The God and the Siren (Loki Romance)

Chapter Three

The rest of the night continues splendidly—the conversation, the food, and even the continued music lends itself to a bright, cheerful evening in good company. It may only have been better if I had a tad less wine and a little more water—I should know by now that my stomach never appreciates tonight's ratio of the two. I can feel the nausea settling in little by little as the hours go by.

"You okay, hon?" Pepper asks, noting my perturbed expression across the table.

"I will be." I nod, hooking my jacket on my finger as I stand from the chair. "I'm just going to go outside and breathe for a bit—feeling a little nauseous..."

"Here," she slides a glass of water over to me. "Take this with you, okay?"

"Cheers," I drone sarcastically, taking the glass before turning and walking around the table.

My stride across the living room leads past the chair that Loki's settled into, in a draped fashion, and the coldness is palpable as I step past him. My own face must say it all—'leave me alone.' I'm beyond the point of caring. My stomach isn't having a fun time anymore and neither am I. All I care about is the refreshing wall of cold air that plumes over me across the balcony door, where the sights and sounds of glinting lights and honking cars greet me with a cool welcome.

I let it drain the tension from my body, teaming up with my efforts not to think about doubling over the glass railing. Falling puke from this high up would either evaporate, or kill someone. Definite question of death in this situation, and I can't be certain of either in this moment. Therefore, slow and steady breaths are the answer—one, two...

One, two.....

"Pardon me," says a voice behind me.

I jump, nearly dropping the water as it clicks against the glass railing. I grip it tightly as I pivot toward the sound—toward Loki, who must have strode out here soundlessly, with hands crossed politely behind his back.

"Oh," I sigh, calming my startled breaths. "It's you..." I turn back to the railing. "What's up?"

"The... sky."

My brows shoot up as I stare ahead flatly for a moment, and then roll my eyes back toward him. And in that moment, I couldn't tell which of us looked more absurdly serious—for no fucking reason.

"I came out here to apologize for my behavior."

I arch a brow, snorting at the sharp contrast between the sentiment, and his borderline-constipated facial expression. "Pardon?"

"I've just apologized."

I sigh discontentedly at his still-constipated tone, barely feeling any impulse to honor it with a verbal response. Being rude to someone you don't know is one thing, this dynamic is...something else. An explanation would do more than an apology.

I thin my lips tightly and straighten up from the railing. "Mkay," I say, sipping the glass as I continue staring forward. "Apology accepted. Even though it seems like you've got a problem with me."

"No problem at all," he states matter-of-factly, holding my gaze coolly.

I narrow my eyes at him, and answer tightly. "Okay, good."

Silence hardens around us as I look away, into the wind blowing back strands of my curls.

"I hope you're feeling better." I hear him again in the middle of taking a sip of water, and hold the glass to my lips for a moment. I turn my head back toward him slowly—still standing in the same spot.

"I am..." I pause suspiciously. "Thanks?"

Loki tilts his chin, as if preparing to respond, but pauses the sound of the door being opened behind him. I can see his brother holding it halfway, glancing between us momentarily. "Brother," Thor says. "We're leaving now."

Thor looks between for a moment. Staring. And slowly furrows a brow at the lingering tension in the air. Slowly but surely, he turns back awkwardly when no one answers him—unsurprising for the pair of us, still hacking that tension out here with a knife. Loki has yet to speak or look away from me, as he bobs his head in a farewell gesture.

I watch as he turns and stalks sharply back across the balcony without another word, and follow shortly after—having reached the point in the night to offer up goodbyes. Once inside, a multitude of hugs ensues, and the usual parting pleasantries.

"Thank you so much for coming," I breathe out over Sif's shoulder as I give her a hug near the elevator.

"The pleasure was ours, entirely," she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

Thor and Heimdall welcome me warmly to give them both hugs—and I end up shifting in Loki's general direction upon pulling back. It takes an active effort not to let my smile falter instantly with indecision. His hands are back in his suit pockets, and he glances back at me with an equally neutral expression...at least the aggression is gone.

Too early for hugs? Neither of us seem to know what to do for a moment, and the question plays tug of war in my head for several seconds before I act. On the one hand, he's dished out more rudeness to me collectively as a person these past two days, than I've ever gotten in the entirety of my life.

Execute decision: death by kindness.

I step toward him briskly, lifting myself up onto my toes to match his massive stature in a half-hug. "It was nice seeing you, too...kind of," I add playfully, blowing some loose strands of black hair back over his shoulder.

Save for a slightly arched brow, he seems unaffected when I pull back—if not slightly disgruntled by the sudden affection. Like a psychopath, obviously. And without the courtesy of a grin, or even eye contact, he turns to match the direction of his company.

An awkward silence permeates the air for a moment after the door closes behind them, and then there are three of us left....

One being particularly drowsy—still recovering from the surplus of wine and strange company I've had this night, in equal share.: