Author Note: Thank you to all the new followers! I'm glad you guys are enjoying it. Again, I beg you to review. Just pop in and say hello. It's literally the best inspiration.

Also, this chapter contains mildly BDSM-ish smut. There are not actual whips and chains or anything, but there is a bit of spanking. It's really not too bad, but I felt the need to warn you all.

Disclaimer: I am bad at research. The Norse Mythology references are vague, but I'm sorry if I get something wrong, regardless.

Anyway, thank you so much for reading! I hope very much that you enjoy it!

The Stark Foundation had been funding annual art exhibitions for up and coming artists for years now. Once a year an artist was chosen to be featured in whatever Stark-funded art museum was closest to his or her hometown.

It had been Pepper's idea, naturally, and Tony was happy to sit back and let her make his company look good. When she had been promoted to CEO of Stark Industries, she had suggested he be the one to pick the art that would be featured, but changed her mind when he had attempted to fill an entire gallery with Iron Man fan art.

Now days, she left it to a committee.

This year, they had chosen a man out of Chicago, and she had to admit, she loved his work. He painted fantastic landscapes of imaginary places. It was beautiful and Pepper hoped Tony wouldn't object to her buying a few to hang around the tower after the exhibition.

With the applicant having already been informed, a date having been set with the museum, and the finer details being worked out by one of the assistants, Pepper's only worry now would be convincing Tony that coming to the opening would be worth his time.

"What's this?" he asked as he stepped off the elevator, eyeing the paperwork she had placed on the kitchen counter. "You know the rule against doing work in the house."

"This isn't work," she insisted, grabbing one of the folders off the counter. "This is the artist they've picked for the annual art exhibition. We're going to Chicago for New Years now."

Rolling his eyes, Tony took the folder from her.

"John Walker?" he read, raising an eyebrow at her. "Seriously? Just the guy's name makes me yawn. Pepper, you aren't actually trying to make me go to an art exhibition featuring a guy named after whiskey, are you?"

"Tony," Pepper said warningly, ripping the folder out of his hands and flipping to the print outs of some of his work. "Look at this! The guy has talent. He deserves this. And you should be there to congratulate him."

Again Tony took the folder, giving a passive nod, which Pepper knew meant he was at least mildly impressed.

"Do we really have to go all the way to Chicago for this?" he whined. "We could pay for him to come here, couldn't we?"

"We've already made arrangements with the Chicago museum," Pepper explained, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter.

"Fine," he sighed, flipping through the pages in the folder. "You can go."

"I want you to come with me. This is funded by the Stark Foundation, and people expect the face of Stark Industries to be there!"

But Tony had stopped listening. He was staring at a snapshot of the artist, who looked an alarming amount like a certain Norse God he had defeated nearly two years previous. A certain Norse God whose brother had recently returned to Earth, but wouldn't admit why. But this told Tony everything he needed to know about Thor's return.

"Well," he sighed, snapping the folder shut. "It looks like we're going to Chicago."

"Alice!"

John bounded into the shop, seeming to startle the few customers that were milling through the rows of records.

"Sorry," he muttered, slowing his pace and stuffing his hands into his pockets.

He took a few quick steps and crossed to the counter, where Alice was busy typing at the computer. It felt as if his heart was about to beat out of his chest from the sheer amount of excitement he was trying to contain.

"What's up?" she asked, not looking up at him.

"I have fantastic news!" he replied, bouncing on his toes. "You know how I entered that contest that the Stark Foundation was hosting?"

"You mean the one I begged and pleaded you to enter?" she grinned.

"Yes, that one!" he chuckled, rolling his eyes. "Well…I got a call back."

"And?"

She looked up at him now, biting her lip in anticipation of good news.

"They want me to be the feature of the exhibition!" he practically squealed. "I am uncontrollably excited!"

"I can tell," Alice smirked.

Jumping off her seat, she came around the counter and wrapped her arms around him.

"Congratulations, sweetheart," she smiled, placing a quick kiss on his lips. "What are you going to enter?"

"I'm not really sure," he admitted. "Probably the castle pieces. Though, it's very likely I'll just do a few new ones."

"I could come over after work and help you pick."

"You could just come over after work. We could celebrate…"

Waggling his eyebrows suggestively, he kissed her forcefully.

"I'm working!" she teased against his lips, but gave him another quick peck before sitting back on her stool.

"So I'll see you around eight?"

"Most likely."

"Excellent! I have to get back to work, though. I just wanted to tell you the good news."

"I'll see you tonight, sweetheart!"

The bell above the door jingled as he left, offering a wave over his shoulder as he went.

Her computer work now finished, she picked up her Norse Mythology book, opening to the page she had bookmarked. She had all but memorized the stories by this point, but she couldn't help finding them fascinating. However, now that she was familiar with the lore of both Asgard and Loki, she couldn't help thinking the man in the Subway had been seriously delusional. Perhaps she had misheard him, perhaps he had been on some sort of drug; whatever the case, it had rekindled her love for mythology, despite continually perplexing her.

That night, she was still engrossed in her book. Though she attempted to help John pick out the paintings he should feature in his gallery, she kept getting sucked back into the ancient stories every time he so much as turned his back.

"I'm going to take away that blasted book if you don't start paying attention," he grumbled, snatching it out of her hands.

"Don't lose my page!" she gasped, getting up from the couch to follow him.

Laughing, he glanced down at the book, eyes skimming the story she had been reading.

"You're reading about Loki again?" he snorted. "You know, darling, if you really lack reading material, I think I've got some astronomy books around here somewhere."

"I don't need astronomy books!" Alice grumped. "I need you to give me my book back."

"I just can't understand your love of this character," he admitted. "He is always up to no good."

"It's because he's complicated," Alice defended. "He does all these mischievous things with intent for them to just be harmless pranks, and then something goes wrong and he ends up look more like a villain than intended. It's kind of sad, really."

Quirking an eyebrow, John glanced up from the book.

"He's really just a villain, Alice."

"People are complicated, John. Fictional characters are just as complicated."

Shaking his head, he went back to reading the story Alice had been enthralled in.

It was the tale of Loki's run-in with the dwarves after cutting the golden hair of Lady Sif. Thor had been so angry with Loki that he had threatened to break every bone in his body if he didn't replace the woman's golden hair. So Loki enlisted the help of two dwarves and they wove Sif hair from real gold that, when placed on her head, were grow like normal hair. And then they also made a spear and a ship and said that these were the finest gifts they could make. But that wasn't enough for Loki. He bet them his head that they could make better gifts. The dwarves then made a boar with golden bristles, a golden ring, and the hammer Mjolnir. Loki gave these gifts away (which was how Thor came to possess his hammer) and outwitted the dwarves in their attempts to collect his head by telling them they could not take any part of his neck. However, the dwarves were unhappy about this and had his lips sewn shut as recompense so that he could not outwit them again.

"I remember this one," he mused, beginning to leaf through the other pages. "Trudy told me this story when I first moved in with her. I used to trick her into doing all these favors for me… nothing too bad… just buying extra groceries that I wanted without making me pay her back or talking my way out of applying for jobs that she suggested I try. She told me that if I didn't stop using my silver tongue for evil, she was going to get dwarves to sew my lips shut. Funny old lady, isn't she?"

There was an odd, faraway look in his eyes. They seemed greener than usual, though she couldn't come up with an explanation as to why. It made Alice uneasy and gave her this creeping feeling that John was remembering something from his life before the accident.

Lately, she had been struck with that feeling a lot. He swore up and down that he didn't remember anything of his past life, but sometimes, in moments like these, it almost seemed as if he were catching glimpses of what once was. Though she had no idea what those glimpses held, she didn't think she liked it. Afterward he was always slightly angry, and it put her on edge to be around him sometimes.

"Maybe you could do something else with that silver tongue of yours," she suggested, desperately trying to bring him back to reality without putting him off.

Those oddly green eyes snapped up at her and for the briefest of moments they were filled with confusion, as if he didn't completely recognize her.

"I mean, you did say you wanted to celebrate getting into the exhibition," she

winked, trying to ignore how uneasy his gaze was making her.

"I would think that if we were celebrating my victory, you would be the one pleasing me," he replied, his voice low.

He didn't sound like himself when he was like this, his voice crisp and sly, lacking the energetic enthusiasm it usually held. That enthusiasm was replaced by a self-assured arrogance. He spoke like a king.

"That seems awfully selfish," she teased. "Share the love, babe."

Grinning, she stepped close to him and kissed him fiercely. When she pulled away, he blinked a few times, seeming to come back to himself.

"Whoa there, tiger," he chuckled. "We can celebrate after we pick out a couple paintings. If you stop reading and decide to help this will go a bit faster. And then we can…celebrate."

Relieved to hear him sound like himself again, she agreed.

The weeks leading up to the art exhibition, which was being held on New Years Eve, flew by. John was severely disappointed that they had to postpone their trip to New Mexico, but knew it was for the best. Countless hours were spent painting, putting the finishing touches on the project.

He rarely came to Alice's house over the course of those weeks. Most of their time was spent at his apartment as he worked, and Alice either sat and watched him work or read. It was almost boring, truth be told.

However, John was ever the romantic. Every night, after a long day of work for both of them, he would greet Alice at the door, put on some music, and bring her out to the balcony for a glass or two of wine.

One night, Alice arrived particularly late, looking absolutely exhausted. At the door, he greeted her with a kiss, asking how her day was. As he expected, it had not gone well. With Heather in grad school, Alice was the only manager that could work long hours during the week. With the rush of people trying to do last minute shopping before Christmas, her days seemed to become increasingly trying.

"I just can't wait until we close next week," Alice sighed, flopping down on the couch. "With Heather having exams this week, she is fucking useless around the shop. It's not her fault, but I really can't wait until she graduates next Spring."

He considered pointing out that at that point, it was likely that Heather would go find a legitimate career. Obviously, Alice knew this already, but seemed to have herself convinced that Heater's master's degree in Music History would keep her working at the shop.

"How about we go have a drink?" he proposed, knowing she wouldn't argue.

It had been a surprisingly warm winter, especially by Chicago's standards. Of course, they still had to wear jackets on the balcony, but John had put a tall heat lamp beside the bistro table to keep them from getting too cold. In fact, lately they had been sitting out in only sweaters without getting too chilly.

Together they slipped outside, John flicking on the porch light and plugging in the heater. Alice pulled her warm hoodie a bit more tightly around her shoulders and took a seat on one of the tall chairs.

"Care if I smoke?" she asked, not waiting for an answer before lighting one of her cigarettes.

By this point, she knew he didn't mind if she smoked on the balcony. It wasn't like it happened often; in fact, he was in the process of convincing her to quit. However, with the week she had been having, he knew better than to pester her with his disapproval.

Pouring them each a glass of wine, he watched her smoke; enjoying the way the grew-white tendrils snaked from her mouth as she exhaled, staring distantly out to the water. It was obvious that it was calming her, silencing the inner storm of stress she had been battling all day. She was absolutely beautiful to watch.

After toasting to the end of the week coming fast, they each sipped their wine, John turning on some music to give them a bit of background noise. The first song to start playing was one of their shared favorites; "A Song for Milly Michaelson" by Thrice. It was quiet and beautiful and one of the few songs he could convince Alice to dance to without much effort.

Smirking, he got up from his chair and extended his hand.

"May I have this dance, my lady?" he asked.

Rolling her eyes, Alice nodded, setting her still burning cigarette in the ashtray. She took his hand and stood, allowing her body to sink against his as they began to sway together.

As they danced, he inhaled her scent, the mix of her perfume and the fresh cigarette smoke that now tried to overpower it. Sighing, he held her a little closer.

Lately, he had been entertaining an idea that he wasn't entirely sure Alice would approve of. They had been together for nearly eight months now, hardly spending a day apart. He was absolutely in love with her; she was an essential part of his life now. Months ago they had agreed that the thought of being without one another was truly terrifying, but there had been no talk of making their bond a bit more permanent. And, despite fear that she would disagree, he wanted to take the next step and agree to be hers and only hers for the rest of eternity.

"Alice," he whispered, rubbing little circles on her hand with his thumb. "You're never going to leave me are you?"

Quirking an eyebrow, she met his eyes, a smile trying to hide her disbelief that he had even asked that question.

"Of course not," she giggled, shaking her head at the absurdity of the question. "What would ever make you think that I would?"

"Nothing," he insisted. "I've just been thinking."

"About what?"

"The future, our future. I can't see myself without you."

With a sigh of mock exasperation, she rested her head against his shoulder.

"I love you and you know it," she mumbled against his shoulder. "But don't tell me you're started to think about having kids or something."

"Oh, no! Nothing like that. I just….can you picture yourself without me?"

For a moment she considered this, but quickly shook her head no.

"Good," he said approvingly. "And I love you too…more than you can imagine."

"If you're trying to start another one of those stupid 'I love you more' wars I will physically hurt you," she teased.

"Oh, I'd like to see you try," he challenged with a smirk.

"Maybe after this," she shrugged. "And, for the record, I definitely love you more."

Though he thought he knew better, he couldn't help taking the bait. The song ended and their swaying slowed. He stood there for a moment, staring into her eyes before the mischief-maker within took hold and he couldn't help teasing her.

"I don't think so," he chuckled. "I definitely love you more!"

Rolling her eyes, she smacked his shoulder lightly.

"See?" he grinned. "If you loved me like I love you, you wouldn't resort to violence!"

"John, you are such a shit!" she laughed, hitting him again, slightly harder this time.

"Don't start that, you won't like how it ends."

"What are you going to do? Spank me?"

There was a glint in her eyes that spoke volumes of her intentions. With a smirk, he loomed over her, eyes boring down into hers.

"If you continue to be so naughty, I just might have to."

"Be careful, I just might want you to. I might even enjoy it."

The last sentence was a whisper accompanied by a telling wink. Sliding the door open, he motioned for her to step inside. He wanted her badly and knew that if he so much as kissed her on the balcony, they wouldn't make it inside.

"What about the wine?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We'll get it later," he said, voice low.

Seeming to catch on, she stepped inside, watching him as he slid the door shut behind him. By the time the curtain was drawn, she was already slipping out of her clothes.

"Did I tell you to undress?" he inquired, seeing the arousal in her eyes at his words.

"Since when do I listen to you?" she challenged, taking a step forward and beginning to unbutton his shirt.

Taking her wrists in his hands, he shook his head. There was a fire building in his gut, craving her complete submission.

"You don't," he growled, eyes boring into hers intensely. "But we're going to fix that."

Excited, she grinned.

"Do you think you're going to make me?" she giggled.

"By any means necessary."

"Oh, I like where this is going."

Breaking his dominant façade for a moment, he couldn't keep himself from laughing.

"Will you at least pretend to be intimidated, love?" he chuckled. "The game is no fun unless you play along."

"But it's much more fun if you make me," she replied with a grin.

"Have it your way, then."

In one swift movement, he picked her up and carried her to the bedroom, dropping her roughly onto the bed. Grabbing her jeans, he unbuttoned them and all but ripped them off her, right along with her panties.

Surprised, she stared up at him, face flushed with arousal.

"Roll over," he commanded. "On your hands and knees."

Immediately, she obeyed, offering him her pale, round bottom. His hand made contact with a delightfully loud smack, making her gasp. A pink handprint was left behind and he gave the other buttock a matching one, rubbing the tender skin to soothe it afterward.

It amused him that he could already see the wet evidence of her arousal beginning to seep between her legs.

"My, you're wet," he grinned. "Does this really arouse you so much?"

The next slap received a surprised cry and he assumed that was a yes. He gave her a few more, and soon she was panting, little whimpers falling from her lips with each slap. However, much as he enjoyed torturing her, it was driving him crazy. He wanted her, needed to be inside her, and couldn't take much more teasing.

Undoing his pants, he let them drop to the floor.

"Are you ready for me, Alice?"

"Yes. Please. Fuck me."

Her voice was soft and breathy and he entered her slowly, enjoying the sensation of her walls gripping him, taking him in inch by inch. His next thrust was not so gentle and she moaned as he began to increase his pace.

Her hands dug into the sheets as she gasped and moaned in pleasure, muttering almost incoherently about how good it felt. Closing his eyes, he threw his head back and began to take her harder and faster, his climax nearing quicker than anticipated.

Gripping her hips, he did his best to fight it off for as long as possible, despite the tell tale clenching of her orgasm nearing. However, his efforts were futile, and soon they were both climaxing, groaning and spewing "I love you's" as they collapsed onto the bed.

For a moment they lay there, panting and attempting to recover as their muscles relaxed.

"That was fast," Alice laughed, curling up next to him.

"Yeah," he panted. "But it was fucking great."

"You should punish me more often."

Barking a laugh, he kissed her on the forehead.

"Only if you're really naughty," he snickered.

"I'm going to have to be naughty more often."

"Alice," he called from the art room the next morning. "Can you please get me the box of paints out of my closet?"

"I'm making coffee!" she called back.

"You don't have to babysit the coffee pot," he retorted. "Please, darling? It will only take a second."

Rolling her eyes, Alice wandered down the hall to the bedroom. She threw open the closet door, gazing up at the top shelf and the numerous boxes that occupied it.

"Which box is it?" she asked.

"The big plastic one!"

Naturally, the only "big plastic one" was stacked underneath a few other, smaller boxes. Grumbling, she grabbed the whole pile down. Luckily, none of the boxes were too heavy and came down with relative ease. Setting the other boxes down, she made to grab the bigger box of paints.

That was when the label on one of the smaller cardboard boxes caught her eye. "New Mexico" was all it read. Guessing that this box contained the astronomy books he had mentioned he owned, she opened the box.

However, what she found was definitely not books. It was an outfit of some kind, made out of mostly leather and expertly stitched. There appeared to be a pair of boots as well, and a forest green wool cape neatly folded beneath the leather garment. On top of the pile of clothes there was a silver ring with a giant glimmering emerald in the middle. It looked medieval, with its thick band that swirled around in large silver chords, like a giant snake encircling the stone.

"What the fuck?" she muttered, picking up the ring to examine it closer.

It felt as though an electric shock hit her when she picked up the ring, coursing through her like a mad surge of power. Cursing, she dropped the ring back in the box. After a bit of debate, she picked it up again, this time a bit more cautiously.

Footsteps echoed down the hall as John came down to the bedroom.

"It can't be that hard to find the only-" He stopped midsentence when he noticed her kneeling on the floor beside the box.

"Where did you find that?" he asked, sounding tense.

"It was on top of the box of paints," she defended. "What is it?"

"It's the stuff I was found with," he sighed, kneeling beside her. "I was wearing this."

"What were you, some kind of superhero?" she teased.

"Maybe," he shrugged, not completely dismissing the idea.

"It's a cool ring, though," she pointed out, allowing him to take it.

When he picked it up, it seemed to give him the same brief shock it had given her. However, rather than surprising him, he seemed to expect it, embrace it. That odd glowing green color returned to his eyes as he looked over at her.

"I should wear it more often," he decided aloud, slipping it onto his finger. "I don't really know why I ever stopped."

"It's a really pretty stone," Alice agreed.

He blinked, shaking his head and looking at her as if he had forgotten she was there for a moment.

"Would you like something like it?" he inquired.

"Yes, of course!" Alice enthused. "You know emeralds are my favorite."

Suddenly she realized the implications that his question could hold and had to keep herself from asking him about it. He couldn't be suggesting that he was thinking about getting her an engagement ring.

"Why do you ask?" she sighed, looking up at him warily.

"No reason," he shrugged. "But I have to get back to work. I have to have these pieces in by Monday."

And so he retrieved that paints and disappeared back down the hall to the art room, leaving Alice to consider whether or not she actually thought John was crazy enough to marry her.

Before they knew it, New Years Eve was upon them, bringing about the most stressful week John had ever experienced, leading up to his day of triumph.

The Stark Foundation was sending over a limousine to pick he and Alice up at 6:30 sharp, which he found incredibly exciting. By 5, he was already in his suit, complete with a long waistcoat and a black and green scarf that Alice had picked out when they had gone shopping a few days previous.

Of course, Alice took a bit longer in getting around and was just finishing up her make-up when the limo arrived.

"I don't do dress-up well without Heather," Alice defensively said as he took her hand and led her to the elevator.

Normally, Heather got her ready for every social function she went to. However, because her best friend was out of town visiting her parents, Alice was left to her own devices. Honestly, she didn't think she looked too terrible. Her auburn hair was curled, a bit of make-up was done to bring out her eyes, and she had a stunning blue ball gown that hugged her just enough to accentuate her figure without making her look too plump.

"I think you look absolutely stunning, darling," he assured her and received a quick kiss in return.

Together they slipped into the backseat of the limo, Alice feeling as though she were dreaming. It was all very surreal, the formal attire, the limo ride, the fact she was going to an art exhibition that her boyfriend was featured in; none of it felt like her real life.

"Are you excited, darling?" he asked, fidgeting nervously with his overcoat.

"Of course I am," she grinned. "I am so proud of you."

And she was. In the months she had known him, he had grown so much as an artist. It was like watching a flower as it blossomed. Now he was in full bloom and the most elegantly beautiful thing she had ever seen.

"I'm so glad you're here to share this with me," he said honestly, taking her face in his hands and kissing her.

It was deep and passionate and honest, but didn't last long.

"Don't want the driver telling Mr. Stark we were misbehaving," he whispered mischievously. "But tonight…" He ran a hand up her thigh, squeezing it suggestively.

"Tonight we have no choice but to celebrate your success," she smirked. "I'll show just how proud of you I am."

"Oh, don't start talking like that right now, love," he begged, letting out a shaky breath. "You'll get me all worked up right before our grand entrance."

She could see in his eyes that lingering lust and it promised an amazing night lay ahead for them.

Tenderly, he kissed her as the limo came to a halt in front of the museum. The driver got out and came around to open the door. As it opened, Alice could hear the roar of a crowd outside, making her stomach turn a bit.

"Come, darling," he grinned. "This is going to be fun!"

Wrapping her coat around her shoulders, she followed John onto to the walkway, waving feebly at the photographers as they made their way toward the museum steps.