Being in a nightclub during the day was a little like being behind the scenes of a theatre production. As Max let the heavy doors to the Elephant's Trunk swing shut behind her, she couldn't help but gawk at her surroundings. Last night, the club had looked pristine and chic. Sure, there were at least a hundred or so drunk people falling all over themselves, but the club itself had seemed tidy. However, in the regular lighting, the place seemed small and dirty, with stains on the floor and some couches. It was such a jarring difference that she actually stopped dead in her tracks, eyebrows knitting together as she surveyed the first floor.

Was this even the same bar? At the far side of the room, there appeared to be two cleaners working hard on something splattered across the dance floor, and when she approached them, they both gave her blank stares.

"My clutch," she said slowly as she tried to mime what the rectangular purse looked like. "I called about it this morning."

Despite drinking a generous amount last night, it seemed Max had paced herself enough not to wind up with a massive headache that morning. The same couldn't be said for Pat, unfortunately. She stumbled into their apartment at eight, grumpy as all hell, and slammed her bedroom door behind her when Max had poked her head into the hall to investigate. It was now almost noon and Pat still hadn't shown her face as Max had finished her cereal in front of the TV—it was going to be a late day for her, but at least Pat didn't have anywhere to be.

Oh. Too soon.

Max's frown deepened as the two cleaners started conversing in something that sounded vaguely Eastern European, and she drew a breath to interject.

"Excuse me?" Luckily for her, a deeply masculine voice saved her the trouble, and she whirled around to find a man in black observing her. Despite the scowl he wore, he was actually quite attractive with his blonde curls—short and well-maintained. Colourful tattoos painted his muscular arms, and Max shuffled under the intensity of his stare. "If you're here for the interview, you're about four hours too early—"

"Oh, no, no, I'm not," she said, stalking across the empty, drink-stained dance floor toward him. "I called this morning about a missing clutch… My name's Max."

She felt frumpy in her loose jean shorts and St. Judith's t-shirt, which she tugged at uncomfortably as he continued to study her. Finally, once she was directly in front of him, he nodded, his scowl breaking.

"Right, we actually talked on the phone." He held out his large hand, which she shook with all the firmness that her dad had always insisted on. "Richard."

"Hi, yes, hi…" She almost rolled her eyes at her rambling, but he seemed not to notice. "You're the… uhm, owner, right?"

"Good memory. One of the owners, yes." Gesturing for her to follow, he started toward the bar. "We keep all the high value lost items locked up in the back office."

She clutched her purse-strap as she followed, still amazed with just how ratty and low-brow this place looked in the daylight.

"I feel like we've met before," he told her as he fished a set of keys out of his pocket and unlocked a door. "Do you come here a lot?"

"It was my first time last night," she admitted. "Actually, you guys sent me some free passes."

His eyes swept up and down her curiously before he gave a nod. "No shit."

Her smile popped up on its own accord, and she tucked some hair behind her ear. "Yes… shit."

Ouch. Ouch.

"Come on in," he said with a chuckle. "Excuse the mess."

"This is nothing," Max offered in an attempt to be polite. The small space was covered in stacks of paper, ripped open envelopes, empty Starbucks drinks, and ancient computer equipment. "My place is in a similar state of disarray."

Nope. Not even close. Her hands settled in her pocket and cheeks flushed when Richard shot her a skeptical look.

"You don't have to be polite," he told her, obviously seeing through her lie. "I alternate with the other two owners… I'm the only one that cleans."

"Well," she started, licking her lips and laughing. "Good job."

"Hey, this is leaps and bounds better than it was before." Richard settled atop a worn office chair and started unlocking a safe under the desk. "Can you describe what you lost?"

"Black clutch with a gold zipper," she told him. "Fake leather… Uh… Has all my ID and money in it."

He pulled out two nearly identical clutches, both inside plastic ziplock bags. "Either of these look familiar?"

"That one," she said immediately, pointing to the one with the frayed wrist strap. "She's seen better days, but that's it."

His eyes narrowed playfully, and after tossing the other lost clutch back in the safe and kicking the thick door shut, he pulled her clutch out and went through the inside.

"Nannette Max Wright…" He held up her driver's license, her horrendous picture on display. "Cute name."

"Thanks," she muttered, her blush worsening when he smirked at her.

"You know, some guy tried to pay me two hundred bucks for this last night."

Her eyes widened and her mouth suddenly felt dry. "What?"

"Yeah…" Max snatched the clutch out of his hand and quickly dug through it. Everything was accounted for—money, phone, and ID. "Obviously I wouldn't give it to him without the person from the pictures being present. Said he was your brother."

She could feel the blood rush to her face and then drain, her lower lip wobbling as a small rage storm brewed within her.

"My brother?"

"He looked nothing like you, for the record," Richard told her. "Everything still there?"

Max stared at him blankly for a moment, still caught up in her anger, until she let out a deep breath and nodded. This wasn't the time or the place to have a mental breakdown about something like this. Whoever it was hadn't gotten her information, and that was all that mattered.

"Seems like it," she said finally. "Where did you guys find it?"

"Top of the toilet in the ladies room, third floor." He crossed his arms and shrugged. "People forget their stuff in the bathroom all the time."

"Still embarrassing," Max muttered, shaking her head. When she looked up at him, she noticed he was watching her with a more intent expression now, one that was more than mild interest. What bothered her more was the way the butterflies in her stomach fluttered at the attention. She cleared her throat and took a step back. "Thanks for letting me come in."

He stood just as she backed toward the door. "My pleasure."

"I bet you get hungover girls in here all the time crying about lost stuff." She was rambling now, more so than before. It would have been easy to just smile and leave, but as he strolled out of the office behind her, she found she wasn't in a real rush.

"We get all sorts in here."

"I can imagine." The cleaners were gone now, the dance floor empty, and it was so quiet on the first floor of the club that it was almost uncomfortable. "So, anyway…"

"Listen, maybe you should come back sometime," Richard started. He pulled out his wallet and rummaged through it for a second, then produced a business card for her. "Maybe come back when I'm working. First and last Saturdays of the month are my days."

"Oh." She took the card and let her arm fall to her side, her clutch's strap wrapped around her other wrist. "Yeah, sure… We had a fun time last night, so why not?"

"Good." Richard walked her all the way to the front door and held it open for her. Stepping outside was like walking face-first into a wall of heat, and Max sagged a little under the weight of it.

"Thanks again—"

"I swear I know you from somewhere," he said as she tried to make her farewell remarks. "I don't know… Maybe you have one of those faces."

"Maybe," she laughed, shrugging. Maybe he'd seen her awful pictures in the tabloids—she wasn't about the mention that. "Nice to meet you, Richard."

"You too."

She swore she saw him wink.

He waited until she was at the curb before waving and shutting the door. Once she was out of his sight, Max let out a small puff of air and studied the business card. He was a tattoo artist too, apparently. Swallowing thickly, she almost put the little beige rectangle in her clutch—almost. Instead, Max folded it and tossed it into the nearby garbage bin. She might regret it one day, but for now, she didn't need her head any more clouded by men than it already was.

By one man. Not men. She wasn't capable of handling multiple men in her life, and she certainly didn't want to.

"Fuck!" She cursed when she spied the bus she needed to catch to get home pull over across the street, and without thinking, she raced into the traffic lanes. Honks and shouts rattled in her ears, but she knew she wasn't the only pedestrian to blatantly cut off cars in Manhattan's downtown core. This city had made her bolder, and she just barely managed to make the bus before it peeled away from the curb.

And the air conditioner was broken. Sweating profusely, Max paid her fare with the coins in her clutch, then found an empty seat behind the driver. By the time she reached the stop in front of her apartment, most of the other seats were full with mid-afternoon travelers, and she was happy to jump off and head for her air-conditioned lobby. The temperature in her apartment, unfortunately, wasn't quite as nice, and she fiddled with the gauge to get the air going.

"Hi."

Max found Pat sprawled out on the couch, a bowl of uneaten cereal on her lap.

"Hi," she said in return, still a little miffed over the way things had ended last night. "How are you feeling?"

She didn't need to ask to know. Face pale, eyes a little red, hair a disaster… It was obviously who was the more hungover of the two.

"Oh, just swell, thanks," Pat groaned, her hand on her forehead and voice a little crackly. "You?"

"Fine." She held up her clutch. "Had to go back for this… Apparently some guy tried to buy it off the owner."

Pat frowned and sat up just enough to look at Max over the back of the couch. "What? Like… buy it for… what purpose?"

"Dunno." She tossed it onto the counter, then settled down on the couch's armrest. "Where did you sleep last night?"

Pat grinned at her and laid back down, jostling her bowl of cereal a little.

"You aren't the only one to spend the night in Avengers Tower now…"

Rather than sighing heavily and rolling her eyes like she wanted to, Max kept her expression neutral. Despite her best intentions, she couldn't stop the little stab of jealousy that shot through her. It wasn't that she was jealous of Pat sleeping with Stark—she assumed that was the case, anyway—but it was that her friend had gone to the Tower without any excess baggage. She'd been in the same building as Loki and hadn't batted an eye, and she didn't seem to notice that it upset Max.

"With Tony Stark?"

At her friend's nod, she slipped down the side of the armrest and onto the couch. Pat pulled her legs back to make room, then stretched them out across Max's lap.

"He's something else, Max."

"He's… not entirely stable," she countered, grunting softly when she went for the remote. Pat laughed as Max cleared her throat. "I mean it. He's a decent guy, but when I was there, he… he didn't seem entirely there, you know?"

"Tony Stark is eccentric." Max flipped through their usual stations, bypassing any that were on commercials. "What a novel idea, Max. Did you come up with that all on your own?"

Her friend squealed when Max pinched the underside of her leg, and then nudged her with her foot.

"Ow!"

"That was for blowing me off last night," she told her. Pat's laughter weakened this time, and she set her bowl aside as she sat up fully.

"Sorry… It's just… It was Tony Stark." Max stopped on a wedding dress show they both liked and tucked the remote in beside her. "I won't do it again."

"Okay."

It wasn't exactly the apology she was looking for, but Max suspected it was the best she'd get given the circumstances. They quickly fell into their usual routine of critiquing wedding dresses as the show carried on, and as the program cut to commercials, a thought struck her.

"Oh!" she said suddenly, shifting toward Pat and smirking. "I have a question for you."

Pat's blonde eyebrow arched. "What?"

"Will you…" She clasped Pat's hands dramatically. "Will you be my date to the superhero wedding of the year?"

The corners of Pat's lips quirked upward, and she seemed to be trying hard not to laugh. "Do you mean—"

"Sue Storm and Reed Richards?" She nodded. "I most certainly do."

"Oh, uhm…"

"I'm kind of in the wedding," Max told her. "Kind of and not really… I'm like a fake bridesmaid."

And she wasn't complaining about it either. She had a gorgeous navy dress to wear to the ceremony, as Sue told her she could wear whatever she wanted, and that meant she didn't need to spend a fortune on a dress she'd never wear again. Plus she was helping a friend out—she couldn't imagine letting her significant other's family have such a heavy influence on her wedding, but Sue seemed adamant about making everyone but herself happy. So, if Max could help in any way, she'd do it. Since she was a part of the wedding, she was allowed to bring a date—or, in her case, a guest.

Loki would have been the obvious choice. She'd always wanted to go to a wedding with a boyfriend. They'd spent the night drinking and dancing and well-wishing. They'd get dressed up and have an amazing time, and she'd wonder if they would ever have a wedding for themselves in the future. It wasn't exactly a dream of hers, but she'd always wanted to give it a try.

At this point, she didn't even know if Loki warranted an invite, and if he did, would he accept? She couldn't bring herself to ask Sue: the woman had enough on her mind.

"Actually, I've… sort of been… invited already."

Her smile faltered and she let go of Pat's hands. "Excuse me?"

"Last night… or, I guess this morning…" Pat's cheeks flushed bright red, and she took a deep breath. "Tony invited me."

She couldn't help but stare, not bothering to hide her distaste for the whole situation.

"What?" Words failed her, and Max almost laughed. "Does he know he asked you?"

Pat's expression tightened, and as the commercials came to an end, she turned her gaze back to the TV. "Obviously."

"Okay, just wanted to check."

There were no dress critiques this time around. Both women sat in a somewhat tense silence until Max asked the question that made Pat's eyes light up again.

"So… Was he any good?"

"Don't let him drink too much," Tiffany said under her breath. Max glanced over the woman's shoulder as Garret strolled down the hall toward her, struggling with his bowtie.

"I thought he quit?"

"He… slips and in out of that pledge," the woman sighed, her hand on her swollen belly. She then forced a smile as Garret's footsteps grew louder. "Just… keep an eye on him."

"On it."

Standing on the front steps to Garret and Tiffany's building, she decided that Sue and Reed couldn't have had a better day for the wedding. It was oddly cool, but perhaps that was just a sign it was officially September. Franklin was due at his new school in just under a week, and the couple had been keen to schedule the wedding before he left. The sun still beat down on her, strong as ever, but the breeze was more tolerable, and she could stand around outdoors without dissolving into a puddle of sweat.

"Tiff," Garret groaned, stepping between her and Max, pouting. "I can't do it."

She rolled her eyes and grinned, and behind her, the car she'd rented to take her and her date to the church idled. After Pat crushed her dreams of bringing her best friend as her date, Max had to expand her search. Tiffany would have been the logical second choice—the woman was a hoot at weddings—but being six, almost seven, months pregnant, she had no interest in dressing up and squishing her feet into heels. Max could sympathize, but that meant she had to turn her attention elsewhere.

"You're going to make me dance tonight, aren't you?"

To his credit, Garret was being an incredibly good sport. After working a hectic schedule to cover their growing expenses, he sacrificed his one free day that week to be her wedding date. She could have gone alone. She could have flown solo easily, but Max wasn't sure how she'd do in Loki's presence for the first time in nearly two months. So, she needed the support, and Garret seemed happy to do it. He knew that she and Loki had left each other on difficult terms, but he didn't know the nitty gritty—and he hadn't pried for it either.

"Oh please," Tiffany scoffed as she finished up his bowtie. "You love to dance."

His cheeks coloured a little as Max laughed, and he gave his wife a quick kiss.

"Sometimes."

"Okay, we're cutting it close," Max interjected. She'd been watching the time creep by since arriving at her friends' apartment, and she was dangerously close to being late. People were probably already being seated. Manhattan had a number of beautiful churches, and Reed chose one of the larger, more dramatic halls to hold the ceremony.

Sue would have done well at the town hall with a judge and a single witness.

"Right, yup, sorry." Garret kissed his rather round wife one last time before hurrying to the car.

"Have fun!" Tiffany waved as Max sidled into the backseat, and before Garret slammed the door shut, she heard the woman add, "And behave."

"I think that one was directed at me," Garret muttered as the car sped away from the sidewalk. Not wanting to admit that she knew more about his problem than she was supposed to, Max shrugged innocently and pulled her compact mirror out of her clutch. Make-up was minimal for the day, and her hair was in a thick braid that wrapped snuggly around her head—little wisps of hair were pulled this way and that so that it didn't look too done up.

"Well…" Max quickly buckled herself in when the driver took a sharp turn. "It's an open bar, so, just… I guess Tiff just doesn't want you to go overboard."

His jaw clenched when she glanced up at him, and she wasn't surprised in the slightest when he changed the subject to something safer.

"How did the interview go?"

Max smiled. "Great, actually… Way better than I expected."

"Hey, there you go!" He nudged her arm gently with his fist. "I told you you'd be fine."

"It's not quite the Met, but it'll do."

Later, in the twilight of her life, she wasn't sure if she'd regret not taking the Met up on their proposed interview. Watching Pat wallow, she just couldn't bring herself to go through with everything. Instead, she found a small museum near Times Square that functioned as both a museum and a gallery, and rather than being an assistant, she was being considered for an actual spot on the curatorial team. Sure, the pay would probably be less, but seeing as she'd done several well-funded S.H.I.E.L.D. gigs over the last two weeks, money felt like an afterthought.

"I still don't think it was right of Pat to guilt you out of that." His opinion had already been expressed—repeatedly, every time they saw one another. It wasn't often, but Garret seemed unimpressed with Pat lately, and he had no problem in letting everyone else know.

Max straightened up when she spied the church down the street, her stomach tightening. "She didn't guilt me out of it."

"It kind of sounds like she did."

"Well, don't tell her that," she warned, shooting him a look as the car started to slow. "Garret… I'm serious."

Hands up innocently, Garret offered her a small smile.

"I'll keep my mouth shut."

"Thanks."

Max was sure she could count on sober-Garret to keep his word, but drunk-Garret was a little less predictable. Once the town car found a spot semi-near the church, which was much grander than Max ever remembered it being, the driver turned back and announced her fare.

"Thirty-eight sixty."

Jaw practically on the floor, Max fumbled over the folded bills in her purse.

"Are you kidding me?" Garret snapped. "We were in the car for ten minutes tops."

"Hey, I don't make the prices, pal."

"Whatever, whatever, it's fine," she muttered, grabbing two twenties and handing them over. "Whatever."

She would have walked if she'd known how much the drive would lighten her wallet. Still, she couldn't take Garret's money once they were outside—she'd forced him to come here, after all.

"Max, stop being stupid."

"Keep your money," she insisted, smoothing her hands over her dress and squinting in the sunlight. "You have a kid on the way."

"I can spare twenty bucks," he told her as he shoved the crisp bill into her hand, unaware of the way her face dropped at the mention of a child. She'd been as supportive as she could be with Tiffany's pregnancy, but sometimes… sometimes it was hard.

Sighing, she stuffed the twenty in her purse and nodded toward the open church doors along with the res to of the small crowd ahead of her.

And not a photographer in sight. It was a miracle—a wedding day miracle.

No one paid either of them much attention as they climbed the steep cement steps, and Max's jaw dropped once more as she surveyed the decorations. Sunflowers as far as the eye could see decorated the entrance area, and when she peered over the heads of the group in front of her, she saw the theme descended deep into the bowels of the ceremony space as well. Yellow everywhere. Yellow satin tablecloth for the guest book. Yellow banners to announce the participants in the wedding. Yellow clumps of fabric on the pews.

"Good grief." Garret surveyed the situation with his hands in his pockets. "A little overkill."

"I don't think this was Sue's… original image," she told him. As of a few days ago, there weren't any decorations or themes in mind—none that Sue had mentioned anyway. "Yikes."

"Is this something I shouldn't comment on either?"

She poked his side sharply when he laughed, and then flinched at the sudden appearance of a short, slim woman with cropped black hair and a headpiece.

"Max?"

Frowning, she tried to put on a serious face as Garret continued to point out splotches of yellow.

"Yeah—"

"You're late," the woman sneered, "and you're not even dressed."

She exchanged bewildered looks with Garret, who then shrugged and grabbed a handful yellow candies from a bowl nearby.

"Excuse me?"

When the woman grabbed her hand and dragged her off, she was almost too stunned to react.

"See you in there!" Garret sounded like he was laughing again, and at the back of her mind, she had to admire him for it. If Max was dragged to a wedding where she knew no one and was promptly ditched at the front door, she'd be annoyed, to say the least.

Shooting Garret a helpless look over her shoulder, she finally wrenched her arm free once she was in a separate, less yellow hallway.

"Hi, I don't even know who you are—"

"Marley," the woman remarked, throwing open a door and gesturing for her to go inside. "Wedding planner."

"Oh." This was new. All of it was. When she scuttled into the room, wincing when the door slammed behind her, she found Sue seated on a couch with a glass of something clear and bubbly in hand. There were discarded clothes scattered around the already cluttered room, and a make-up table overflowing with various brushes, spray bottles, bobby pins, and leaky foundation containers.

"Max, I'm so sorry…"

"First of all, hello," she said, grinning as she approached the bride. Decked out in a cream-coloured fabric, Sue looked stunning—but it wasn't too difficult for Sue Storm to look stunning. A fitted bodice hugged her upper-half, while a flowy, draping bunch of material flared out around her feet. For the first time in the history of their brief friendship, Sue almost look delicate. "You look beautiful."

"They've taken over," Sue told her miserably. She pointed her glass toward the door and sighed. "His mother and his cousins and their family just… They changed everything."

"What?" She suddenly noticed a hideous yellow dress hanging from a closet door, and while all her instincts told her to run, Max held her composure. "How can they—"

"I conceded to a few little things here and there to make everyone happy, and then this happened…"

Downing the rest of her drink, she stood gracefully and fussed over her dress. Her hair looked as though it had been curled earlier in the day, but it had definitely lost its bounce.

"And now it's too late to change anything," she continued. Sighing, she slowly headed toward the horrible yellow dress. Max pursed her lips: was that velvet?

No. No, it was a trick of the lights.

"I know I said you could wear whatever you wanted, and that dress is perfect," Sue said as she held out the yellow nightmare, "but all of Reed's cousins are wearing this dress, and they'd be so insulted if I had one person not in it since I wouldn't make any of them my maid or matron of honour—"

"It's fine," Max insisted, holding her hands up to calm the woman. "It's fine. I'll wear whatever you want me to wear."

"Well, I don't want you to wear this, but—"

"It'll make things easier, so let's just…" Max swallowed thickly as she looked the garment over. "It's fine."

The dress she'd chosen for today was the one she wanted Loki to see her in after their time apart. If he was even at the wedding, she'd wanted him to see her in this beautiful navy dress, one with a slit along the side to show off his favourite features.

"Just give me a second to… get into it."

Once she shed her perfect dress, her self-esteem down a few pegs, Max slipped into the yellow number. While it was a little too big around the hips, it wasn't completely awful. Close to awful, but the yellow did okay with her complexion—and at least it sort of fit, despite this being the first time she'd worn it. In theory, it would have been a snug yellow cocktail dress with little sleeves and a square neckline. The extra fabric around her waist and hips looked awkward, but there was nothing anyone could do about it now.

Sue frowned as she looked her over, a hand under her chin. "I could try pinning it?"

"Don't worry about me," Max said, and she meant. "Seriously, this is your day. I don't really care what I'm wearing… and I've seen bridesmaids in worse outfits."

Sue sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes closed.

"I just want this day to be over with."

"Hey…" Licking her lips, Max managed to find another champagne glass to fill with the same bubbly drink Sue had been drinking when she first walked in, and then tipped the remainder into Sue's glass. "It's going to be great. You'll never forget it."

Rolling her eyes, Sue shook her head and clinked her glass against Max's. "That's for damn sure."

They both finished their respective drinks in a single gulp, and when there was no sign of the militant wedding planner, Max refilled the glasses from a new bottle so they could do it all over again—and again, twice over, before they were called out to their places.

Loki wasn't sure what to expect of Earth weddings. In Asgard, a wedding was a glorious affair with a short ceremony followed by a three day feast. All such affairs were carried out in a great hall of some kind—the weddings held at the palace in his youth were so spectacular that most others paled in comparison. There would be feasting and drinking and singing, and someone was bound to make a fool of themselves. Weddings and the tomfoolery that accompanied them were talked about for years—and if they weren't, then the wedding was a flop and the marriage was probably doomed.

The spiritual center where Reed and Sue held their wedding was… interesting. It was similar to a great hall, but from what Loki gathered, this was only for the ceremony. The reception and feast after would take place at a hotel elsewhere in the city, and the festivities would only last a single evening.

And there was an obscene amount of yellow everywhere. Hands in his pockets and nose wrinkled, he waited for Thor and the others to finish signing some sort of book for the bride and groom. There were a few familiar faces in the foyer of the church, but for the most part, Loki knew no one. He'd arrived with a thick lump in his throat, anticipating his reunion with Max to be immediate. Unfortunately, as Jane and Darcy explained the fine details of Earth weddings, pointing out bits and bobs around the entryway that held some significance, his lady was nowhere to be seen.

He then berated himself for getting his hopes up, for being so excited. Max was undoubtedly going to be here, and he needn't act like some pathetic child while he waited to see her.

"We should get seated," Jane instructed the group once the book had been signed. Loki was the first to take a crack at it, and he wasn't sure what to write. However, after skimming the other messages, it seemed like he was meant to write a meaningful note about the bliss of marriage.

He'd signed his name instead—only his name.

Nodding, he adjusted his tie as he followed the group into the largest section of the building. Wooden pews took up the majority of the space, and Loki spied an altar at the end of the hall.

"Are you with the bride or the groom?"

Loki glanced down at the portly little man in a suit who'd posed the question, and he gestured between the two sides of the hall. The groom's side was almost full already—he knew no one. The bride's side, meanwhile, had guests sparsely seated, and he recognized the Captain and Stark. He nodded toward the emptier of the two spaces.

"The bride."

Thor nodded at the decision. It only seemed fair to add some bodies to Sue's benches.

"This seems very… formal," Thor muttered as they sidled into one of the narrow pews. Loki grabbed a book from the holder on the back of the pew in front of him, then arched an eyebrow. It was a religious text of sorts. "Where is all the ale? The songs? The merriment?"

"It's not the feasting portion of the wedding yet." Loki flipped through the book with mild interest, and then set it back in its holster. He then shot Thor a grin. "I'm sure you will have your debauchery sometime this evening."

"I suppose I would prefer it if I wasn't forced into… this."

The Asgardian tugged at the collar of his pressed white shirt. Jane had dressed him for the occasion, going with a sleek, fitted suit and a narrow black tie. Loki needed no advice on how to blend in at an event like this: he'd worn Midgardian formalwear before.

Loki wiggled his eyebrows at him, his tone laced with mockery. "Oh, but brother, you look so dashing."

"Shut up, Loki."

Smirking, Loki folded his hands and continued to survey the scenery around him. He studied the coloured windows and the stories they told. He eyed the paintings hung at even intervals along the wall, though he was too far to see their intricate details. He also watched the people, the ones he didn't know. Reed's side of the hall was quite noisy—an unexpected twist based on all that Loki knew of the man.

"Loki?"

Hearing his name on another's lips startled him out of his study, and his eyebrows shot up when he found Garret standing at the edge of the pew. The man almost looked hesitant, and his shoulders lowered when Loki smiled.

"Garret," he said as he stood, shaking the man's hand when it was offered to him. "This is a surprise."

"Yeah, Max dragged me here…" Her name made his gut clench, but he held his casual façade nicely. Garret, on the other hand, seemed to cringe. "Uhm…"

"How is your lovely wife?" Loki asked. It was a safe conversation topic, and he knew any man would eagerly talk about his woman when prompted.

"Oh, she's doing great," Garret told him, once more visibly relieved at Loki's steering of their interaction. "Baby's great… We think she's going to be a late-October baby. I'm hoping for Halloween…"

"She?" Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Thor shifting behind him. "It's… you know she's a she?"

Garret practically lit up at the question. "Yeah, we had the sonogram a few weeks ago. It was… incredible."

"I can only imagine."

He wasn't sure how much of his personal experience with potential fatherhood had been told to Garret, but based on the excited way the man prattled on, he assumed Max hadn't said anything.

And for some reason, that hurt.

Taking a deep breath, his smile faltered as the conversation tapered off, and out of nothing more than a courtesy, he motioned to the space next to him at the end of the bench.

"You should join us."

Thor and the others were already shuffling down the bench when Garret held up his hands and shook his head.

"I shouldn't." Garret nodded down to Stark, and it was then that Loki realized the blonde woman sitting with him—sitting on him, more like—was none other than Max's chatty roommate. "I mean, pretty sure Max got me in the divorce, so..."

His eyes widened as soon as the words left his mouth, and in the uncomfortable silence that followed, Garret chuckled weakly.

"Sorry… Uh, bad joke." The man swallowed thickly and took a deep breath. "I'll see you after."

Loki's smile had less warmth as the man hurried down the aisle. He watched the man, this human who he'd grown to like, shake hands with Stark as he settled into the pew. Once more, he was stung, but he wasn't sure why. New arrivals seated themselves slowly, but at least Sue's side filled out more as time passed. All the chatter died down when Reed suddenly appeared at the end of the hall, followed by a man in ceremonial robes and Johnny.

At their appearance, the music changed, and everyone around him turned back: it appeared the wedding had officially begun. Women in yellow dresses and men in black suits strolled down the aisle together, arms linked and stepping in time. Some stopped for family and friends to take pictures. There were only six pairs total, and Loki grinned when he spotted Franklin in the doorway now. With a small pillow held in both hands, the little boy made his way down too, eyebrows knitted in concentration. When he was close, Loki noticed he was counting his steps under his breath, and not once did he looked up to smile at his adoring audience—no matter how many times his name was called.

A quick glance at Reed showed an amused father, his smile tender as he watched his son. The mood changed, however, when Valeria appeared—in Max's arms, her frilly white dress fluffed outward in excess. Resting on her hip, the little girl appeared to be in tears.

Loki didn't care. He couldn't take his eyes off Max.

Clad in the same figure-hugging (almost) yellow dress as the other women participating in the ceremony, she looked so… healthy. Her skin had a vibrancy to it once more, and she was neither sporting a swollen abdomen or bony elbows. She'd filled out a little in their time apart, reminding him more of the woman he first met than the one who'd left him. Her hair was different—he had never seen her wear it like that before, but he liked it. He liked everything about her, in fact. He liked the way her black heels made her long legs stand out. He liked the soft, somewhat anxious smile on her lips. He liked the peace he felt when she was near.

He disliked the pain that stirred in her presence, however. As genuinely happy as he was to see her, there was an ache in his chest that throbbed with each step she took down the carpeted aisle.

Still, he'd missed her. He'd missed her warmth and her touch. He'd missed her humour and her love. He wanted to grab her when she was within an arm's reach, but he refrained. He sat stock still when she was at the row behind him, gently encouraging a sniffling Valeria to drop yellow and orange flower petals on the ground from the basket in her other hand.

Loki wasn't prepared for the moment that their eyes met. It didn't seem like she was actively searching him out: her full concentration had been on the whimpering toddler in her arms. However, Max had looked up briefly, and it was then that she saw him. He didn't smile—he couldn't. Instead, Loki just watched her and the way she blushed. Colour painted her cheeks, her neck, and the exposed area of her chest, and her eyes darted between him and Valeria quickly before she moved on.

He was a fool—forever a fool.

Biting down hard on the inside of his cheeks, Loki faced forward and continued to watch her. He was only interrupted once, and that was when Sue walked down the aisle with an older man. The entire hall stood to welcome her, thus blocking Max from his view. Still, once everyone was settled and the ceremony could start, he could see her clearly again.

To the people around him, the ceremony seemed to drag on for an eternity. There was forced kneeling and singing and call-backs to the man officiating, but Loki barely seemed to notice. He did notice the way Max fiddled with her nails. He noticed her smile and laugh, and he noticed her eyes widen when a few flowers fell out of the bouquet she was holding.

Loki barely paid any attention to Sue and Reed, and the only time he did was when Max whooped at the announcement that they were man and wife. A kiss was shared, and the ceremony was over. He stood with the rest of the hall, clapping and smiling for the married couple as they hurried down the aisle. Max and Johnny followed with Valeria between them.

He wanted her. Their eyes met again when she walked by him, but this time they held one another's gaze for as long as they could. There were words unsaid in that look, and when she finally turned away, Loki felt tired—elated, yes, but also spent. As much as he wanted to touch her, to take her, to hold her again, he hadn't the slightest idea of what to actually say to her.

A hand clapped down on his shoulder, and he shot his grinning idiot of a brother a glare.

"That went well!"

Loki's eyes narrowed as he shrugged the hand off, and when he tried to locate Max again in the growing crowd, he realized she was gone.

"She looks very nice—"

"Don't speak to me about her," Loki snapped.

He then stalked out into the aisle and nudged his way through the cluster of giddy wedding-goers. His quest to find her amidst the herd failed miserably, and the longer she was parted from him, the more the negatively crept back to the forefront of his mind. He thought over what they'd been through, what she'd done—what he hadn't done.

When Thor found him, his mood had soured considerably, and it took all the oaf's coaxing to get him moving. After all, an entire evening awaited him—an entire evening of her—and they both knew he'd forever regret it if he left now.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Just a final thought on the "ordinariness" of some of the more recent chapters. I've had people compare it to The Sky is Falling, and I just… Most of the last story was riddled with ordinary acts done by Max and Loki. I understand that there was an exciting subplot with the other Avengers, but I spent a lot of time on character development, and I was under the impression that's what I was doing here. Each chapter, theoretically, is supposed to add to different characters. I don't want to come across as defensive or accusatory or upset at the feedback, because I'm not. I guess I just want to respond here rather than through private messages because there might be other people thinking the same thing.

Anyway. Onward and outward. I was kind of distracted writing this chapter, and I'm not sure why. We just took in two foster kittens that live in my workspace now, so that might have something to do with it-they are both cute and distracting, and it's hard to concentrate sometimes. I might be a little burnt out from this story too. Not a lot, but a little. I mean, I started it almost a year ago, and it's been non-stop since then. Not that I want to take a break either, but… I dunno. This chapter was weird for me.

I did have a fun time writing a non-pervy guy hitting on Max. I think that even those in relationships have those moments where some flirting will fluster you, and I had a fun time writing that.

There's two more chapters for this wedding, and it was another sort of… big event in the story that I had plotted out. Very excited to have Loki and Max back in the same room. Someone commented that they were like little high schoolers, and I agree with that. Max has grown a lot since we first met her, but she's still an immature character at heart. Loki, meanwhile, is a total weirdo when it comes to this stuff because of all his emotional angst, so I don't think anyone is surprised.

I plotted out some more intricate details for the sequel to this story during the past week. So. Very. Excited. It's going to be a wild ride.

Hurray to everyone who has a birthday on August 20th (and let me know about it)! You can enjoy my free book (which is more of an introductory novella than anything) as a birthday present!

Alright m'dears. Thanks to the 6 or so of you who reviewed with the last chapter… Appreciate it! Hello to all you silent lurkers… I know you're there. I see the stats on my chapters. MUCH LOVE TO EVERYONE, AND I'LL SEE YOU NEXT WEEK!