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Pepper Potts is in the master bedroom suite in the Stark Tower penthouse. She is sipping a glass of red wine and packing yet another suitcase with cool, calm efficiency.
Her absolute rage at finding Tony in bed with not one but two women has faded into a sort of dull, aching grief.
“Stark tried to kill me today,” a voice says.
She doesn’t even turn around.
“And that’s different from every other day because…?” She closes the suitcase, picks up her wineglass and turns to face him.
Tonight the God of Mischief is dressed in black pants tucked into black suede boots, and a silky-looking emerald green shirt. There is gold on his wrists and at his throat.
“He was utterly enraged,” Loki tells her.
He doesn’t seem particularly perturbed; on the contrary, Pepper would swear that he looks quite pleased with himself.
“He means to do for me. And make no mistake, if he ever finds a way to overcome my magic, that is exactly what will happen.”
“Well, I’d imagine you’re pretty high up on his Shit List right now.”
He smiles slightly at this. “Yes, I suppose I am.”
In a blink, he closes the distance between them.
“I wonder,” he says, stealing the wineglass from her hand and taking a sip, “if I could possibly get any higher.”
He is invading her personal space and his eyes are impossibly green and so compelling that she wonders briefly if he’s placed some sort of enchantment on her.
“I’m sure it’s possible,” she finally manages, and the grin spreads across his face, slow and lazy and seductive.
He puts the wineglass down on a side table.
“I’m sure it is,” he agrees, and chuckles low in his throat.
He touches a cold hand to her cheek.
“Your hand is freezing,” she tells him.
He moves in even closer. “I am certain that you could warm me,” he whispers, and his breath is like ice.
She feels like she’s drowning in those emerald eyes, and oh God, it should not be so tempting.
But it is.
Not just because he’s so compelling. That’s part of it, of course.
But she is self-aware enough to know that right now she is mostly motivated by the desire for revenge. And sleeping with Loki would pretty much be the ultimate slap in the face to Tony.
And besides…
With effort she pulls away, recaptures her wineglass, and moves across the room.
“How’s Sigyn?” she asks pointedly.
He is clearly taken aback by this conversational shift. “What?”
“Sigyn. You remember her, right? You know, your wife.”
He smiles ruefully. “I believe that the expression here on Midgard is, ‘we are no longer an item’.”
Pepper blinks. “Oh. I… didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”
He shrugs. “These things happen. Not that it would have been of concern in any case. I have bedded countless mortals, and she did not mind.”
She has no idea what to say to this, and so she takes a sip of wine and waits for him to continue.
“You have been studying your Norse… well, you would say ‘mythology’, but…” He shrugs again.
“Right,” she agrees. “Not actually myths. Got that. And yes, I’ve been doing some reading.”
“Have you really.” It’s not really a question. He approaches her again, and this time she simply offers him the wineglass.
“Yes indeed. I’ve been checking you out, Loki,” she says, warming to the topic. “You’re a Jötun. A Frost Giant. Is that why you’re so cold?”
He is quiet for a long moment.
“I prefer not to discuss that aspect of myself,” he says, and his tone is a clear warning.
Conversation over. Pick a new topic.
OK then. She takes a breath.
“As you can see, I’m packing.” She moves across the room, finds the wine bottle, and comes over to refill the glass he holds. “I plan to be out of here tomorrow.”
He sips his wine. “Where will you go?”
She puts the bottle down. “I’ve already found a place.” He looks surprised, and she laughs. “Tony always said that I’m maniacally efficient.”
She takes the glass from him and drinks, and then wonders what she’s doing, what they’re doing. How is it that literally sharing a drink with Loki seems so normal and natural and comfortable?
Maybe she’s losing her mind. Yes, that would explain a lot.
“Perhaps I will visit you,” he says, and there is a promise in his voice.
The words are out of her mouth before she can stop herself. “I don’t date supervillains, you know. Just superheroes.”
His lips quirk up in amusement.
“I shall keep that in mind.”
And then he is gone.
FINIS.