~7:59 pm, Jan 7, 2017, Sigyn’s place~

~5 days later, 8:22pm, Thursday, January 12, 2017~

Bucky:  my sinuses are already feeling that storm that’s an hour west of here

Darcy: LIAR 

Almost immediately, Sigyn spotted Bucky waiting for them on the other side of the dance floor when she and Darcy were granted access past the bouncers outside the entrance doors. He waved his hand at them, a gesture that one could have easily mistook for the most disingenuous peace-sign ever, and Sigyn snorted.

“Your man looks thrilled to be here, Darce,” she said, taking the long way around the main floor to avoid walking through the sea of sweaty, undulating bodies.

“Oh my god, he is actually pouting,” Darcy groaned, mimicking Bucky’s expression right back at him when he caught her eye. “Like, full-on, pushing his bottom lip out pouting.”

“I’m not so sure that’s what he’s doing. I mean, he just has pouty lips in general,” Sigyn countered.

“Did I say you could look at his mouth?” 

“Forgive me. I had no idea I needed permission before moving my eyeballs in his direction.”

“Just his mouth. It’s too sexy. You’ll fall for him on the spot.”

“Oh okay, cool. I’ll just ogle his crotch instead.”

“That you may do, as long as he’s wearing pants.”

“Is Bucky prone to just going right ahead and dropping his trousers in public?”

“Wellllll…” Darcy trailed off as they approached her boyfriend, “he did sex me up in a Bloomingdales fitting room in December. Does that count?”

“Bloody hell, Darce! Talk about risky business. That place is packed in December!”

“Yeah exactly. The holiday shoppers were hardcore stressing us out, so I…you know…we gave each other a pressure release.”

“You’re both crazy, you know that?”

Darcy shrugged, finally getting within arms reach of her boyfriend.

“Hey, soldier boy,” she greeted him, going up on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss his cheek. “You know, doll, ” she said, pushing both corners of his mouth up, “you’d be a lot prettier if you smiled more.”

Batting her fingers away from his face, he flashed a fake smile—showed his teeth, more like—and responded flatly. “I’m so stoked to spend my Thursday night at Zecca NYC surrounded by a shit ton of drunk dancin’ babies tryin’ to hook up with other drunk dancin’ babies.”

Sigyn eyed the crowd. “They’re all probably like mid-twenties, Bucky.”

He took a sip from the tumbler in his hand, which Sigyn assumed was his typical old-fashioned, then he smacked his lips. “Like I said. Babies.”

“James Buchanan Barnes, I swear,” Darcy sighed, shaking her head. “How are you already this jaded at 32?”

Eyes narrowing, Bucky raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Flashin’ lights, ear splittin’ music, and bein’ surrounded by liquored up, self-entitled brats who don’t give a fuck about anyone else’s personal space is just a bit problematic for my head, doll.”

Darcy gave him a genuinely warm smile, sliding her hand into the front pocket of his jeans—a bold move that made Sigyn’s eyes nearly pop out of her head.

Uh, this better not turn into a replay of the Bloomingdales fitting room scene.

Thankfully, Darcy quickly removed her hand, holding what Sigyn recognized as Bucky’s vape pen filled with his self-prescribed medication, so to speak. Darcy discreetly put it to his mouth and winked.

“That’s what this is for, lov-errr,” she joked, grinning when he smiled and took a long drag from it. She turned to Sigyn and shrugged. “Problem solved.”

“The question of whether he’ll partake in the dancing remains to be answered,” Sigyn said, aiming her smile at Bucky while poking his shoulder.

“Yeah I probably will,” he answered with a nod, “until my friend gets here, that is.”

“Why would that make you stop?” Darcy asked, tilting her head at him.

“‘Cause he’s actually rhythmically coordinated, that’s why.” He shrugged.

Darcy squinted at him. “Is that supposed to mean good dancer?”

“Duh, what else would that mean?”

“God, you two are perfect for each other,” Sigyn snickered, putting a hand over her mouth.

“I’m not lettin’ you girls compare my hip rollin’ skills to his. Hell no. I may be stoned, but I still have my dignity.”

Shaking her head, Darcy wriggled her nose. “Are you sure about that?”

Arms crossing in front of his chest, Bucky scratched the underside of his chin. “I change my mind. I can’t let you meet him because I’m pretty sure knowingly subjecting him to your mean girl antics probably falls under the legal category of abuse in New York.”

Darcy eyed him carefully. “I actually can’t tell if you’re joking right now. What is with the hypersensitivity about this guy?”

“If you can’t tell that was a joke, then I’m givin’ myself a pat on the back for uppin’ my deadpan game,” he said, a genuine smile crinkling his eyes.

“Awwwww, look at that face,” Darcy fawned, pushing her arms under his, wrapping him in a tight hug. “Isn’t he the cutest, Siggy?”

“No,” Sigyn replied firmly, “puppies are. No, wait…kittens. NO,” she waved her hands excitedly, eyes widening, “baby sloths!”

“YES!” Bucky agreed loudly, giving her a high five. “Just yesterday I saw some random vid of a baby sloth in my recommended feed, and I ‘AWWWW’ed’ so hard I think I pulled somethin’. Every post on these people’s page was just fluffy little animals. Felt like I was bein’ adora-bullied into followin’ their account. Pfft,” he huffed, shaking his head, “and it worked. ‘Cause I did. Immediately.”

“Did you just say adora-bullied?” Sigyn repeated, eyeing him up and down. “Okay, you might not be the COAT, but you’re on the podium.“

“Coat?” Bucky tilted his head.

“Cutest of all time,” Darcy clarified for her, then jokingly gave her a warning look.”I told you not to fall for him!”

“That is absolutely not true,” Sigyn countered, pointing an accusatory finger at her friend. “You said I was not allowed to look at his sexy mouth, not that I wasn’t allowed to listen to his cute baby animal commentary.”

“Girls, there’s enough of me to share with both of you,” Bucky said, flashing a cheeky smile as he retrieved his phone from the front pocket of his jeans. Darcy shot him a glare, which he ignored while looking down at a new text. He sighed “oh thank god” rather dramatically, and Sigyn peeked at his phone.

LO: Bloody hell, JB, calm down. I'll only be out here on the pavement for a minute. Two at most.

She sucked in her cheeks, a slight sense of deja vu hitting her as she read the message. Was it the cadence or tone? Or both? The “voice” wasn’t just familiar — it was highly appealing. Bucky spoke then, distracting her from the butterflies that had appeared out of nowhere in her gut.

“He’s here finally. This is gonna sound weird,” he paused, his eyes still on his phone, “but Sigyn, I need you to play your hottest game for him.”

Eyes narrowing to slits, she looked up at the man, but given his laser-focus on his phone, she doubted he even realized she was staring. Honestly, she would have been offended that he was blatantly ignoring her if he hadn’t further piqued her interest in the identity of his friend by making that weird request—

Play my hottest game? Uh…what?

She eyed Darcy, who merely shrugged at her before saying, “I’m gonna get a drink so my buzz doesn’t wear off. Want anything?”

Sigyn shook her head. “No, I’m all set.”

As her friend turned away, Sigyn scratched the back of her neck, discreetly returning her eyes to Bucky’s phone while he continued conversing with his friend. If he insisted upon keeping his eyes glued to his damn Android rather than tell her more about this guy, then she had every right to read through their, presumably, enthralling conversation.

Bucky: Lemme guess. You got stopped by hot college girls asking for autographs and pics.

LO: Not ONLY girls, but yes, they look to be a university-aged group. Get this—one of them pulled a sharpie from her bag (who carries a sharpie with them?) and asked me to sign her leg so she could have it turned into a tattoo. I said, "You'll regret it but okay, not my problem." HOWEVER…

Sigyn blinked several times, the odd stomach butterflies returning. So…a crew of “not ONLY girls” had stopped Bucky’s mate for autographs? She couldn’t help but notice three things:

One—according to the contact info at the top of Bucky’s screen, he was texting someone named LO.

Um…okay hold on… 

Two—the image above the name was a photo of a white Jaguar F-type.

Oh my god.

And three— this fellow’s “not ONLY girls” correction reminded her of a line some random guy that she wasn’t remotely crazy about had once said to her.

“I take issue with that lad’s opinion. As though only GIRLS space out around me. Come on, mate. My appeal transcends gender.”

Sigyn pressed her lips together, lest her jaw embarrassingly detach from her skull as she pored over the words popping up on Bucky’s screen as though they were groundbreaking literary art. She quickly read over the rest of “LO’s” previous text, half of which she’d missed.

LO: …I kid you not, when I bent down to sign her calf, she said, "no no no no no, not all the way down there, silly boy.” (SILLY BOY?!) Then she pulled her skirt higher up, pointed to her inner thigh (just two inches from her crotch, mind you), and said, "I want it HERE."

WHAT?????

Bucky: Jesus christ

LO: Exactly.

Bucky: did you do it?

LO: Fuck no. 

Guess I don’t need to worry about going to prison for murdering anyone tonight.

LO: I merely stood up, handed the sharpie back to her, and told everyone I'm not signing anything, but that I'd take some photos with them if they want.

Bucky: Ouch. Deeee-nied.

LO: I might have done it, but there was something fishy about her.

Sigyn put a hand over her mouth, barely containing the laugh bubbling up in her chest.

Oh my god, I LOVE HIM.

Bucky, on the other hand, did not shy away from guffawing hysterically right next to her.

Bucky: MAN STOP  

Sigyn gaped at him, amazed that he was wiping actual tears from his eyes like an emoji. She felt like a ghost, an invisible bystander who he’d asked to be useful eye candy or whatever but had forgotten she existed the second a digital Loki appeared. Jesus, if these boys were that close, how the hell had they all not crossed paths with each other until now?

LO: I’m proud to say that joke was completely improvised just now on the spot.

Yep, Bucky’s secret friend is 100% definitely Loki.

Bucky: you really do have a way with words

LO: Considering my career choice, I certainly hope so.

Maybe he should call his next book “Silvertongue”…

Chewing her lip, Sigyn looked sideways. Silvertongue?—oh, the thoughts racing through her head would send her straight to hell.

Bucky: You’re being a dick to them btw. Nose in your phone ignoring your horny fans who wanna see your pretty pretty prince pearly whites in their pics with you

Eyes rolling, Sigyn caught herself before smacking Bucky’s shoulder while shouting, “He’s not a prince—he’s a STAR!”

LO: I'm multitasking. Texting doesn't hinder my ability to smile for their cameras. Also, I think it's adorable that you CLEARLY played "pretty pretty princess" as a child.

Thumbnail between her teeth, Sigyn gazed dreamily at the screen. 

Ah, Loki—smartest in the room, as always.

Bucky: no, I just played it with your sister last night

Eyes blowing, Sigyn clapped both hands over her mouth.

HE DID NOT JUST—

LO: Considering my sister was doing her rounds at a Boston hospital psych ward last night, that was a massive self-report, JB.

Sigyn snorted behind her palms.

And we’re back in the game, boys!

Bucky: Look at you, the multitasker, coming up with tight ten jokes while showering your fans with all-teeth-no-eyes fake smiles

LO: I thought that said "showering WITH my fans" at first glance. 

Um…that’s MY territory, thank you very much. I hope. Eventually.

LO: Horrifying image. Whatever. Given that I’m wearing sunglasses, they have no idea if I’m half-assing the idol part of my job by giving “all-teeth-no-eyes” smiles. My brand remains intact and charming as ever.

Yup, save those eyes for ME, dream boy.

Bucky: Can't be YOU without your goddamn shades. Ray Bans?

Always.

LO: Always.

NAILED IT! HA!

Bucky: Aviators or Wayfarers?

LO: Wayfarers, obviously. Only a troglodyte would wear aviators in winter, JB.

Note to self, delete that pic I posted last week in which I was wearing MY aviators in January, unknowingly committing a carnal fashion sin.

Bucky: This is such a gay convo

Therefore entertaining AND educational.

LO: Eh, seeing a barely concealed vagina in front of my face three minutes ago and saying "uh, no thank you" was substantially gayer.

AHAHAHAHA MIC DROP

Bucky: true story.  Aren't you done out there yet?

LO: Good god, stop being a whiny little bitch texting me every three seconds demanding that I pay attention to you, so I can finish making mindless chit chat with these people for 30 seconds, or I WILL ditch you.

Bucky: Nah, whining like a little bitch is YOUR thing but it’s cool bro LO. See ya in 30

“I saw you spyin’ on my texts, Sigyn,” Bucky said, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

She winced.

Busted.

“Sorry? I was only planning to look at the first one, but the banter was too entertaining to look away.” She flung up her hands. “Guys never text like that!”

“Correct. We don’t. Normally. I only talk like that to him. He’s a fuckin’ word wizard,” Bucky sighed, pushing his hand through his hair, “and my theory is that after I first mopped the floor with his face in class, he realized the only way to challenge my superior physical prowess was by slingin’ his evil genius dry Brit curveballs at my face in every goddamn text. I think of it as a workout for my brain. Like crosswords or sudoku. Textin’ Lo might actually be the best way to stave off dementia.”

Darcy pursed her lips. “You mean dry wit?” 

“Huh?” 

“You said dry Brit.”

“Yeah, ‘cause he’s from the dumbass UK.” He slowly turned toward Sigyn, holding up his hands. “That wasn’t for you. You’re one of the good ones.”

“Thanks,” she droned, eyes rolling.

Wiggling her eyebrows, Darcy elbowed her friend playfully. “So is he one of those ‘oy brAHv’ types or all posh and shit like Siggy?”

“I’m not posh!”

“Have you heard yourself talk?”

“Yeah?”

“Not exactly Eliza Doolittle, are you?”

“And as we all know, those are the only two options for us. Chimney sweeps or monarchs. Nothing in between.“

“I don’t know about her—“ Bucky pointed to Sigyn “—but Lo grew up in Oxford, then he moved to, of all places, TriBeCa with his folks for a summer before going off to Harvard for six years and comin’ back to Manhattan with two fancy-ass degrees.”

Darcy held up her hands. “Okay, posh, got it.”

“Now, Sigyn,” Bucky began, turning to face her directly, “like I said, you gotta pretend to be hot.”

Sigyn crossed her arms and shot him a glare. “Pretend to be?”

He looked sideways. “That came out wrong.”

“You think?”

“You know what I mean.” He waved a hand. “Point is, Lo needs to be so focused on you that he won’t notice Darcy gazin’ all slack-jawed at him.”

Darcy scoffed. ”Okay, first, why am I just now realizing you keep calling this dude Lo? What kind of weirdass name is that? And second, why the hell would I be gazin’ all slack-jawed at him?” she asked, mimicking Bucky’s drawling accent.

“Uh, ’cause full disclosure,” he paused, puffing out his cheeks, then he exhaled loudly, “man’s hot.”

”Damn right, he is,” Sigyn mumbled under her breath.

Darcy burst out laughing. “Buck-eeee,” she drew out his name, still wheezing, “you’re literally a 12 out of 10. Quit your whinin’, boy.”

“I mean…thanks…and all that,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck, “but he’s famous…and you kinda also have a crush on him, doll.”

Eyes blowing, Darcy’s jaw practically unhinged. “What the actual double fudge brownie? Well, this explains why you spend every Wednesday night and Saturday afternoon at that crazy-ass ‘I know Kung Fu’ class instead of going at it with your girlfriend.” She threw her hands up, then pointed an accusatory finger at Bucky. “You’ve been cheating on me with Keanu Reeves.”

“Riiiiight,” he droned, eyes narrowing. “Way to go straight for the jugular with the most outlandish, way out of my friend league guess. And…kung fu? Uh…wrong.”

“Uh…” Darcy mimicked him, “it’s a line from a small independent film called The Matrix.” She crossed her arms when Bucky mouthed ‘I KNOW’ at her. “Well, I don’t know who the hell else you’re talking about then because Keanu is literally my only celebrity crush.”

“He’s literally not,” Bucky said conclusively, taking another sip.

“Oh my god, just tell her!” Sigyn blurted out, then pressed her lips together while her friends looked at her like she’d just sprouted elephant ears. Putting both hands on her hips, she blew out a breath. “Apologies. I’m just a wee bit on edge because I’m not used to pretending to be hot for your full-disclosure hot friend who is famous but not Keanu Reeves.”

Or I’m just impatient as hell because it’s taking AGES for Loki to walk through those front doors! Whatever happened to his “be there in 30 seconds” promise??

“Jesus, chill,” Bucky said, then gestured toward the doors. “He’s just about to walk in. I see him talkin’ to Carl, all smiles and shit. Why in god’s name couldn’t I have gotten a shred of that whole ‘tall, dark, and moody’ charisma that he’s got goin’ on? Wearin’ fuckin’ Ray Bans on top of his head like it’s 8:00 in July, not January.”

“Uh, you are tall, dark, and moody,” Darcy groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose, then she went up onto her tip-toes. “Dammit, I can’t see the doors over these stupid people’s heads. Cripes cripes cripes, I hate being short.”

Heart skipping about a thousand beats, Sigyn turned around to look for Loki. She frowned, also struggling to see beyond the crowded dancefloor in the impossibly dim lighting. Picking anxiously at her nail polish, she growled under her breath, bending down a bit to possibly get a peek in the slivers of space between all these annoying people with their stupid stupid stupid bodies blocking her view.

Come on, come on, come on, come ON…

Another thousand rapidly accelerating heartbeats later, Loki finally walked past the bouncer Carl and came into Zecca’s neon lit entry way. She blinked slowly, her mouth turning up into an open smile. God, that man truly was a work of art, his already gorgeous bone structure and raven black hair taking on an otherworldly glow under those neon lights. The sunglasses on top of his hair glinted, shifting and moving, crowning him with an electric purple halo.

Wait…no, the way the light is reflecting off of those two lenses makes him look like he has HORNS, not a halo.

Scraping her teeth over her bottom lip, Sigyn smiled. “How appropriate for a handsome devil.”

She was so caught up staring at the epitome of male perfection on the other side of the room that she barely heard Darcy shriek loudly behind her.

“DUDE, WHAAAAT. Bucky, you are not friends with Loki Fucking Odinson.”

“Yeahhhh, I don’t think that’s his middle name, doll.” Bucky shook his head. “Actually, I don’t think he even has a middle name.”

Tapping her chin, Darcy hummed. “If he did, it would probably be something all cool and Viking-sounding like, I dunno, Ragnar or whatever. Come on, parents don’t name their kid Loki unless they’re into that shit.”

“Look who took her smart pills this mornin’.” Bucky grinned when she poked her tongue out at him. “Well actually, Lo does have a tattoo of their world tree. It has a skull in the roots.”

“What world tree?”

“The Norse one, duh.”

“Don’t ‘duh’ me. ‘Duh’ the alcohol co-opting my brain.”

“Even sober, I bet you wouldn’t remember what that tree is called.”

“Yeah, well, I bet you can’t remember it either.”

“Sure, I can. They called it…um…” he snapped his fingers several times, squinting at the ceiling.

“Yggdrasil,” Sigyn supplied the name of the legendary tree, sighing happily, her eyes sliding from Loki’s face to his left arm.

Lips pursing, Darcy leaned toward her. “Did you say Egg Brazil? What’s egg brazil? Oh my god, I’d totally go for a breakfast buffet right now.”

“That’s it,” Bucky laughed, patting Sigyn’s shoulder, “you’re my Trivial Pursuit partner from now on.”

Sigyn smirked, remembering that moment last Saturday night when Loki had yanked his shirt over head; she’d gotten her first glimpse of the tree inked into his upper arm. She’d felt him shiver when she’d traced her fingers along the sprawling black and jade branches and the silver roots. She supposed it was understandable that one might think there was a skull hiding in those finely detailed roots creeping around his bicep, but nonetheless, they would be mistaken. It wasn’t a skull.

“It’s a serpent,” she murmured dreamily.

Bucky squinted at her, leaning closer. “Huh?”

“His tattoo,” she clarified, her eyes still on Loki. “A serpent is hiding in the roots, not a skull.”

And it is unironically hot as HEL.

He tilted his head, his eyebrows knitting. “How do you know what Lo’s ink looks like?”

Pressing her lips together, Sigyn looked sideways at the man. At this point, she might as well just tell him, right? Surely, Loki wasn’t going to pretend that he was meeting her for the first time. After all, he’d asked her to come out to Zecca, knowing Bucky would be here. Running a hand through her hair, she shrugged, then opened her mouth to respond honestly to Bucky’s question, but Darcy let out another squeal, cutting her off.

“This is amazeballs,” Darcy said, bouncing on her toes. “Hey, Siggy?”

“Hmm?” Sigyn returned her eyes to Loki, watching him pull his phone from his jacket as he descended the six or so steps that led down to the main floor. Like clockwork, she heard a ‘ding’ from inside her bag. Smiling excitedly, she yanked the zipper open and retrieved her own digital wonderland.

Loki: Hello, gorgeous girl. Val and I finished up early, and as a highly selfish man, I must ask you to abandon your evening plans with your friend, and spend the rest of your waking hours with me instead.

God, she really did adore his messages—like reading tiny little stories from his head. She responded without hesitation, the thrilled knots in her stomach tightening further.

Sigyn: Hey there, handsome. I think we can work something out.

Loki: ...

Feeling as giddy as a kid on the last day of school, she smiled wide enough to hurt her cheeks. Loki was standing over there, looking like a sex demon — he had HORNS, for pity’s sake!— but he had no idea that she was even in the same building, much less thoroughly eyeballing him. Just as her phone dinged again, Darcy tapped her shoulder repeatedly.

“Hellooooo, Siggy? Remember that book I tried to get you to read last summer, but you refused to ’cause I said it would make you cry?”

Sigyn grinned. “I remember, yes.” How could she forget?

Darcy pointed at Loki. “That’s the author! That’s Bucky’s man! Well, not like, in a gay way, but whatever. You know what I mean.” She rolled her eyes. “I need like five more tequila shots before I talk to that guy. At least that way, when I say stupid embarrassing shit, I won’t remember it tomorrow. I told Bucky I don’t have a crush on him. That’s not the same thing as just, you know, mentioning how annoyingly attractive the guy is every time I happen to notice his book sitting on my shelf. No biggie.”

“Sure sure,” Sigyn said, too busy texting with dream boy to converse meaningfully with her best friend.

Loki: Oh, I KNOW we can work something out. I would have asked to come over to your place, however, I have been downright FORCED by my twitchy, club-hating gym mate, upon pain of being "accidentally" stabbed on the mats during training on Saturday, to journey to Zecca because he was similarly forced by his girlfriend and "CAN'T DO THIS ON HIS OWN!" His words, not mine.

SIgyn: Ooooh plot twist.

Loki: You must get your gorgeous self to Zecca right now and be with me because "I CAN'T DO THIS ON MY OWN." I jest. I jest. I’m not entirely averse to loud music or being among the YOUTHS. Truth is, I just really want to dance with you, and by “dance”, I mean shamelessly grind my crotch against your ass in public for four minutes straight. How’s that sound to you?

Sigyn: Sounds like you aren’t giving yourself enough credit for your dancing skills.

Loki: To my knowledge, you haven’t seen me dance. For all you know, I have no rhythm.

Sigyn: Actually, I was told that you're an excellent dancer.

Loki: Is that so? Who said that?

Sigyn: Bucky

Sigyn watched, all smiles, as Loki’s eyebrows pulled together. Slowly raising his head, he looked in all directions, his eyes moving back and forth almost comically. She snickered to herself, unconcerned that Bucky was eyeing her narrowly.

“You and Lo? For real?”

She heard him scoff behind her shoulder, and she turned to raise an eyebrow at him. “Do you have a problem with that Bucky?”

Sucking in his cheeks, he scratched the back of his neck. “My friend called you an honest to God dream girl,” he said, giving a weak laugh as she blinked mutely at him.

He said WHAT????

Stunned stupid, her jaw dropped. Her heartrate hadn’t just gone through the moonroof. It was up in the stars, zipping through the galaxy, suffocating her in the airless vacuum of space. Blowing out a shaky breath, she put a hand over her tachycardic chest, trying to calm down. Loki had really nailed it with that “live fast and die right” line at the end of his novel.

I am going to have a heart attack at the ripe old age of 28 years old, and it’s all his fault!

“I like you, Sigyn,” Bucky added, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder lightly, “so don’t give me a reason not to. Don’t you dare hurt him.” He stepped around her and walked toward his friend.

Sigyn frowned, unsure what to make of that statement—Warning, more like. Maybe Bucky was just really protective of Loki because of their similarly…um…problematic headspaces? She probably shouldn’t take it personally. Bucky probably would have said that to anyone else in her place. Right? Rolling her eyes, she shrugged it off, and refocused on Loki.

He still looked bemused, his eyes moving all over the place. She was bemused, too, because he’d confessed that she was an ‘honest to god dream girl’ to Bucky. The butterflies in her gut were on a roller coaster, swooping down to the pit of her stomach and shooting back up into her esophagus. God, she was so glad that she hadn’t ordered a fourth gin and tonic, otherwise she might double over and hurl on her own boots right here, right now. Thankfully, the universe decided to throw her bone—that angel of a DJ blessed her with a new (and perfect) song, distracting her from the odd mix of pleasure and pain in her belly. Smirking, she sent a text to Loki just as the chorus started.

Sigyn: Honest question —  Do they ALWAYS play Starboy the moment you walk into the club, or...?

She watched a slow smirk spread across his face, then he squinted into the crowd on the dancefloor. He returned his eyes to his phone after ten or so seconds.

Loki: Tell me where you are, Sig.

“God damn,” she whimpered to herself, her eyes rolling back inside her skull. She’d felt the deep, gravelly timbre of his voice in that text, and it had her reeling.

Sigyn: If I were terribly...thirsty...where do you think I would be, sir?

She saw the distinct shadow of his jaw clenching — so fucking hot — then he dragged his hand down his face, and spun left to hurry toward the bar area, nearly colliding with Bucky in the process. Trying not to giggle stupidly, Sigyn watched the two men clasp each other’s right hands and lean in to pat each other’s shoulders twice then step back. She wasn’t sure if that move counted as a hug or a glorified handshake. Either way, she was glad that Loki took a much more full-bodied approach when hugging her.

Darcy appeared suddenly behind Sigyn’s left shoulder. “I literally just threw back five tequila shots. Just like I said I would.”

Sigyn turned to eye her friend up and down. “You going to be okay, Darce?”

“Sure! Better than ever. Do you think he’d be weird if I called him Starboy to his face? Or maybe Lo? Maybe that’s too personal. Loki sounds low-key weird right now, though. Hahahahahaha, low key. Looooow keyyyy. Oh shit,” Darcy swallowed, blinking several times. “I overdid the liquor.”

“I’m sure Bucky will happily hold your hair back when you inevitably vomit in an hour.” Hearing Bucky’s voice somewhere behind her, Sigyn turned around to look for him. He was two steps from them, Loki trailing behind him. A smile spread across her face. “Speak of the devil.”

“Hey, I’m no devil,” Bucky scoffed, setting his arm over Darcy’s shoulders, likely aware that his girlfriend was unsteady on her feet.

“I wasn’t talking about you, Buck,” Sigyn responded, her eyes on Loki’s as he came up to the group, stopping a couple feet in front of her, a gorgeous smirk pulling at his mouth.

“I need to say something,” Darcy piped up, pointing back and forth between her best friend and the new guy, “apparently, my bestie is successfully pretending to be hot because, lord have mercy, y’all went straight to hardcore eyefucking at first sight.”

Looking sideways at the woman, Loki arched an eyebrow. “You think she’s pretending to be hot? You’re taking the piss, right?”

Darcy made a face. “Ew, why can’t you people just not be gross and say ‘are you kidding’ like normal people?” 

“All you bloody Yanks think ‘normal’ is a synonym for American,” Loki retorted, rolling his eyes.

Turning to look at her boyfriend, Darcy clasped her hands together. “Please tell me this dude is playing up his loyalist heritage to get my goat.”

Loki scoffed. “It’s cruel to force me—” he set a hand on his chest “—a British expatriate—into a paradoxical identity crisis by calling me a loyalist in public.” 

Darcy eyed him up and down. “Maybe you yourself are just a…what’s the word…” she pinched the bridge of her nose, then clapped when it came to her. “OH! An oxymoron!” 

“Indeed, I would very much appreciate having an oxy when speaking to a moron,” Loki said, forcing a flat tone despite the intense excitement bubbling up in his chest. He couldn’t believe Sig was here. He couldn’t believe it. She knew JB. She must have been a friend of JB’s girlfriend.

HOW did we go this long without running into each other? We should have met sooner! Life is too short for this delayed pleasure shit. I have been ROBBED.

“My god,” Darcy laughed out loud, “he is a word wizard, Bucky. I LOVE HIM. I feel my brain wrinkling right now.” 

“Tequila has a similar effect, so don’t get too excited,” Loki quipped, pointedly eyeing the empty shot glass she’d been pinching between her left forefinger and thumb ever since he’d first walked up to the pair of women.

Speaking of women, I want to steal the one who hasn’t said a word to me yet.

Wanting to soak up every inch of Sigyn’s body to cement the image into the space between his ears, he lowered his eyes to start from the ground up. His gaze landed on his girl’s pointed black suede ankle boots, and tilting his head sideways, he gritted his teeth behind closed lips. Instantly, he faded from his present reality, his mind taking him on a vivid, lucid dream ride out of Zecca. He lunged forward, grabbing his dream girl’s imaginary hand, spun on an imaginary heel, and shoved his way back through an imaginary too-dense crowd, desperate to get to the exit before an evil imaginary bouncer locked them inside this swanky, buzzing neon room.

Dragging her behind him, refusing to let go, he charged through the vaporous doors, unfazed by the cold January air stinging his eyes. Heart pounding louder than the soles of his boots on the cement, Loki sprinted west on Spring and turned left on Thompson, a motion capture blur of street lights and shop signs reflecting in a hundred windows flashing past his periphery.

A breathless, smoky voice echoed behind him—“Loki, these boots weren’t made for running!”—as he yanked her through the shadowy sliding doors of his building. Eight flights of hazy stairs disappeared beneath his feet, and suddenly he was on his balcony, stripping that dream girl of everything but those black suede ankle boots. He spun her around, stepping up behind her, hearing his words through ears that were not his own—“Hands on the safety rail, sweetheart.”

Bucky’s voice appeared next to his ear then, dragging Loki kicking and screaming off that balcony and back to solid, real ground. “Do you and those shoes need to get a room?”

Loki grinned at the joke. “No, but I might need a moment with the girl wearing them,” he murmured too quietly for them to hear. Blinking slowly, he lifted his gaze from Sigyn’s boots and locked eyes with her. “Hi.”

Biting into a smile, Sigyn stared at him, drowning in those jade pools staring back at her.

“Hi,” she echoed him, then winced when Darcy smacked her shoulder out of nowhere. “OW! What the hell, Darce?”

Darcy pointed back and forth between her best friend and Loki, her eyes narrowing. “Oh my god, he’s the dude, isn’t he?” She scoffed, flinging her hands up, then she laughed. “Holy bananas and pine nuts, Sigyn Elena Frey, what kind of best friend even are you? You have been hiding a Starboy in your back pocket like a goddamn ace up your pants leg for two weeks without telling me!”

Squinting at the woman, Loki pursed his lips. “Did you ask if I’ve been up her pants leg for two weeks?” He winked at Sigyn, and chuckling quietly, he turned to Darcy again. “Also, I think you might have mixed a few idioms together, darling.”

“Pfft, dahhh-ling, he says,” Darcy mimicked him, then held her hand out to him. “I am Darcy Lewis.”

“I gathered.” Loki reached forward to shake her hand. “Loki Odinson.”

“Duh.” Squeezing her eyes together, Darcy pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m so sorry. I had a bit more alcohol than my delicate constitution constitutes that I should have.”

Loki raised an eyebrow at Bucky. “She’s doing this on purpose, right?”

“Cute, isn’t she?” Bucky snorted.

“Sure, JB. I’ll be sure to run any future writing past Lewis to check for mixed metaphors and what not before passing it on to my editor.”

Darcy eyed her boyfriend. “Did he just call you JB? And me Lewis?”

“Yes and yes,” Loki answered for him, smirking at her. “I do what I want.” He turned to Sigyn then, leaning to her ear. “Can you guess what I want to do right now?”

“Grind your crotch against my ass for four minutes straight?”

“I would have said dance, but that works too,” he chuckled, slipping his hand into hers and pulling her behind him to the dancefloor.

“Hey, Lo, ditchin’ me already?”

Loki spun on his heel, turning to face his friend while walking backwards. “My song is almost over, JB! I have to get out here while I still can!” he called out, then reached up to slide his sunglasses down over his eyes and flashed a smile.

Sigyn moved closer to him, wrapping her arm around his waist as he turned around again to watch where he was walking. “Is it true that you only wear Wayfarers in winter and aviators in summer?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Reading my texts with JB, I see.” He clucked his tongue. “Bad girl.”

“I am a bad girl.” She bit her lip, then gave him a sheepish look. “I wore aviators last week.”

Eyes nearly popping out of his head, Loki scoffed. “Oh no no no no, Sig. For fashion’s sake, I think you need let me dress you from now on,” he chuckled. Finding a good spot to dance, he spun her around, pulling her back flush with his chest.

Sigyn leaned her head back on his shoulder, then slipped her hand up around his neck, pulling on him to bring his ear down to her mouth. “I’d prefer you undress me instead.”

Leaning his head back to meet her eyes, he gave her a dark look, his grip on her hips tightening.

His voice lowered an octave. “I can do that too.”

And when I do, your boots are staying on, gorgeous girl.

NEON DAYDREAMS CONTINUES IN CHAPTER FIVE, AVAILABLE DECEMBER 2021.

Visit the Neon main page HERE.

Neon Daydreams Chapter Links: ¹Caffeine Fireworks ²Silver Heart Eyes ³Moonroof Serotonin ⁴Wayfarer Winter ⁵(December 2021) ⁶TBD ⁷TBD ⁸TBD ⁹TBD ¹⁰TBD ¹¹TBD ¹²TBD

CHAPTER FOUR THEME SONGS:

“First Time” by ILLENIUM and Iann Dior (for Loki)

“Burn Slow (E)” by Jaira Burns (For Sig)

HOTEL HELL

PART ONE: LOKI

~Six Weeks Later, 11:17am, July 21, 2019~

Lying face down on his hotel bed in Paris, not even half-awake yet since he’d been out til 3 last night (this morning, technically), Loki heard his ringtone screaming at him from the bedside table like a shrill schoolmarm for the fifth god forsaken time.  Text alerts and notifications wouldn’t bloody shut up either.  Apparently, he’d been too drunk to put it on silent before he passed out.  Lovely.  Groaning as he stretched across the pillow, he blindly reached for the damn thing and looked at the screen.

5 missed calls and voicemails from his publicist- oh what NOW? -plus 7 texts from Val, 10 from Hela (what?!), 3 from Thor, 1 from his mum.  Considering his highly restricted settings for all social media platforms since their validation screwed with his already jacked up head just a wee bit too much, seeing 20 or so alerts from his accounts was disconcerting, to say the least.

Huh- none from Sig? Strange.

He frowned, putting a hand over his eyes because his head was killing him, then started the tiring process of looking through the digital barrage that apparently required his urgent attention.  The first text was from his publicist, linking to a TMZ (seriously? -a LINK?) post of some random woman with him at a bar last night.  Well, not with him.  He’d gone out alone.  And he came back to the hotel alone…somehow.  How he got back here was a bit foggy.  He sat up, squinting at the screen.

“What the hell?”

The caption read “Critically-acclaimed author spotted in Paris getting VERY close to an unknown woman.”

His jaw dropped. “Oh shit.”

He was facing the camera, a tumbler in his right hand- no doubt one of many glasses since he couldn’t remember a damn thing past 11-ish.  Unfortunately, the woman was not facing the camera, but was turned completely toward him instead, which would not be an issue if she weren’t actually wrapping her body around him like a koala.

Son of a-

Her left hand was gripping his waist…um…was that…under the hem of his shirt?  Yes- why else would the Calvin Klein logo just above his belt be visible?  Her right arm was slung over his shoulders, which again, wouldn’t be problematic if her bare leg wasn’t hooked around him so high on his hip that her inner thigh was flush with the button fly of his trousers.  Was this a joke?  Was it photoshop?  He squinted further, zooming in with his thumb and forefinger.

What even- her OPEN mouth is on my NECK?!

And it’s not photoshop, LO. This actually happened.

God, I can’t remember any-

His eyes popped wide open then as the whole thing came screaming back to him.  The specifics were lost on him, but his gut response to the gratefully brief interaction with that person was as clear as day- as though his brain had downloaded the situation and saved it in the “don’t touch me don’t touch me take your hands OFF me” file in his memory that was reserved for the WORST moments of his life.  Likely no one who had seen (or was now seeing) the image would register the look on his face as fear or extreme discomfort.  No, he looked…bored.  Straight face.  Glazed eyes.  Clearly tired.  His left hand was hanging awkwardly behind his back, and maybe that was the most obvious reminder of the general claustrophobic feeling in that moment when that girl appeared out of nowhere.  It registered as “I need space please dear god I just need space. MY space. My apartment. My city. This isn’t the right place. I’m in the WRONG PLACE!” and that’s what was hiding in his bored expression.

People who really knew him would see it in his eyes.  Sig most of all.  She might even know verbatim the words in playing in his head in this picture: “my knife is in my room, it isn’t on me, oh my god I forgot my knife this girl isn’t an actual threat so I wouldn’t actually use it on her but oh shit I do not have the ONE thing I HAVE TO HAVE”

He couldn’t remember specifically, but 100% that was the moment that he had called it a night.  A sudden realization of being caught out in the open without the only thing that kept him from being completely vulnerable absolutely would cause him to hightail it out of anywhere.  He reached down, feeling blindly around his belt, and sure enough, the blade was secure on it.  Dead on.  He left that bar and came straight back here just to put his knife where it belonged.  And then he passed out.  Oh, if only he’d thought to chug 2 litres of water first.

He groaned, wishing the pounding in his head would give it a rest as he scowled at the picture.  He scrolled to the next link, which was a different account’s post of a picture that was taken by a pap last May.  He remembered this one well since it was actually a good one, and he and Sig were happy as hell that day.  He’d been out shopping with Sig for the first time in… ever.  So… maybe this post wouldn’t be upsetting?  Doubtful.  Optimism had never done him any favors.

Yea I’m jealous of @SIGNFREY88 (talk about GOALS) but I am not bitter towards her bc obviously she makes LO happy and he DESERVES TO BE HAPPY.  But now one of their friends is saying they broke up in June before the tour?!! They were spotted in SoHo just THIS May, and they looked IN LOVE AF?! WTH HAPPENED I AM SO WORRIED ABOUT HIM  tell me you’re okay @LOKISWRITING (don’t tag them in the comments pls!) 

jfc don’t add to this drama   

Ffs YOU ALREADY TAGGED them 

Yikes your funeral. LO fans know not to talk about LFDG

Tf is LFDG? 

LFDG = LO’s Forever Dream Girl HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW THIS 

WHY ARE YOU YELLIN 

So he wrote sunlight for her and then she breaks up with him? That is fucked up  

How do you know HE didn’t dump HER?  

Because LO an  

Angel??? Nah sis. We all read Starboy.   

I’m a mess for him but like let’s not pretend he doesn’t play when the cat’s away.  

Noooooo I love them!  #logynforever 

Next book: “Nevermind. My Bad.”  

LO’s next book: Love is Dead   

LO’s next book: I Regret Everything  

LO’s next book: Think I’ll Try Dick Now Thanks

Wheezing at these book titles 

ILL TRY DICK NOW THANKS WTF 

Y’all evil 

What are you all, 12?  You shouldn’t even be ALLOWED to read his books at your age. If he and Sig legit called it quits, it’s no laughing matter. 

Ok Karen  

I’m 23 but nice try 

31 over here! Grown ups make jokes sometimes too  

28 and feelin great

81 older than LO and he likes it 

 YOU’RE 81?! I-

Omg I meant I was BORN IN 81 

WAS ABOUT TO SAY WE GOT A GRANNY STAN 

Sometimes feels that way 

Well if they DIDN’T break up, that means he just cheated on her in Paris  yikes

Cheated?? Bull.Shit. LO looks uncomfortable af in that pic. 

I’d go further than “uncomfortable”. That girl was literally GROPING him. Call it what it is: sexual assault. 

 I hope he presses charges

But the French police aren’t doing anything???

No one gives af when a woman does that to a man 

Ya’ll need to chill about that Paris pic. Man is fine. 

Stop obsessing over who he’s dating. Just enjoy his books and the view. 

His eyes blew wide at the screenshot of top comments that his publicist (who he was absolutely going to FIRE) had also sent that he unfortunately couldn’t unsee.  And how the hell did this person go off and tag his girl while telling everyone else not to like a goddamn digital schoolmarm?

God the lack of brainpower in this world is demoralizing.

He grabbed the hotel phone from the nightstand and threw it across the room, the cord ripping out of the wall with such force it yanked out a chunk of drywall.  The lamp came next as he growled at the empty room. 

“You’re worried about me?  Then maybe don’t post this rubbish at ALL!”

Eyes slamming shut, he sank back down onto the bed and rubbed his temples.

Oh, that was a mistake.

Son of a bitch– the wretched sledgehammer behind his eyes truly was going to obliterate his skull.

No more screaming or throwing things.

Pushing a shaking hand through his hair, he opened his recent calls, scrolling through until he got to Sigyn.  He tapped her name with his thumb and put his phone to his ear.

“Come on, pick up pick up pick up pick up,” he said through his teeth, pacing across the room.

It went to her voicemail: “Hey, it’s Sigyn. I’m DEFINITELY not gonna return your call, but I’ll consider texting you. Cheers!”

“Goddammit,” he said under his breath.  When he heard the tone on the other end, he pulled a hand down his face.

“Hi love, it’s um…” he squinted at his watch, his hungover brain struggling to convert the time difference, “…wow…is it really only 5:30 there?  God, I’m sorry for calling so early.”

No, I’m not.  I want you to call me back right this second.

“Just…” he sighed heavily, putting his hand over his eyes again, “please call me when you get this.”

He ended the call and stared miserably down at his phone.  His publicist would hate him for it, but he typed up a quick, entirely reactionary, unprofessional, unprepared, zero-fucks-given, LO-is-kinda-volatile tweet.

You talking money, need a hearing aid. You talking bout me, I don't see the shade. Switch up my style, I take any lane. I switch up my cup, I kill any pain. Look what you've done. I’m a motherfuckin' starboy.

Then, he sent it out into the seventh circle of hell known as “the internet”, entirely unconcerned for any of the goddamned consequences.

No apologies.  No regrets.  Now make the incessant DINGING stop.

Opening his settings, he checked his notification filters.  They were already restricted to alerts from Sig, Val, his mum, Hela (that jaw-breaking nutcracker was worth it), and a few others.  God, to think if he allowed push alerts from every fan, every journalist, every critic- both professional and bored trolls -his phone would probably explode.  So… wow…apparently his few favorite people were sending his phone into a dinging frenzy on their own, and the one person he wanted to talk to hadn’t texted him.  Okay then.  Nothing to do but silence the damn thing for now.  An overload of saliva flooded his mouth then, and his stomach turned over violently.

Oh…oh no…

Hand over his mouth, he dropped his phone on the bed and ran to the bathroom, making it just in time to avoid vomiting on the pristine floor tiles.  The alcohol from last night was certainly not helping the horrendous TMZ-induced nausea.  Or the headache.  He pushed to his feet on shaking legs and turned on the shower.  Waiting for it to heat up, he popped two aspirin and chased them with a bottle of water from the minibar.  Twenty minutes later, after scrubbing himself raw to wash off the residue from that woman’s hands and everything he had not done wrong last night down the drain, he checked his phone.

11:52 AM Missed Call from Forever Dream Girl

She’d called him back.  It wasn’t even 6 in the morning in Manhattan, and it was a Sunday.  This fucking perfect girl.  Sig had to be losing her mind over that photo.  Her protective instinct was off the charts, and it wouldn’t surprise him in the slightest if she was looking at flights to Paris right now.

Thumb hovering over the “return call” icon, he swallowed the lump in his throat, then nearly dropped his phone when a text from her popped up on the screen:

Sigyn:  I saw the picture, and heard your vm, AND TRIED TO CALL. PLEASE CALL ME.  I’M OBVIOUSLY AWAKE!

He sank to the bed and put his head in his hands.  Before he hit the call button, another rapid text popped up on the screen.

Sigyn:  k fine if you can't call for some reason THEN AT LEAST TEXT ME! TELL ME YOU ARE OKAY. PLS TELL ME YOU ARE OKAY 

Oddly enough the exclamation point made his headache worse- as though he could hear her too loud voice right next to him.  Blowing out a slow breath through his mouth, he gingerly laid back on the bed.  He needed to close his eyes for a second because the screen was too bright.

Sigyn:  omg Loki, love, please please please CALL ME

Sigyn: looking at flights right now swear to god

Sigyn: need you to pay for my ticket tho bc I DID NOT BUDGET FOR THIS

Sigyn: I’m at buckets place with farce and she’s DOING INSTA DETECTIVE WORK TO FIGURE OUT WHO TF THAT GIRL IS AND WHEN I GET THERE I WILL FIND HER AND THROW A LARGE HOT COFFEE IN HER FACE AND THEN I’M BRINGING YOU HOME

Sigyn: god damn autocorrect *BUCKY’S place *DARCE

Sigyn: LOKI 

Sigyn: 

Sigyn: im about to call hotel security to check on you

The pounding in his head finally eased up, and he opened his eyes, frowning at the screen which he had not clicked off and therefore appeared to be reading but ignoring her string of texts.  Great.  He tapped on her contact avatar to call her.

~Same time, Bucky’s apartment, Brooklyn, NY~

Sigyn breathed “oh thank god” when Loki’s picture and name lit up her screen.  She tapped to answer his call instantly while pacing anxiously around Bucky’s living room.  He spoke before she had a chance to get out the “ey” part of “hey”.

“I’m okay, sweetheart,” his gravelly voice came through her earbuds like the prettiest music EVER.

She dropped to her knees, no doubt bruising them on the hardwood, and cried into her palm.

“Are…are you…” she tried, her voice breaking between sniffles, “are you sure?”

No way in hell could he imagine how god damn relieved she was to hear him.  She would give anything to have him physically with her, but at least the satellites were on her side, connecting Loki to her over a seemingly endless ocean.  Not that she should feel disconnected to someone who held her heart in his hands.  She heard him sigh heavily on his end.  He sounded exhausted.  Shocking.

“Other than vomiting about twenty minutes ago?  Yes, I’m sure.” Another sigh. “Drank far too much last night.  I now relate to that ‘gettin too old for this shit’ line on a level I previously thought inconceivable.”

She smiled despite herself. “Even hungover your vocabulary exceeds what I previously thought inconceivable.”

“Mm,” he hummed, making a sound somewhere between a deep laugh and a groan, “stop stroking my ego, woman.”

Oh, what she wouldn’t give to stroke something.  Namely that incredible thing between his thighs.  God, why oh WHY wasn’t there an app for jumping into the phone screen and arriving in her boyfriend’s hotel room on the other side of the ATLANTIC?  Ugh his voice sounded so good.  Hearing his voice was like listening to the taste of gourmet chocolate melting in your mouth.

Closing her eyes, she licked her lips, picturing his-

NOT HELPING.

She rolled her eyes.  For pity’s sake, she hadn’t been able to get through five straight minutes without thinking of him in six weeks.  As though she needed help remembering that she hadn’t had the immense pleasure of sleeping with him since June 10th– a thousand bloody years ago! Oh, it made her see red every time.  When he got home, she was going to make up for all this absurd time lost by attaching herself to him in every way possible for a solid month.  Seriously, she might just quit her job, toss her overly demanding to-do list, and make a new one.

To-do list:

Loki

LOKI

LOKI

LOKI!!!!!!

“I feel a bit better since I had a shower.”

She bit her lip, trying to suppress a moan as the glorious image of her ridiculous specimen boyfriend naked and dripping wet shot into her brain like ‘spray and pray’ fully automatic rapid-fire rounds.  

Go ahead, shoot me, Loki.  I’ll even THANK you for it.

She was the worst girlfriend.  He was dealing with the aftermath of excessive alcohol, creepy people groping him, and fucking TMZ blasting it all over the planet, but she wasn’t consoling him with heartfelt concerned and caring words.  No, here she was daydreaming about him stepping out of a shower, dropping his towel, and fucking her on his bathroom counter.

“Sig?”

One of his hands would hold her hip, the other stretching up, splaying flat against the mirror behind her back.

“Sig, sweetheart?  You there?”

With her legs shaking uncontrollably, she would attach her open mouth to the hinge of his jaw as she clung to his back and shoulder. God, her toes would curl so hard.

“Um…I can hear you breathing hard, gorgeous girl.  What in god’s name is happening right now?”

She snapped out of her fantasy at the sound of creaking floorboards.  Darcy had walked into the room, saying something about Bucky making pancakes.

“Do what?” Sigyn asked, shaking her head.  She saw her best friend’s lips moving but only heard Loki’s voice.

“Since I hear Lewis in the background being loud as ever, I assume you are unfortunately not in a bedroom with the door shut, and therefore do not have your hand inside your little purple sleep shorts, which is what I was envisioning.  Wow, I think the cure to this hangover is a hard-on because my headache and nausea have left the building.”

Oh god, her insides were melting.  She felt completely flushed, and from the knowing expression on Darcy’s face, she looked it too.

“Jesus, get a room, Siggy,” she smirked, grabbing a coffee mug.

“I heard that,” Loki’s deep baritone rumbled in her ear as she pushed to her feet.

Eyes rolling, Sigyn flipped her best friend off as she brushed passed Bucky in the hall.  He gave her a gruff morning greeting, which she returned with a flippant wave while closing the second bedroom door behind her.  Ignoring Darcy laughing in the other room, she flopped onto the bed face first and groaned.

“I miss youuuuuuu,” she whined, hitting the mattress repeatedly with her fist.

“Me too, sweetheart,” he sighed after a beat, “even more so after last night.”

The disappointment in his voice brought her back from her sex-starved haze.

“Did anything happen after…” she started, gesturing to the empty room even though he couldn’t see her, “after whatever was going on in that photo.”

“No,” he responded quickly and firmly, “I was just having a drink- or eight drinks -and she appeared next to me, asked for a hug, and didn’t wait for me to respond.  She grabbed me, and her friend took a picture.  That was the extent of it.”

Sigyn grit her teeth, pushing up to her knees, twisting the bedspread angrily.  Honestly, she wanted to cut that person.  Her friend too.

“She’s lucky I wasn’t there to kick her in the vagina.”

“Oh, if ONLY,” he laughed hard enough to make himself go into a coughing fit. “I’m more exhausted than anything.  I had more energy the first few weeks.  I could sign books and listen to their stories, and make jokes and take selfies, but it’s been six weeks.  I’m supposed to smile at these things, but I’m fairly certain I just look pissed off all the time now.”

“Anyone with half a brain won’t fault you for that.”

“Can you believe my publicist sent me a post captioned ‘LO looking mean af is my sexuality’?  He said I need to get back on-brand, and stop being MOODY.”

“Quill sent me that same post in my DMs, and I won’t lie,” she scratched the back of her neck, “you do make ‘mean’ look hot as hell.”

“Well alright then,” he said, sounding like he was smiling, “I’ll make sure to scowl more for your sake.”

Blowing out a breath, she ran her hand through her hair.  Uh…yes please.  Some of his angry looks (not aimed at her) made her want to get on her knees and call him ‘sir’ until her voice gave out on her.

Good lord, I am ACHING.

Yeahhhh, pull it together, hon.

She was on the verge of sobbing.  He wouldn’t be home for another two weeks, and that was so far away.  Was it too much to ask the universe for magical teleportation powers?  She hadn’t been this desperate to get her hands on him since…ever.  Even when they started dating and were in that thrilling build up to the main act stage, when just talking to him was enough to get her high, she hadn’t been this worked up over him.  Talk about a helluva drug.  

“I don’t know how the hell to make it through two more weeks, Sig,” he said, sounding so SAD suddenly.

Looking sideways out the window, she swallowed, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up.  She could feel a thick layer of darkness in his tone, the same tone of Starboy’s unnamed narrator.  She had always imagined his voice while reading it, but she’d never actually heard Loki speak like this.  It wasn’t just dark.  It was…what was the right word for it?  

Dangerous.

Downward-spiral dangerous.

Bottle of oxy dangerous.

Tears prickled her eyes as she continued staring out the window.  She wasn’t ready for it.  Not yet.  Not that she could ever be ready for hell, but she needed more time to heal from this awful year before she had enough strength to wrap her arms around him and kick and kick and kick to keep his unbearably heavy head above the water.

She’d known theoretically that it was a possibility- that eventually she would see this part of him.  He’d mentioned on and off how this worked, and she had done her own research because he was too important for her to not have a clue what to do for him.  The dark was always there, lurking, waiting in the shadows in the corner.  He sighed then, bringing her out of the “theoretical” darkness to come and instead back to the here and now.

“I know what you’re thinking, sweetheart,” he said, his voice straining a bit, as though he were stretching out after waking up. “And you don’t have to worry about it.  I’m fine.  I swear.  Just tired and ready to come home.”

Eyebrows pulling together, she chewed her lip. “It’s okay if you aren’t fine, love.”

“Sig.”

“Loki.” God, she loved the sound of his name.

“I’m FINE.”

She stared blankly at the window, wanting to question him further but knowing better than to prod him.

“Oh, you’re fine alright, forever dream boy,” she said, smiling when he chuckled.  Can’t go wrong with a joke. “I can’t wait to see you.  I’m losing my mind over here.”

~Back in Paris, Same call~

Loki hummed. “Thirty-six years ahead of you on that front.” 

“How did I know you would say that?”

“Not exactly a hard one to predict,” he said with a shrug.

“Don’t talk about HARD things.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, pressing his lips together to keep from laughing.

“Don’t say that either.”

Smiling wide, he threw his free hand up. “Alright, what am I allowed to say, picky girl?”

“Ummm… you may talk about the weather.”

“Ah,” he said, eyeing the window when the faint rumble of distant thunder echoed in his hotel room. “Well, it is going to be a wet one today.”

“Oh Loki, come ON.”

Shoulders shaking, he rolled onto his stomach and laughed into the pillow. “I can do that, but first I need you to tell me what you want me to come on.”  He couldn’t help it.  She’d said “oh Loki” loud enough to require pulling his phone away from his ear.

“Insufferable jerk.”

“You love me.”

“Oh hardcore.  Question- would you mind if I answer ‘did LO break up with his girlfriend’ on my Insta?  Or is that too-”

“I don’t mind at all,” he said, pushing off the bed and going to his bag to dig out a fresh pair of jeans and a t-shirt, “I suggest you turn off comments though.”

“I was already going to turn off comments.”

He grinned just a touch. “Smart girl.”

She didn’t respond, and the silence persisted so long that he thought the call had dropped.

“You there?” he asked, one eyebrow raising.

“Yes,” she answered after another beat, then sniffled- a sure sign to him that she was trying to not cry, “I’ve got to go get dressed for a depressingly early yoga class with Darce.”

Putting a hand over his eyes, he nodded. “Okay.”

He didn’t want to hang up.  Ever.  This was the most he’d missed her, and that was saying something.

“I love-”

“-love you.”

They’d said it at the same time, and he ended the call immediately.  He was on the verge of absolutely sobbing, and he didn’t particularly want her to hear it.  He stared at the wall, wondering how much it would cost to repair it if he put his fist through it.  Ten seconds later, he received a notification (the only one he hadn’t turned off) that she’d tagged him in a new post and captioned it “cannot wait to dance on a rooftop in NYC with him again #foreverdreamboy” along with a row of black and red hearts.  It was a throwback, one that he hadn’t seen before, but he recognized the date and location as being from Lewis’s 4th of July party last summer.

Lewis had put her phone in his face and said something about “Lo-Lo’s pretty pretty hair.”  Sig had laughed, and he had refused to smile.  Oh god, it was such a good picture- why hadn’t Sig ever sent it to him?  Hitting the reply icon, Loki typed out “2 weeks, 2 weeks, 2 weeks, 2 weeks” (multiple fire emojis included for emphasis) and hit the heart icon.

2 weeks indeed.  Hopefully, “dancing on a rooftop in NYC” was code for destroying his bed in his apartment.

Hopefully, she’ll let ME lead this time.

~2 weeks later, 6:50pm, August 3, 2019~

Loki:  Guess who just landed at JFK. 

Sigyn:  !!!!!!

Sigyn: When will you get home?

Loki: Probably about 9:00. I have to go through immigration and get an UberBLACK and all that. I will obviously let you know if that changes.

Sigyn: 2 more hours booooo.  I’ll be at your place. Unless you need some space to decompress?

Loki: Oh my god, no no NO.  PLEASE be there.

Sigyn: Down, boy.  See you soon.

Loki: Cannot wait.

At 9:20, with his carry-on backpack slung across one shoulder, he breezed into his building- oh thank god, FINALLY -and shook hands with his doorman as the driver removed his two checked suitcases from the trunk of the car and rolled them inside.  Giving a quick “thank you” wave, he grabbed the handles of his suitcases and rolled them to his elevator.  He took off his backpack to dig out his keys, his heart rate climbing faster than the lift taking him up to the top floor.  Keys between his teeth, the doors slid open, and his pounding heart stopped altogether.

Sigyn stood in the hall, bouncing on her feet and smiling brighter than the sun itself- a smile that he returned in full, his keys still hanging from his mouth.  He moved without realizing it.  One second he was in the elevator, and the next he collided with her in the hall, wrapping her in a rib-breaking hug.  They might have stood like that for a minute or an hour.  He didn’t know.  He didn’t care.

Pulling back just enough to slide her arms out from under his, she smoothed her hands up his chest and over his shoulders.  He bent down to her face, and suddenly it was New Years.  There wasn’t music or dancing or confetti or clinking glasses or deafening fireworks, yet somehow, he heard all of it.  Behind closed lids, his eyes rolled back, the blood rush and the chemical rush sending him sky high.

Hello, my name is Loki…

And I am a lovesick fool of a man.

Hands in her hair, unable to pull his mouth away from hers, he dragged her blindly down the hall, his back hitting his half open door with a solid thud that knocked the wind out of him.  Gasping like he’d been kicked, he blinked rapidly, and she abruptly turned and ran back down the hall, pushing the elevator button repeatedly before disappearing behind the doors.

Eyes blowing wide, he had a completely unfounded moment of panic.  Where was she going?  What was this?  How had he already screwed this up?  He eyed his surroundings, breathing hard.  Had he just hallucinated that reunion?  Was he still on the plane, dreaming inside a benzo-induced nap?  Out from behind the lift doors, he saw his suitcases speed across the floor and slam into the wall on the other side of the hall as though they had minds of their own.

Suitcase robots?

This must be the Xanax.

But then Sigyn came running out after the R2-D2 rejects, shouting something about him forgetting his “stupid heavy!” bags.  Ah, that’s what happened- she’d shoved them out.  That made far more sense than robots.

Hello, my name is Loki, and I am clinically insane.

She left them in the hall and ran back toward him, saying he could get them after.

“After?” he repeated, his lower stomach clenching as she neared him.

After?  After what?

DETAILS, PLEASE. AND BE SPECIFIC.

“After we fuck about thirty times,” she said, as though it was obvious, then quite literally crashed into his body, grabbed the back of his head, and yanked his gaping mouth down to hers.

Jesus. Christ.

She walked him backward into his apartment so quickly- so violently -that his backside hit the key table and knocked everything off, including her laptop bag, which they both tripped over then crumbled to the floor in a pile of limbs.  It could have been hilarious, but the last thing on his mind was comedy while his girl was tearing his clothes off.  Right there on the floor in front of his door, since apparently, they couldn’t handle waiting the ten seconds it would take to get to his bed, she begged him to lead.  She begged him to pull her hair harder, to kiss her harder, to fuck her harder.

When he woke up the next morning his back was covered in faint scratches.  This was the wake up after a bad dream.  He was back in NYC, in his bed, and Sig was lying next to him, grinning in her sleep.

August 2019 was beautiful.  He felt like he was falling in love all over again with her every day.  The falling continued into September…

Falling from cloud nine.

Falling from a cliff.

Falling from every pedestal she’d ever put him on.

He was one of those muted grey, dried up, dead leaves that had fallen onto the pavement outside his building.  And he dreaded the moment when she would replace him with something new and colorful in the spring, when the warmth of her sunlight brought someone else out of their endless winter grey.  She would give her new year to another man, and he would be grateful that he was dead already so he wouldn’t have to watch.

CLOSING BELL

PART TWO: SIGYN

~6 weeks later, 12:17am, September 12, 2019~

Sigyn hated August.  It was too hot and too long, with too many tourists trying to catch that last bit of summer vacation before school started.  August made her wish the sun would just go take a walk and cool off.  In her opinion- the RIGHT opinion! -August sun needed to enroll in an anger management program.  It acted like it was pissed off at everyone, so it punished them with constant nagging and never-ending sick burns.  August sun just loved roasting Manhattan, turning it into a giant oven that wasn’t hot enough to kill you, but it did make you want to die.  It was atrocious.

Ugh, the concrete just baked all day, and the glass windows reflected that heat in all directions, and everyone was a sweaty mess by the time they got to work each morning.  See, this is why she kept baby wipes, deodorant, dry shampoo, and a hair dryer in her office.  Admittedly it was extremely odd, perhaps disturbing, but she even brought an extra pair of underwear in her bag every day because yes, it was that hot, and sweating in certain places was just- ugh.  Also, she was a bit paranoid about UTIs.  So, thank god, it was now September, right?  Nope.  Still hot as fuck.  God, it was pushing 90 today.  Not cool.

“NOT COOL?…hahahahaha…no ‘pologies for th’ puns!” she laughed, trying not to let the five-ish drinks of the night make her slur her words too much as she stepped out of an Uber outside of her building.

The driver gave her an utterly confused look. “What’s that, ma’am?”

“The puns, boy!” she answered, halting halfway through closing the back-right door and bending down to see him better.

“You’re face… sooooo funny,” she snorted.  Then she looked sideways, her lips pursing. “Oh, did I think or say that?”

“That my face is funny-looking?” His face did not look pleased.

Noooooooo, he’ll give me a shitty customer rating!!

“NO,” she waved a hand and pointed to his face, “nah nah nah you’ve a handsome face no worries.  You made a funny ex-press-ion,” she enunciated the word slowly, forcing the correct pronunciation, which was decidedly not easy.

Fuck- I am so drunk.

She bit her lip and winked, which was probably overkill, but he smiled wide, and she could see his face flush even at this late hour with no sun left to shine a light on his pink cheeks.  Good.  Mission accomplished.  That should earn her an extra star, hopefully.  Honestly, was there anything that flashing a sexy smile wouldn’t get her?

Hm… feminist credibility.

She shook her head a bit, annoyed with her head for providing that extremely on the nose finger-wagging answer, then she put her hand on her hip and smiled again.

“Must’ve made th’ joke in m’ head,” she said, gripping the door harder because the space around her felt like it was wobbling, and these heels were not helping.

He checked all around him, presumably making sure he wasn’t blocking traffic, then returned his eyes to her.  She noticed him looking her up and down, mostly focusing on her chest.  She looked down at herself, and rolled her eyes, adjusting her stance and her top.  Okay, maybe she shouldn’t bend over like this in public.

Oof, sooooo awkward.

“K, bye!” she smiled again and waved, slamming the door and hurrying to her building on somewhat shaky legs.

She climbed the stairs to the third floor, clinging to the railing because seeing straight was a task right now.  Was it midnight?  Maybe?   She didn’t care.  All that liquor would make tomorrow morning a bitch, but how else was she supposed to get through all that “functional fitness” blathering between Thor and Sam at the bar tonight?  Thank heaven Darcy was there to provide more interesting conversation.  Namely, graphic sex talk that had Hela cackling to the point of falling off a barstool.  Witnessing that was a riot (Loki would have died if he’d seen it) but that stupid barstool ended up sliding across the floor right smack into Sigyn which made her spill a full drink that she paid for with hard earned money!

Spilled drink aside, what a FUN night.  Only one thing would have made it better: Loki.  She’d wanted him to come along, but he’d said he needed to write, so…yeah okay.  Write write write.  Again.  Over and over.  So far, September was just ships passing in the night.  After spending all of August going at it like rabbits, this was killing her.  It felt like a legit crash from a high.  Maybe he hadn’t felt it, but for her, August felt like falling in love with him every day.  If it weren’t for the stifling summer heat, she would decree that August was her new favorite month from now on because, yes, her boyfriend’s hips were that convincing.

Fuck- she missed him so much now.  She didn’t have a good enough word to describe how much.  She needed to pick Loki’s “tricky” brain for a decent adverb.  For hell’s sake, he may as well be back in Europe for all the lack of time they spent together, and that is a thought that she should have kept to herself.  But no, she just had to say it out loud to his face before she left to go out tonight.  Then she’d gone full passive aggressive- “okay well if you can’t take a break from the NON-STOP writing as of late and spend a few measly hours with your supposed forever dream girl, that’s fine.”  He had given her the dirtiest look of the century- and not good dirty.

She’d played it off as an attempt at humor when he reminded her (through his teeth) that his first draft was due at the end of the month, and that he had not been able to write “one decent goddamn word!” during the tour and that if it hadn’t been for her “occupying every single thought and breath” in August, maybe he would be able to take a break and spend a “few measly hours with his forever dream girl!”  She probably should have interpreted that as him saying “I can’t get enough of you, and in August, I SHOWED that, but even though I still FEEL it, I HAVE to get this shit done, or HC will send a hitman after me, so please stop accusing me of ignoring you because that IS NOT WHAT I AM DOING.”

But she didn’t interpret it that way.  His actual words didn’t even register.  They were too loud and too angry, and she just didn’t have the energy to translate or rationalize the increasingly frequent yelling.  However, he did apologize for yelling at her, and it was without her prompting him to do so.  Said he was overwhelmed, that the anxiety was getting to him.  It never ceased to amaze her that he could just openly admit how stressed he was, and how it was affecting his emotions.  Loki had to be the most painfully self-aware man on the planet to be able to stop himself mid-rant and say he “felt like a piece of shit for taking that tone” with her. 

Stars above, he had the most effective puppy dog eyes ever, and that was 100% because she knew they were real.  He wasn’t faking what was happening behind those eyes.  His beautiful mind was full to the brim with endless words and stories and a million ways of putting them together, all of which he made look fucking effortless, but he didn’t need to use any of it if he just looked at her.

God help me- I am forever WRAPPED.

Still climbing the stairs, she blew out a breath, hiccupping so loud it actually echoed in the stairwell.  She giggled a little at the sound.  Loki would have laughed if he heard it too.  Come to think of it, he probably had heard it.  He was at her apartment earlier, so…maybe he was still here?  Hopefully.  No amount of being jealous of his time or being hurt by hearing him yell at her stood a chance at deterring her from wanting to shove her tongue into his mouth right now.  She bit her lip at the thought.  If she wasn’t already sweating, she would be now.

Lord, the THIRST.  Hm…must be mid-cycle.

“Man better be on m’couch where I left ‘m,” she mumbled, reaching up to wipe her fingers under her eyes.  No doubt her eyeliner was running most beautifully right now.  Nothing said “totally sober and classy” quite like dark mascara circles and red glassy eyes.  Swiping the back of her hand across her forehead, she groaned, yanking her keys out of her clutch as she walked to her door.

“Make it STAHP!” she yelled, stumbling inside and fumbling to get the key out the lock.  Once she was successful, she looked up and saw Loki on her couch, peering up at her from over his laptop.

“Yay!  He’s still here!” she squealed, and he visibly winced at her words.

“Make what stop?  Or in your version- STAHP?  If you’re referring to that shrill sound coming out of your mouth, I agree.  Please don’t do that again,” he deadpanned, smiling when she stuck her tongue out at him.

She let out a relieved breath.  He’d actually smiled at her- at the girl who was the source of his earlier annoyance.  His mood must have improved over the last few hours.  Thank heaven.  She walked toward him, careful not to trip in her strappy heels.

“Nooooo, my voice’s decibel jus’ righttt,” she hissed, putting extra emphasis on the ‘t’ as she tossed her keys and clutch on her coffee table and dropped heavily onto the couch next to him.

“So eloquent,” he returned his eyes to his screen, “does ‘my voice’s decibel jus right’ translate to ‘I’m not being loud’ or…”

“Pfft,” she blew her hair out of her face.

“Alright then,” he snorted, his fingers clacking away over the keys.  After a moment of silence, she piped up abruptly at a ‘NOT decibel jus right’ level that made him nearly jump out of his skin.

“I meant I want the hot to go away!” she flung her arms up.

“Bloody hell, woman,” he groaned, curling his arm around the back of her neck, and clamping his palm over her mouth while continuing to type with one hand. “Of course it’s hot.  It is still summer.  Now shush.  I’m working.”

She rolled her eyes.  Yes, obviously he was working.  She was drunk, not clueless.

She reached up to pull his hand away. “Diff’renz between Augus ‘n Septemmerrrr.  Pluz,” she raised her pitch, “all work ‘n nooooo playyyyy la la la la la.”

Well, you certainly SOUND clueless, girlie.

It’s SepTemBer, moron.

“From the sound of it, I think you played enough for the both of us at that bar tonight,” he said, fingers still clacking away.

“You should’ve cooooooome,” she whined, leaning her head on his shoulder.

Eyes still on his screen, he smirked. “Oh, I love coming.”

“Ummmm…me too, so lez do sex thingz,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

He stopped typing and looked at her sideways. “Your intelligence astounds me tonight.”

“I know, riiiiight?!” she laughed out loud, and he shook his head.

“Ridiculous girl,” he sighed, chuckling low as he started tapping the keys again. “I just have one paragraph left, and then we can do sex things.”

“Sounz fun,” she grinned, walking her fingers up his stomach. “Want know who appeared tonight?”

“If you want me to finish this paragraph, stop talking.”

“The beeeea-uuuuutiful, superrr scarrrrry, an’ shoxingly hilari-uz Doc-torrrrr Hela Odinnnnn-zun, PhD.”

He tore his eyes away from the screen immediately. “WHAT? And I missed it?!  My big sis who lives forever away in Boston and acts like I hung the moon randomly pops up, and I wasn’t even there!”

“Shhhhh!” she put her fingers over his mouth. “Now your decibel‘s not-” hiccup “-right.”

“Christ, Sig,” he said, squinting at her, “seriously…how much did you drink?”

“Nuff for th’ both of us ‘pparently,” she snorted, snatching his laptop away. “This’s too hot.  Killing sperm y’know.”

Now that got him to laugh out loud.  He threw his head back, turning red as he rubbed his eyes, which were now watering.  For a second, she was just so pleased to have made him cackle hard enough to make him cry.  She loved that he genuinely thought she was funny.  Making him laugh was one of her favorite pastimes.  But the longer she stared at his Adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down with the vibrations from his laughter, her eyes glazed over.

Best. Neck. Ever.

“Is poss’ble t’ be ‘tracted to necks more than th’ owners ‘f said necks?” she slurred, leaning over to set his MacBook on her coffee table.

“I feel like I am trying to interpret what my 3-year-old nephew is saying.  No actually,” he held up a finger as she slung her thigh over his legs and moved up to straddle him, “you are even less comprehensible.  This reminds me of when he was two.  It sounded like ‘ung-le Lo-gi max zor-eez’ which according to Hela meant ‘Uncle Loki makes stories’ and I think that is a display of intelligence beyond yours at the moment.”

“Oh, shut up,” she laughed, draping her arms around his neck and kissing him.

“You taste like vodka,” he said, licking his lips before leaning back in to catch her lips between his.  Running his hands from her bare knees up her smooth thighs, he groaned and stood up with her still wrapped around him.

“Couch’s too small,” he explained, even though she hadn’t asked, when he turned to sit on the bed, keeping her on top of him.  He leaned in to kiss her neck under her ear, and her head fell back.

Sliding her hand up his spine, she wrapped her fingers around the back-underside curve of his head.  She leaned forward again, breathing hard against his mouth.

“I miss this.  I miss you,” she whispered, biting her lip and moaning as he rocked up into her and slipped his thumbs underneath the hemline of the black and white striped suit-shorts she’d worn to work.  God, she needed to get his joggers off now.

“We do this almost every day, Sig,” he hissed, eyes closed tightly as her fingers tangled in his hair.  He released the tension in his neck, letting his head fall back into her hands.

“Thaz true,” she said, trailing her mouth up the tendons in his neck, stopping once she reached the hinge of the sharpest, sexiest jaw ever. “Still not good ’nuff.”

“Don’t start this again,” he groaned, his teeth scraping over his bottom lip, letting her drag his black t-shirt over his head and kiss down his chest.  She slid back a little, dropping to her knees on the ground at the edge of her bed.

“I can feel it right now- you’re stug ‘n your ‘head, Starboy,” she mumbled, her face just below his navel.  Stars above, his skin tasted so good.

“So fucking stressed about book three, Sig,” he said, breathing hard as her mouth reached the top of his joggers.

“You must stop pressuring me like this…oh fuck-” he swallowed, watching her dark eyes look up at him from under her brow as she hooked her fingers into the sides of the waistband.

He lifted his hips, and as she slid them down, he put his hand on the back of her head.  She smirked up at him, batting her long lashes, the heavy black mascara thick enough to barely obstruct her view of his open mouth and slight jutting out of his chin.  He was looking at her, but he wasn’t.

“Still far up in the clou-” she stopped, eyes rolling at the slurred mess of non-words, then licked her teeth and tried again, carefully enunciating “-in… the… clouDS.”

Saying nothing, he blinked at her.  It was such a blank, dead-eyed, unfeeling stare- a visual manifestation of the phrase ‘silent as the grave’.  And speaking of graves, she had just dug her own.  Releasing his hold on her neck, he bent down and grabbed his joggers, yanking them up his legs as he stood back up.

Heart sinking, stomach twisting, hands shaking, she watched him look around for his shirt.

“Loki, I didn’t…I’m s-”

“I’m going to sleep at my place tonight,” he spoke flatly, cutting her off as he grabbed his shirt once he spotted it.

Her eyes blew wide, and not only her hands, but her entire body started shaking.  Maybe her blood sugar was crashing from the alcohol.  Maybe she was dehydrated.  Or maybe she was just terrified of him walking out her door and not coming back.

“Clearly my actual bodily presence here with you will not suffice,” he said, lacing up his gleaming white, un-scuffed, Adidas court sneakers, “and since that is all I am able to give to you for perfectly acceptable reasons that I have already explained several times, I am going home so as to spare you from feeling like I am half-assing sex things with you.  You’re piss drunk anyway, and I don’t want to fuck if you aren’t all there-” he tapped his temple “-either.”

Glaring at her, he stood up, grabbed his MacBook, shoved it in his bag, and slung the thing over his shoulder.  Eyes on the floor, she reached up to wipe away the teardrops clinging to her lashes as her door swung open and slammed again, his footsteps on the other side of the wall disappearing down the stairs.  Her stomach turned over, the wretched sensation washing over her so abruptly that she barely had time to get to her commode.

She flushed away the remnants and yanked a good bit of toilet paper off the roll to clean herself up.  She flushed those too and closed the lid.  Heaving sobs shook her body, and she laid her head on her arms.  Loki hadn’t even given her a courteous ‘I’ll text you when I get there’ or ‘I’ll call you tomorrow’ or anything comforting at all.

This was…this was not good.  Things were falling apart.  The center was not holding.  Their perfect August binary star orbit was losing balance, spinning out of control and too close into a September death spiral.  She should have known.  She should have fucking known Loki would break her heart eventually.  She never should have let her guard down.  God, no one should allow themselves to fall in this deep with another person.  Ever.  

Nothing lasts forever.  She was not his forever dream girl.  She was just a dopamine-kick with a two year expiration date used to write a bestselling book, wasn’t she.  That’s why he was so goddamn frustrated lately.  His muse wasn’t giving him the rush anymore.  His tolerance was too high now.  That’s all she’d been- a helluva drug.  For a time.  Now she wasn’t even that.  She was cut with 90% flour- subpar shit that wouldn’t even give a first-time user a buzz.  Sinking to the cold floor tiles, she curled in on herself and cried until she fell asleep. 

NEW YEAR SAME HABIT CONTINUES IN CHAPTER ELEVEN: DO NOT GO GENTLY (RUN WEST, BOY)

Visit the New Year Same Habit main page HERE.

Chapter links: ¹ We’re Just Strangers ² Hello, My Name is Loki ³ A Helluva Drug ⁴ Written in the Dying Stars ⁵ This Helen of Troy (Worth Drowning For) ⁶ STARBOY INTERLUDE ⁷ Live Fast, Die Right (Crashing Hard) ⁸ It’s Called “Being Present” (Hit the Gas) ⁹ Burn it to the Ground, Sig. (Just Don’t Burn Me) ¹⁰ Hotel Hell, Closing Bell ¹¹ Do Not Go Gently (Run West, Boy) ¹² Happy New Year, Love.

CHAPTER TEN THEME SONGS:

“Never Let You“ by Kiiara (for Loki)

“Lie“ by Sasha Sloan (for Sig)

“Oh Jen, This is such a great chapter, but such a bad ending!! I hate it when they fight, but Sigyn shouldn’t have to be drunk, Loki obvious hates that, with good reason may I add. Also, the photos of Tom Hiddleston as Loki on his Instagram are beautiful, such a handsome man!!! I love this story so much. I’ll be so sad when it’s over.”

-Maïté, on CH 10 “Hotel Hell, Closing Bell” (AO3)

“Their pain is truly heart wrenching.”

-Ferbette, on CH 10 “Hotel Hell, Closing Bell” (AO3)

NEW YEAR SAME HABIT CONTINUES IN CHAPTER NINE: BURN IT TO THE GROUND, SIG. (JUST DON’T BURN ME)

Visit the New Year Same Habit main page HERE.

Chapter links: ¹ We’re Just Strangers ² Hello, My Name is Loki ³ A Helluva Drug ⁴ Written in the Dying Stars ⁵ This Helen of Troy (Worth Drowning For) ⁶ STARBOY INTERLUDE ⁷ Live Fast, Die Right (Crashing Hard) ⁸ It’s Called “Being Present” (Hit the Gas) ⁹ Burn it to the Ground, Sig. (Just Don’t Burn Me) ¹⁰ Hotel Hell, Closing Bell ¹¹ Do Not Go Gently (Run West, Boy) ¹² Happy New Year, Love.

CHAPTER EIGHT FEATURED MUSIC:

“Suspicious Minds” by Elvis Presley

THEME SONGS:

“Take it Back” by Darci ft. OZZIE (for Loki)

“Kids on the Street” by Of Verona (for Sig)

“Ouch, man, just ouch!! I get why Sig couldn’t read more than page 33 but come on!!! And Loki doesn’t even know it’s because she read his book, noooooo!!!! Also a great scene for the end, it is always great to read things like Darcy being a bit shitty, it is really realistic! We tend sometimes to idealize those characters and forget to give them flaws, not in this case!”

-Bullla, on CH 8 “It’s Called ‘Being Present’ (Hit the Gas)” (AO3)

“I actually really enjoy going back and forth in time. You slowly see how they got where they are. And Sigyn…I have been in that same headspace before and it sucks. I think they are both gonna have to learn to love themselves before they can truly be happy.”

-Mischief76, on CH 8 “It’s Called ‘Being Present’ (Hit the Gas)” (AO3)

“There is so much in this chapter, yet I keep coming back to “certifiably moody”. That just describes Loki perfectly.”

-Ferbette, on CH 8 “It’s Called ‘Being Present’ (Hit the Gas)” (AO3)