So the first time I tried uploading this gave me some problems. Hopefully everything is sorted...

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

Max couldn't have been gone for more than ten minutes, and in that ten minutes, Pat had somehow found her way back into Tony Stark's arms. With Max's clutch in tow. Her eyes narrowed when she spied the couple groping one another by the bar, and she squared her shoulders with a huff before stalking over. Loki, meanwhile, lingered by the doorway, waiting in silence. She glanced back once, just to make sure he was still there, and then turned her attention to her roommate.

"Hi," she snapped, startling Pat out of Stark's embrace. Her friend blushed and tucked some blonde hair behind her ear, and Tony merely took a swig of his drink. "I'm leaving now."

"Really?" Pat barely reacted when Max pulled her clutch off the woman's wrist. She slipped the fake-leather armband over her hand. "So early?"

"It's almost midnight," Max said, not wanting to bring Loki into the conversation. "Can you make sure Garret gets home? It seemed like he was having a good time."

And there were a number of things she wanted to talk to Loki about without Garret being there. Besides, the guy had made some friends tonight, and she didn't want to cut his evening short just because she was ready to head out. Pat chuckled at the thought and pointed to the dance floor.

"Yeah, he's having a great time…"

Eyebrows furrowed, Max searched her friend out on the dance floor, and then groaned when she saw him. Maybe she'd been too close to him all night, but she hadn't noticed his erratic dancing and his exaggerated expressions until now—now that she'd had a moment away.

"Is he drunk?" She didn't need to pose the question, but it slipped out before she could stop it. Pat giggled, her arm sliding around Stark's neck.

"He's plastered, Max."

"But…" She sighed heavily. Tiffany was going to kill both of them. "He hasn't been drinking…"

"He so has," Pat countered. "I could smell it in his drinks."

She licked her lips and glanced back at Loki. His expression remained grim as he surveyed the room, and she didn't want to make him wait longer than necessary.

"Okay, well, can you take him home?" She shot Pat a pleading look. "Please?"

"We… uh… We're actually not going home right away," Pat remarked, grinning back at Stark. He returned the expression half-heartedly, but Max noticed his hand lingering on her lower back… and wandering lower the longer the conversation went on. She wanted to smack it away.

"Pat, are you serious?"

"I didn't know I'd have to take him home," her roommate said, though Max could tell she knew she was doing something wrong. "We made plans. I'm sorry."

"Fine, whatever," she huffed. "See you tomorrow then."

"Max…"

She stalked straight for Garret, teeth gritted in frustration, and grabbed him by his sleeve once she was close enough.

"We're going home," she told him. It was like being with Loki had sobered her up completely—brought her back to the real world, even. Garret's breath reeked of alcohol, and she wondered how many drinks he'd had on her watch. He pouted at the idea of leaving, but she ignored him as she made a beeline for Loki. There were people she ought to say goodbye to, but they were people she'd actually talk to again sometime in the near future. She could apologize for her abrupt departure then.

"What's this?" Loki asked once they were back in the hall, Garret stumbling between them. Max rolled her eyes a little, keeping a hand on her friend to guide him.

"He's drunk," she said flatly. "He's drunk when he said he wouldn't drink, so we need to take him home."

Swallowing thickly, she shot Loki a look in the silence that followed, worried he'd walk away from the drama. After all, he wasn't required to help her look after her friends too. He wasn't required to do anything at this point, but she pushed her concerns aside when he set a hand on Garret's shoulder to keep him steady as they descended the staircase.

"I'm not drunk," her friend protested, tripping a little over the doorstop. "I didn' even drink."

"You're drunk," she snapped, throwing her arm up to hail the cab casually rolling down the little side street they'd exited onto. "Don't argue with me."

There was a slight pause, punctuated by the taxi's wheels crunching over some street debris, until Garret finally sighed.

"Okay."

When she glanced back at him, she could see the disappointment in his eyes, and her expression softened. He'd probably be reamed out by his very pregnant wife once he got home, so it wasn't really her place to be angry with him. But she couldn't help herself.

Yanking open the backseat door, Max sidled across the soft bench and gave the driver Garret's address. Soon enough, Garret and Loki were squished into the rear of the car too, all of their knees bent up sharply and touching. Once the driver pulled away from the curb, Garret leaned forward to heckle him about the radio station.

The drive to Garret's building wasn't overly long, but Max felt the weight of each second. Loki was so close to her, and yet neither reached out for the other. It would have been tough with Garret between them, but she still felt the need to interact somehow. Talking was out of the question. The only things they could talk about were serious issues, and that wasn't a conversation she wanted Garret or a taxi driver to be privy to. So she wanted to touch him. She wanted to kiss him, hold him. Need pumped through her veins, adrenaline flooded her senses. It was too warm in the cab, and yet she had broken out in a cold sweat.

When she glanced at him, looking passed Garret's intoxicated rambling and arm-flailing, Loki gave her a small smile. The gesture both set her at ease and encouraged her racing heart, and she busied herself with her phone. A quick warning text to Tiff seemed necessary, but as the cab finally pulled up to the building, Max cringed when she spied Tiffany in a housecoat on the front steps. Arms crossed and hair up in a sloppy bun, she looked just as unimpressed with Garret as Max felt.

Almost.

"Keep the meter running," Max muttered as she pushed open the door and helped Garret out. As she kept him steady over the curb, she watched Tiffany's expression harden.

"Did you have fun?" she asked as they approached, and Max could actually feel Garret grimace.

"We did," she managed. Once Garret was near the door, he shrugged her off and sauntered inside, shying away from Tiffany's glare. With him out of sight, Max sighed, suddenly exhausted.

"I didn't even realize he was drinking until like… fifteen minutes ago," she admitted. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your responsibility to police him," the woman insisted with a slight shake of her head. "Thanks for bringing him home."

She nodded, feeling slightly guilty that it was her who had put Garret in this type of situation in the first place. After all, she'd brought him to a wedding with an open bar and boozy guests. Still, she wasn't going to have that discussion with Tiff now. With Loki waiting in the cab, Max's entire body was itching to dive back in and get out of there. She made a graceful exit, moving back toward the cab without looking like she was trying to escape. Tiffany didn't hold her up either: the woman looked like she was ready to fall asleep on the spot.

The gap between her and Loki remained, however, when she returned to the car's backseats. With a space in the middle of the bench, Max directed the driver to her apartment nearby, and spent the duration of the ride sorting out her money situation. The guy's tip would be a little less than she'd liked, and as she handed it over, she cursed the DJ for taking her bet winning's for a song. Luckily the driver said nothing, but the screech of his tires as he raced away from her building said enough.

It was after midnight now, and her neighbourhood was quiet. Well, quiet for Manhattan, anyway. With a few people scattered along the thickset sidewalk and the dull roar of busier sections of the city behind her, Max's weariness really dug its hooks into her. One look at Loki, however, was enough to wake her up. He was studying her in the darkness, a nearby streetlamp casting odd shadows across both of their faces.

Without a word exchanged between them, Max took his hand in hers and lightly pulled him toward the building. Unlike her episode with Thor, she had her keys with her, and there was no inebriated harassing of her neighbours to let her inside. They took the stairs, her finicky elevator out of commission, and once they were inside her apartment, Max let out a deep breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. He was here—here with her again.

Shutting the door behind them, she locked it and slipped out of her shoes, kicking them in the general direction of the shoe rack. Max then tossed her keys and clutch on the coffee table, overwhelmed by Loki's presence. He seemed to fill the entirety of the apartment, despite hovering by the front door in silence, and she was acutely aware of the way his eyes followed her. Stretching upward, she sighed softly and turned toward the hallway, eager to get out of her awful bridesmaid's uniform.

His footfalls followed her toward her bedroom, each one making her ears twitch, straining to listen. Pausing with her hand on her doorknob, she turned back and drew a breath, once more feeling to need to say something. And once more Loki captured her lips with his, swallowing whatever unspoken words were desperate to come out. His large hand cupped her face, while the other spread across her lower back and drew her closer.

She wouldn't cry again. No matter how happy she was to stumble back into her room with him, no matter how her heart soared in his presence, no matter the clench of desire in her abdomen, she wouldn't cry. She'd done enough of that with him—over him—to last a lifetime.

Her nimble fingers went for his tie first, loosening it and dragging it over his head. They both chuckled a little when it stuck on his nose, and she tossed it into the disaster zone her room had become over the last week. Clothes everywhere. Stacks of resumes scattered across her desk. Recently developed photographs pinned to her wall in an unfinished collage of memories.

His jacket came next, tumbling from his shoulders and pooling around his feet. Her skin prickled as he worked the zipper at the back of her dress, and she slid her arms out of the slightly scratchy fabric as he peeled her dress down. It gathered at her waist—a poor fit in that it was loose around her thighs, but bunched around her midsection.

Max didn't care. Not now. Not with him. She'd wanted to wear a colour he liked on her, one that would catch his eye, but as Loki walked her back toward her unmade bed, its pillows scattered and blankets gathered at the end, she knew she didn't need a tactic like that. Loki would have looked at her in a paper bag, and she knew that because she would have done the same.

They collapsed together, her back pressed into the mattress, and for a moment she felt suffocated. Loki worked his way down to her neck, kissing and nipping and sucking harder than before, and Max arched her back as she tried to shuffle up the bed. Pressure. She felt it under his fingertips, under his lips, and she winced when his knee pushed between hers roughly.

"Careful," she whispered, her hands resting on his shoulders. "Not so… Ow!"

She couldn't be certain if his teeth broke her skin, but it definitely felt like it. His hands continued to wander at a bruising pace, holding her, pinning her, and she said his name in a panic, the word strangled in her throat. When he continued to ignore her, she finally flailed out, pushing at him and kneeing him as hard as she could.

"Stop!" She crawled out from under him, her breath uneven, her chest heaving. A tremor ran through Loki's lips as he stayed there, frozen and on all fours, his gaze unrelenting. He'd always been so careful with her before, so cautious, and for a brief moment—nothing more than a flicker in time—Max was scared of him.

Touching her hair, she found he'd pulled out chunks of her carefully crafted, heavily hairsprayed braid, and they flopped around her head as she moved. Settling back on her elbows, she bit her lower lip for a moment, frowning, and then finally found her words.

"If you're here to hurt me, or… whatever," she started, pleased that she sounded purposeful now, "then you can leave."

His movements read in slow-motion to her. For a moment he simply watched her, his eyebrows furrowing as he frowned, and then he slid off the bed and fixed up his shirt. As he stalked toward the door, she felt the familiar sting of tears in her eyes, and Max batted them away pre-emptively. Luckily for her, there would be no drama for the time being. Rather than walking out the door, Loki shut it, and Max went for her bedside lamp. He then lingered there for a moment before he turned around and leaned against the wood, its chipped paint hidden behind his tall frame.

Letting out a shaky breath, Max shuffled back on her bed and fixed her dress. Sure, she wanted it off, but for now she'd make due, sliding the sleeves back over her shoulders. The zipper stayed open, allowing her to feel her cool headboard as she settled against it.

"I'm sorry," he croaked, head tilted back as he observed her. Max shook her head. She wasn't sure what had come over him, but it felt uncharacteristic enough for her to let it go.

"It's fine."

It wasn't, but she couldn't think of anything else to say. Fiddling with her fingers, she waited for him to say something—anything at all. In their time together, she found that despite both of their hard-headedness, she was the one to make the first move. Not this time. This time she sat in the silence for as long as it took, until Loki finally crossed the distance between them and climbed back on the bed. She moved over, pleased that her roomy double offered enough space for both of them to sit comfortably, and then grabbed a pillow to cuddle to her chest.

She tensed when he leaned his head on her, shuffling down so that he could place it on her shoulder. Fearing that if she moved he'd stop, Max steeled herself and found herself wanting to apologize for how bony her shoulder was. However, before she could get it out, before she could attempt to make a joke, he spoke first.

"Is there something about me that makes people want to keep secrets from me?"

His tone made her lower lip wobble, its anguish so very apparent that it was a miracle his eyes weren't watering when she glanced at him. Turning her head slightly so that she could see him, Max tightened her grip on the pillow.

"What do you mean?"

"I've had secrets kept from me all my life," he whispered, "and now… you… chose to hide our… Do I do something that encourages this secrecy?"

Damn it. Two tears rolled down her cheeks, and she quickly wiped them away on her pillowcase.

"No." She cleared her throat, forcing her voice to stay even. "No."

"Then why did you—"

"It wasn't about you," she told him, brushing her lips against his forehead as she spoke. His hands were limp in his lap, palms up and open. "It wasn't about you at all… It was about me." She took a deep breath. This was the conversation she'd prepped herself for, the one she'd had hundreds of times over in her head. "It was about me, and it should have been about us… and I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for how everything happened. I shouldn't have just… expected you to jump on board with my decision without taking any time to process it."

His hands clenched now, and she moved away so that he could sit up.

"I was scared." Thinking about all of it, every last detail, always made her chest heavy. The weight of it all had lifted the day she went in for the termination, but there were times when it settled right back on her, usually unexpectedly, and always for longer than she wanted. "I was in pain all the time and everything was changing… I was changing, and I just… I couldn't process how I felt, and I didn't want to… to involve you when I didn't have a clear head. And I feel awful for that."

"I wish you'd told me." Loki looked at her. "I could have helped you."

"I know." She wiped her nose with the pillowcase, clutching the squishy rectangle to her. "I wanted to help myself, but I… wasn't myself. Nolan was dead and everything was a mess, and I wish I had told you at the hospital when I found out."

Every time she had rehearsed this speech, she'd always been so clear and precise and focused. In her head, she'd get her word out and articulate every point she wanted to make, and then she'd let him respond. Here, she was crying when she swore she wouldn't, and she couldn't help the sharp, high tone her voice took when she spoke again.

"And I wish you had come with me on the day." Her face screwed and her hand flew up to cover her mouth. Bowing her head for a moment to collect herself, she took a few deep breaths before sitting back up. "I know it's not f-fair for me to say that, but I wish you'd have been there, not Sue. I wish… It was awful without you…"

She hiccupped as he wrapped his arm around her and dragged her close, her whimpers muffled by his chest. Pushing the pillow away, Max wrapped one arm around him while the other squished awkwardly between them. They were both quiet as her crying died down. When she finally stopped, Max shuffled upward, her forehead in the crook of his neck and shoulder, and let her hand rest on his chest. She watched it rise and fall with each steady breath he took.

"Do you regret it?" The vibrations of his voice rumbled through his chest, making her hand tingle. "In the end, do you regret your decision?"

Each blink made her eyes feel thick and heavy, swollen after crying. Her response came to mind quickly, but she waited a few beats before saying it. Again, she feared he'd get up and leave. It would be his right—she couldn't make him stay if he was unhappy with her answer.

"No." When she peered up at him, she noticed his jaw clench. "I want kids, but I wasn't ready. I wasn't stable or settled or…" She opened and closed her mouth a few times, the words that came next just as much a surprise to her as they would have been to him. "I regret telling you that I… didn't want to have kids with you."

His grip around her tightened, and she clutched the front of his shirt.

"We weren't in a place to have a kid," she said, her voice thick but clear. "We weren't then and we aren't now. I know it's hard to hear… It's hard to say, but…"

"I know." His voice mimicked hers, laced with emotion, but he stayed where he was. "That's… a valid point."

She nodded, breathing him in as she took a few more calming breaths. If she had been tired when they arrived at the apartment, she was absolutely shattered now. With her eyes threatening to close the longer they sat together, holding one another, she had to really force herself to stay alert.

"I love you," she said at last. "Don't think anything I did was to hurt you, even though I know it did."

"I think that applies… to most of my actions too," he remarked slowly. "Or my inaction, I suppose."

She nodded. It wasn't all about her. He had responsibility to take too for their breakdown, but this was enough—for now.

After wiping the dampness away from under her eyes, Max snuggled closer—as close as she could—and smiled weakly. His cool skin was good for fending off the usual headaches that surfaced when she cried, and before she knew it, he was stroking her back. Trailing his fingers up and down where the dress's zipper left her exposed, Loki pressed his lips to the side of her head, and there he stayed for some time.

It was only when she actually dozed off and woke back up that Max realized it was time to call it a night. Untangling herself from his grasp, she rubbed her face and glanced at the clock. It was after one already.

"Are you going to stay?" He nodded when she met his gaze, and Max finally felt she could hobble off the bed without worrying about him leaving. "Okay. I'm going to get ready for bed then."

Another nod. The sense of ease and comfort they once had wasn't quite there anymore, but this was a start. She toddled off to the bathroom for her nightly routine, brushing her teeth and washing her face, and then went about the unfortunate task of getting her hair out of its super-braid. When she eventually succeeded, her hair was a poofy disaster, and she vowed to deal with it in the morning. After wrapping the sticky, thick, bushy locks in a hair elastic, Max went through the apartment to make sure everything was locked.

Back in her room, she found Loki standing at her dresser with a picture in his hand. He held it up to her as she approached, and she managed a genuine smile.

"Weren't we cute?" she asked, taking it from his hands to have another look—even though she'd stared at it hundreds of times before. It was the photograph Tiffany had taken of them a few years ago, and the very same one that Peter had found on their excursion into the city. Max smiling. Loki kissing her cheek, wrapped around her. Hands intertwined. Both of them hunched over, unaware that anyone was watching them.

"Why would you keep this?"

Her eyebrows shot up. "Why wouldn't I?"

She then handed the picture back to him and rummaged around her floor to find something comfortable to sleep in. Once she'd procured one of her many baggy t-shirts, she could finally get out of that damn dress. She also realized, as she kicked the yellow nightmare toward her desk, that she'd left her actual dress at the church.

Sighing, she decided that was a problem for another day. She rubbed lingering bits of make-up out of her eyes as she stumbled toward her bed, eager for sleep and yet unable to do it with Loki rooting through her things. He spent some time examining her photos after she crawled under the covers, and by the time she felt the dip in the bed, she was practically asleep.

"Max?"

She flinched, roused by his voice and worried that she'd slept the night away without him. It was easy to relax again, however, when he pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her.

Easy to relax, but difficult to get comfortable.

"Yeah?"

He took so long to reply that she thought she had actually fallen asleep again. When he did, he had nothing important to say, and Max struggled to stay with him.

"I…" He sighed. "Sleep well."

"You too," she mumbled. She then pulled herself out of his grip and settled by his side instead, curled against his bare chest.

And happy at last.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Guysssss you don't know how much I needed this. Like I said in my last update, I like Loki and Max together more than I like them arguing, so this chapter was like a much needed infusion of muse-happiness into my brain. I know it wasn't a particularly long talk, but sometimes in these situations, you say what you need to say and then you're done. I don't think this is the last of the deep chats these two will have, but YEAY, they're actually having a mature conversation about it. Such growth. Much character change. Wow.

On another fucking exciting note: I PUBLISHED MY BOOK TODAY! It's only available on Smashwords at the moment, and will be free until September 10th, so grab a free copy while you can! After that, it will be on Amazon and Smashwords, and I'm toying between the 0.99 or 1.99 option for pricing.

Allll e-reader formats are available for downloading, just ps, or you can grab it as a PDF if you don't have an e-reader. Easy-breezy beautiful.

If you want a copy of my novella (it's pretty short considering this story is over 300,000 words… yikes), there are links everywhere on my profile and tumblr and twitter and everything.

If you leave a review and want to participate in my September promo, keep an eye out for info! Basically you'll get a personalized one-shot written when you send me the link to your review. It can be about anything in the fandoms that I write for, an AU scene from my stories, a scene told from a different POV—anything. I think it'll be lots of fun, and I'm amped to start.

Anyway. Back to Ghost Town. I'm going to try to go back to my weekly updates… Work is still pretty slow, and even though I'm writing my novella's sequel, there isn't much left to go on that either. So, unless something major comes up, I'll see you guys for an update next week!

PS: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ALL MY FOLLOWERS HAVING BIRTHDAYS TODAY! Enjoy an update and a free book as my present to you.