mused. He grabbed a fork and shot her dad a small smile, but that quickly disappeared when Thor elbowed him and laughed.

"And who do you refer to as a brute, brother?"

"I think that's quite obvious, brother."

She set her hand on his leg, sensing the irritation in his tone, seeing the tension in his shoulders. He was definitely too sensitive to Thor's playful banter, and she made a note to talk to him about it at some point when he was in a good mood. Shaking her head, she grabbed another piece of bacon and nibbled on it. When she caught her dad staring at her, she arched an eyebrow and mouthed, "What?"

He turned away and scooped some scrambled eggs into his mouth, replying with nothing.

"Are you in love with him?"

She exhaled deeply, curled up on her side as he dad sat on the edge of the bed, his hands in his lap.

"I'll take that as a yes," he muttered, still not facing her. With breakfast over, the occupants of the tower dispersed for the day. Loki had nothing to do, but he still gave her some space with her dad, begrudgingly following Thor out of the room. She opted to bring him up to her and Loki's bedroom, worried that she had hogged too much of the tower's common area already with her family reunion.

Plus she wanted to lay down: her lower back was killing her. After throwing on a baggy shirt, one that resembled a brown sac, and a pair of leggings, Max had cast a yearning eye toward the bathroom, itching for a shower. The hot water would do her some good, but she didn't want to waste a single moment with her dad. After all, she knew there would be a conversation to be had after breakfast, after the way she and Loki interacted in front of him.

"Are you upset with me?" she croaked, hands tucked under her head. She nudged his back with her foot, and when he glanced back at her, she noted that he looked incredibly tired: bags under his eyes, cheeks thin and drawn, more wrinkles on his forehead than ever.

"Of course not." He turned back, his hand on her ankle, and sighed. "Max, you can love whoever you'd like. Does he treat you well?"

"Yes."

"Does he make you laugh?"

The corners of her lips quirked upward. "Most of the time."

"Does he love you?"

She hesitated with her response, unsure of how she ought to phrase the situation. In her heart of hearts, she suspected Loki might love her. If he didn't, he was putting an awful lot of effort into someone he only had feelings for. Licking her lips, she started playing with her hair, gaze unfocused.

"I think so."

He looked fleetingly unimpressed with her response. "Hmm."

"We haven't talked about it officially." She paused, nibbling her lower lip, and then added, "Maybe we don't have to."

"All we want is you to be happy, Nannette."

"Dad," she groaned, rolling her eyes and plugging her ears. "Don't say that word…"

Poking her side in the few spots that made her squirm, he chuckled. "Don't be such a child."

"You don't be a child!" She swatted at his hands, rolling out of his reach and giggling. When the commotion settled, another word settled on the tip of her tongue, and for once, she didn't swallow it back. "I'm pregnant."

His expression dropped. "What?"

"Pregnant." Max sat up on her elbows, her hand on her stomach. "It's not… super noticeable, but…"

Her eyes flickered toward the door, ears straining for a specific outside lurker. When she heard nothing, she sat up a little more. The shock was evident on his face, but so too were the tears in his eyes, the small smile on his lips.

"Pregnant?"

"Neither of us thought it could… We didn't think…" There. That was all there was to that. They didn't think. They didn't think of all the possible repercussions of carefree sex, and here she was now, kicking herself.

"How far along?"

"Uhm…" She added the week and a half on since she was first told, and then cleared her throat. "Maybe just about seven weeks, maybe more? They're not a hundred percent accurate."

There was a slight crack in his voice when he spoke again, and Max felt her lower lip wobble. "And how are you feeling?"

"Keep your shit together, Dad," she whimpered, wiping under her sore nose and brushing his tears away.

"Am I not allowed to be happy?" He asked it with a chuckle, shuffling closer to her and wrapping his arms around her. Max was silent during the hug, her breathing unsteady, and when he pulled back, his smile had vanished. "Should I be happy?"

Her hands flew up with her shrug, shaking her head. "I don't know. I don't know how to…"

She stopped. The words felt sour coming out of her lips, like she had to strain to push them along. She knew they were lies. In fact, she knew precisely how she felt, but voicing it aloud for the first time made her want to puke, more so than the scrambled eggs did.

"I don't want it." Her dad's expression held steady as best it could, but she could see the immediate sadness in it—his gut reaction. "Not now. I can't handle a baby right now. Everything's a disaster, and he wants to get off Earth… I know he wants to leave. I can't do it. Dad, I can't do it."

Trailing off in tears, Max surprised herself with her candor. Face buried in her hands, she leaned into her dad's touch, gravitating to his soothing words of comfort. When she looked up, wet blotches stained her shirt, and she noticed he was still teary-eyed too.

"Are you upset with me?"

"Sweetheart," he groaned, moving even closer now so that he could draw her to his chest. "Of course I'm not upset with you." He kissed the top of her head, rubbing her back. "Well, I'm upset that you think I'd be upset."

"I remember when Elisa and Nolan told everyone they were pregnant," she said, her voice thick and nose blocked. "You guys were so happy, and I… I was excited to get the s-same reaction."

"Oh, you'll get it," he told her softly. "Not this time, but you'll get it."

"Yeah?"

"Do you know the bloody parade your mum is going to throw when you tell the family you're pregnant?"

She laughed weakly and nodded, picturing how big a deal her mom would make about Max expecting a kid. There would be balloons on their mailbox for days, and every single person in her mom's social circle would know every intimate detail about the pregnancy.

"D'you want me to tell her?"

Max pursed her lips, contemplating for a moment, and then shook her head. "No."

"Have you talked with him about it?"

She swallowed thickly, and her headshake came a little slower this time. "He doesn't know."

"Max."

"It's easier this way—"

"It's cruel this way," he told her, a fatherly authority creeping back into his tone. He inched back so that they could look at one another. "He deserves to know. It's only fair."

"I know."

"Max." His eyes narrowed a little at her.

"I know," she snapped, wiping under her eyes and huffing. "There's just been so much going on… I don't have the energy to deal with this right now."

"Well, it's not going to wait for you to get your act together," he told her with a nod to her abdomen. "You can't wait around. How are you feeling?"

"Shitty." She could readily admit to that, especially after the morning she'd been having. "It's been really painful today… Like, really bad cramping."

His eyebrows knitted together. "Anything else?"

"Well, the usual violent morning sickness," she started, ticking off each symptom on her fingers. "Sore back, sore boobs, headaches, cravings… I ate four cheeseburgers yesterday in one sitting, and I definitely could have gone for more."

"And what does your doctor think of this?"

"Well, I haven't… talked much of it over with her."

"Why?"

Because she'd been trying to pretend there wasn't a tiny life growing inside her? Because she was still desperate to hide it from Loki? Because she didn't want to acknowledge anything? None of those answers were acceptable, but her silence seemed to scream every single one of them at her dad, and it was then that he seemed annoyed with her.

"Make an appointment for today."

"But I want to be with you—"

"I was going to tell you that I'd be taking the ferry back and driving home this afternoon," he said. Her heart sank at the thought, and she bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from protesting. "I was going to ask you to come with me, but there's a better chance at getting the care you need here."

"But—"

"Your mum needs me at home," he continued. "You have someone here to help you, and I… need time to…"

To grieve. To think about his dead son, the son who had gone back to save his now pregnant daughter. Poor guy. She sidled closer and hugged his midsection, unable to imagine what was bouncing around in his head right now. Max had had time to process Nolan's death. She'd had almost two weeks to think about being pregnant. Her dad had heard all the news in less than twenty-four hours, and he was in better shape than she was, all things considered.

Wincing, Max finally pulled away from him and let him see her pained expression, let him see her rub the small baby bump when it felt like something was stabbing her.

"Get a phone and make an appointment," he ordered briskly. "Now."

"Dad, I won't get in today, so why waste—"

"Now, Max."

Rolling her eyes, she eased herself off the bed, and after finding her doctor's card in her hospital bag, she went on the hunt for the telephone. She thought she'd feel better after telling someone. She thought the weight might lessen, that she'd be more at ease with her situation.

She wasn't. It wasn't easier, she didn't feel better, and she ended up blubbering to her doctor on the phone for two minutes before she was awarded an appointment that afternoon.

"Be sure she keeps her phone with her."

Loki nodded at Max's father, though both men's gazes were set to the windows, watching the world go by from the back of one of Stark's town cars. Both he and Max had been awarded with a cellular telephone and a credit card by a visiting S.H.I.E.L.D. agent just before they left, and they took great pains to keep her father away from the agency representative. Johnny noted that the phones were probably "bugged", which set Max on edge, but he offered to get Reed to take a look at them once they returned from Max's doctor's appointment.

He wasn't even aware that Max needed to see a doctor that day. She'd hadn't been physically ill, but after wasting time in Thor's suite, a book in his hands and the inane chatter of the room's occupants driving him to madness, he found Max distressed as she packed for a trip to her doctor, her father watching on. She informed him what he already knew: she was having a bad reaction to her medication, and she needed to see her doctor sooner rather than later to have it fixed. He was all for that type of appointment, and quickly saw to their vehicle transports to get both father and daughter to different places around the city.

Loki expected her father to stay longer. In fact, Loki had already mentally prepared himself to keep busy while the two of them had some time together. So, he was surprised to learn that after her father dropped her off at the hospital, he would be catching a boat to Brooklyn, and from there he would be driving back to Vermont. It was difficult to gauge Max's reaction to the turn of events, as he had no time alone with her, but he would tread extra cautiously for the rest of the day in an attempt to be sensitive to her feelings.

Their parting moment was an emotional one. Loki watched from the backseat of the car, the regular traffic of vehicles and people thrumming around him. They hugged on the sidewalk, Max and her father, and Loki heard brief snippets of their whispered words, though not enough to make anything of it. He could have stayed with Max at the hospital, but she lit up when he had made the tentative offer to see her father off at the harbour, so he decided to stick with that plan. Besides, he had nowhere else to be today, no meetings scheduled by Osborn. Thor, on the other hand, had an appearance to make with Stark at a charity event that evening.

"This city is still chaos," her father said suddenly. Loki turned his gaze away from the river, a frown on his lips. "Make sure she stays safe."

"Of course."

"She's all we have now."

Loki almost reached out to touch the man, assuming he would take to physical acts of comfort just as Max did, but he stopped himself. Instead, his hands knitted together in his lap.

"I am sorry for the loss of your son. I only met him once, but he was very kind."

"What you did was kind," the man muttered, his voice fading in and out, eyes locked to the window. "Max told me about the funeral you put together for him. Thank you."

He did it for her. He did it all to see her smile again, and he wondered how much of that Max Sr. was aware of.

"Now that she has a phone, be sure to call her," he insisted, though he was sure the command was unnecessary. The car was starting to slow at a drop-off point, but Loki urged the driver to find somewhere to park in the lot ahead. There were hundreds of people around the harbour: waiting for ships to come or ships to go out, they were all trying to get somewhere or to someone. "She smiles brighter when she talks of home."

The driver eased the car into a vacant spot at the end of the lot, where the traffic was lighter and the crowds were fewer. Loki slid out of the backseat smoothly and marched around the back to meet Max's father.

"Would you like to me accompany you to the boat?"

"No," the man said, checking all his pockets briefly. "No, this is enough, thank you."

As Loki studied the much shorter man, he wondered if it might have been better that Max went with him. After all, the city was still in the midst of massive repairs, and in Manhattan, she had Osborn to deal with. Loki could have gone with her. They'd find a small inn to stay at while her family home was fixed up, and there would be peace and quiet. He opened his mouth, half-wanting to make the suggestion, and then stilled when Max Sr. placed a hand on his arm.

"She'll need your support." Loki cocked his head to the side a little, brow knitting. "Give it to her."

"I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise." Of course he would support Max. He would hold her up through anything, just as she would try to do for him. Out of the corner of his eye, Loki noticed a man taking a photograph of the scene, and he turned his back to block the camera's few of Max's father.

"Good." He gestured to Loki's pocket, in which his new cellular phone sat. "Give me your phone."

He did so, and he then watched the man punch in a few numbers.

"Work numbers, home numbers, my brother's number in Burlington," he listed as he handed the device back. "You call if you need to, even if she doesn't think you should."

Nodding, Loki tucked the device back in his pocket. "I will."

They stared at one another for a long moment, until Max Sr. clapped Loki lightly on the cheek, smiling, and departed. Loki watched him stroll across the parking lot, his eyes on the man's bobbing head, until he disappeared into the crowd near the station. There were dozens of small vessels in the harbour, and he couldn't be sure which the man might find himself on. In the distance, he could see repairs starting on the bridges around the area. There were two in the nearby vicinity, and as he scanned the reconstruction, he noticed something peculiar.

There was a man swinging between the remnants of the old bridge's columns. Smirking, Loki instructed the driver to wait for him, then sauntered out of the parking lot and toward the construction zone. He bypassed the warning signs, the wooden paneling, and the men telling him this was a restricted area. In the end, he found himself standing on the shoreline, watching a familiar Spider lift beams and leap between ships loaded with building supplies beneath. When he was sure it was the boy in question, he sent out two clones to distract him, snagging his attention and directing him back to the actual Loki. Then, in a timely manner, a red and blue costume-clad Peter Parker stood before him, gazing at him with those soulless white eyes.

"Hey man!"

He sounded genuinely pleased to run into Loki here—certainly a surprise. They shook hands, ignoring the way men in hardhats watched them, and Peter led him off to a more secluded area by a rectangular trailer.

"Where have you been?" he inquired, more than a little bemused as to where the day had taken him. "We lost you after the invasion."

"Couldn't stay in Manhattan," the Spider admitted, voice slightly muffled by the mask. "I had to find my family when the job was done."

"And did you?"

"My Aunt May is coming in on a ship from Virginia, but Gwen was in Brooklyn." There was a small tremble in the boy's voice, and Loki offered what he hoped was a warm smile.

"Good."

"And Max? How's she doing?"

"How much do you know?"

"I got the rundown from Reed and Sue yesterday, actually," he admitted, stretching his arms and legs out as they chatted, like he was warming up for battle.

"Then you'll know Max was hospitalized."

"Is she better?"

He thought back to her progress over the last two weeks, then nodded. "Slowly better, yes."

"Good."

"I think she would like to see you sometime." His eyes ran up and down the boy's frame. "Costumed or not."

"Yeah…" The Spider rubbed at the back of his neck, seemingly full of energy. "Yeah, I'd like that too. It's been a little crazy over here."

He wished he could see the boy's face. Even here, when they were away from the curious gazes of the construction workers, he wished to see the Spider's eye. "So nothing out of the ordinary then."

They shared a chuckle, and the Spider placed his hands on his hips, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. "Reed told me Norman Osborn is heading up S.H.I.E.L.D. now."

"Yes, I wondered why you weren't at the mandatory meeting the other day."

"There's no way I'm risking any of them knowing who I am," the Spider told him. "My identity is my survival. I'm not like Reed or Johnny or Sue… I can't be like them and be Spiderman."

Loki could understand the desire for anonymity, particularly with the horde of reporters loitering outside his temporary home. Max would probably agree with him.

"And what do you know of Osborn?"

"Slippery businessman, uhm… I was friends with his kid growing up. Don't… Don't put too much trust in him."

He frowned. This was the second person to say that: why was that cretin put in charge of a powerful organization if no one had any trust in him? Loki took a deep breath, looking over Peter's shoulder when there was a clamour on the water. Norman Osborn wasn't his concern—not really, anyway. As long as the man did not meddle in his affairs, Loki saw no reason to care about anything beyond how Max was treated.

"Look, I gotta get back out there," the Spider said, nodding toward the river. "I offered to do a lot of free labour with the bridges… Figured I could do some charity stuff if the Avengers are doing it too."

"How thoughtful of you."

"Tell Max I'll swing by sometime soon," he said as he dashed off. "Tell her to hang tight!"

Loki offered a cool laugh in response, waving the boy off, and then headed back to the town car. On the way there, he blatantly ignored the men and women with hefty cameras calling his name. He did stop, once, to chat with a cluster of little boys holding what appeared to be toy Mjolnirs. For them, he stood for two photographs, both taken by the women minding the group, and then hopped into the town car. Smiling, he instructed the driver to take him back to the hospital. If Max was well enough, he wanted to take her somewhere pleasant for lunch. He suddenly had a desire to dote on her.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

SO! My original plan was to have this out next week. I have family coming to stay with me this weekend, which means nooo writing time, and then I have a couple long shifts at work in the near future. BUT. I shuffled some writing times around and managed to finish today! Hurray!

I opted to go with a tell rather than show approach to Max's time with her dad for the sake of speed. If I wrote out every scene that I mentioned in the opening alone, this would be another 10,000+ word chapter, and that would kill me. I think I got the main ideas across without sacrificing too many scenes. Her dad dancing while cooking breakfast has been one of the original scenes, along with the reunion in the last chapter, that I had in mind when I first planned this. It's always been so cute in my head.

A lot of people have asked if Loki would just ~*~know~*~ if Max was keeping something from him, and while I'd like to sort of play that out in the story, I can give a little explanation now, I suppose. In my mind, at this point Loki trusts Max implicitly because, like he says, he's in love with her. If she tells him something that seems legit, he just nods and goes along with it. Of all the people around him, he probably doesn't think she would lie to him. So. There's a little of that going on.

Based on the reviews, lots of people seem to really "get" that I'm working hard on the pregnancy plot, and that I'm throwing splashes of realism in as best I can. Thank you for the constant support!

So many of you left amazing, heartfelt reviews after my little whinging from the last chapter AN, and that really meant a lot to me. I mean it. Genuine, honest feedback is the best kind, and I love reading your reviews. Hell, I sometimes just scroll through the pages and smile and get all feelsy re-reading all the theories and excitement you guys share with me about this story. It's basically the best, and I love you guys for it, and that's why I stress and work so hard to keep updates steady.

That being said, next week maaaay not have an update. I have two open to close days at work, then my freelance work has been set aside to get this update done, and the weekend (like I said) is a no-go. But we'll see. More feels ahead, I promise. LOVE YOUUUUU ALLLLLL!