Loki had taken the news surprisingly well, all things considered.
As soon as Greg had left to meet up with friends in the hotel bar, Darcy had left the room, only to find the God of Mischief loitering in the hallway outside.
Whether or not he had been listening at the door, she couldn't tell, but his controlled reaction led her to believe that he already knew about Greg's blackmailing tactics.
"I'm so fucking angry!" She fumed, roughly pulling the little black dress she had worn the previous night, from one of her bags. "You've no idea how much I wanna tell him where to shove his fucking tickets, and his money! But it probably wouldn't fit, 'cause there'd be no room left up his ass with his fat head already being there!"
"Believe me, I share your annoyance." He replied coolly, a distinct air of indifference in his voice. "However, regrettably you must refrain. We still need his assistance."
Darcy stilled abruptly and closed her eyes in a desperate bid to calm her rising temper. She knew Loki was right of course, but that didn't make it any easier.
Greg was a controlling, manipulative asshole. The thought of having to play along with his little charade made her furious.
But Loki was right. She had to suck it up, if they were going to get back to New York.
"The things I do for you." She grumbled, clasping a hand to her chest in a dramatic gesture of allegiance and martyrdom.
"Granted, the situation is extremely vexatious. But if you look at it logically.....a few hours spent in the company of his companions is a relatively small sacrifice." Loki reasoned, as he paced the room in his usual manner when agitated.
Taking her dress, Darcy made her way into the bathroom to get changed, without saying a word.
She wasn't angry at Loki. He was being surprisingly levelheaded. Which ought to have been a relief. So she wasn't quite sure why she found his willingness to comply with Greg's irrational demands, so irritating.
She changed into her dress, feeling dread gathering deep in the pit of her stomach. Keeping her black bra on for the sake of her modesty (the lace, as she had found, was not only very revealing but also potentially hazardous) Greg would not like the dress, she knew that much, and she didn't give a damn for his opinion.
But it was a wedding reception. And she didn't want to draw too much attention to herself, by wearing something so risqué and flashing so much cleavage.
"This doesn't look right." She complained, as she returned to the room, fiddling with the cord that held her dress together. "You can see my bra!"
Loki turned, casting a glance over her in quick assessment. "Then why wear it? You didn't last night."
She huffed impatiently. "That was different. We were out-out. This is a wedding party. I can't have my boobs on display."
"Can you not wear something else then?" He suggested, almost disinterestedly.
"No. I've only got jeans, trousers, a sweater. My suede skirt....but none of that is appropriate for this type of party."
He rolled his eyes, not bothering to mask his exasperation. "What does it matter? They're not even your acquaintances."
"It still matters because I'm not giving that asshat the satisfaction of seeing me look shabby."
"You're being ridiculous--"
"Oh am I?" She snapped. "You would think that. I wouldn't expect you to get it."
He watched her curiously, as she stomped across the room to retrieve her ankle boots. Darcy was aware of his scrutinising gaze on her, which only added to her irritation.
"Darcy, is it possible that you are premenstrual?"
She whirled around, eyes wide and filled with indignation. "What?"
He approached her slowly, no evident sign of sarcasm in his voice. "I'm merely making an observation. I am aware that many women experience feelings like irritability, anger, and mood swings in the days before menstruation--"
"Oh my God! I can't believe we're having this conversation!" She gasped. "What is wrong with you?"
"What's the problem? I'm trying to be a supportive boyfriend." He stated flatly.
"Well stop it. That's not the kind of support I need right now. I am not premenstrual for your information! I'm pissed off about this whole thing, don't you get it?"
"I understand." He said calmly. "As am I. So do not mistake my compliance for apathy."
"I'm not. I just....oh forget it. I just wanted to look classy, that's all. To really stick it to Greg. But it's petty, I know."
Darcy sat on the end of the bed and pulled her boots on in silence.
The last thing she wanted was to argue with Loki. His slightly clinical habit of analysing things logically was just his way, and whilst that made him appear emotionally detached at times, she shouldn't hold a grudge against him for it.
"Perhaps then, I can be of some assistance in a more practical way." He spoke suddenly.
She looked up to see him towering above her, and he urged her to stand.
Intrigued, she complied.
"Look, you don't have to assist with anything. I'm just being a grouchy bitch because..."
Her words dissolved as he waved a large hand about her person, and the familiar golden shimmering glow of his magic enveloped her.
Blinking, she stared down at herself in awe.
The illusion he'd cast had transformed her black dress into a classy, 50's style wiggle dress. It had the cutest capped sleeves, square neckline, and the skirt was pinched-in at the waist by a thin belt -- accentuating her curvaceous figure.
And the colour.
The colour of the material, was simply stunning and otherworldly.
Much like a peacocks feathers, it was iridescent blues and greens with a pearlescent effect, so that it reflected a different hue depending on the viewing angle.
"Oh. My. God." She breathed, doing a little twirl.
"Is that a positive response?" He asked warily. "You do so much 'oh my God-ing' I confess it becomes rather confusing."
"It's definitely a good 'Oh my God' this time." She beamed, and threw her arms around him unceremoniously, pulling him into an unexpected hug. "You always seem to know how to make things better. Which is weird."
He returned her embrace, smiling into her hair. "And why is it so weird?"
"I dunno. I guess it's 'cause I never expected to see this side to you. And I wasn't prepared for it."
He pulled back slightly so that he could look at her, and she him. "You are the most confusing, yet delightful creature."
Darcy pulled a face. "I won't be so delightful if you call me 'creature' again." She warned jokingly. "But thank you, you're amazing."
She wasn't sure if she'd imagined it, but she could've sworn his chest swelled with pride. He wasn't used to positive feedback or compliments, that much was obvious. In spite of his enormous ego. And she took pleasure in seeing how pleased he was, having someone finally recognise his talents.
"Won't this magic interfere with your double though?" She asked, growing concerned. "I'm seriously starting to worry about that. What if it's dispersed by now? It's been so long--"
"There's no need for you to concern yourself with that." He said dismissively. "Let's just focus on remaining pragmatic for now. And get through this damn soirée."
******************
Getting through the 'damn soirée' -- as Loki had so eloquently put it -- proved to be even more testing than Darcy had anticipated.
The evening had been a less than successful night so far.
To begin with, there was a decidedly chilly air, as they entered the hotel function room and located Greg.
He regarded Darcy with a filthy look, but had insisted on clasping a large arm around her, as he steered her around the room to 'circulate' -- which basically meant being introduced to his colleagues and friends -- but he made her feel like an exhibit that was being paraded around for his own benefit.
Loki had been begrudgingly deposited on a seat at a round table over in a far corner, which appeared to be the designated place for the less important guests. This included distant relatives, friends of friends, and mostly single people who had failed to bag themselves a date for the occasion.
Darcy was quickly growing weary of all the boring small talk she was obliged to engage in, and she longed to retreat to the table where Loki was.
But no such luck.
After 'circulating' the room several times (and Darcy complaining to Greg that they'd been around more times than a breakdancer) they finally took their seats, which were conveniently on the next table along.
"I can't leave Loki abandoned there by himself. He doesn't know anybody." She pointed out, fairly.
But Greg was unmoved.
"He's a big boy. I'm sure he'll survive. But don't be saying his name so loud. I don't want anyone to know who he is."
Darcy was just about to protest, when they were suddenly joined by a statuesque blonde woman, who put Darcy in mind of some sort of Amazonian Goddess.
She stood -- in her heels -- easily at around the 5' 11" mark, but her height merely accentuated her elegance. And she was extraordinarily pretty. All fresh faced, flaxen-haired wholesomeness, but with a killer body. Like one of those girls from a shower gel commercial.
"Hi Greg." She chirped, in a sing-song sort of voice. Then she turned to Darcy and smiled disarmingly sweetly. "You must be Darcy? I love the dress! Who's it by?"
Taken aback, Darcy returned the smile, but was at a loss. Never having owned a designer dress in all her life. A lot of her party dresses were lucky finds in thrift shops.
"Oh, hi. Yeah...um thanks. It's a....limited edition. It was a gift from a friend."
"Well it's gorgeous. I'm Jem, by the way. I work with most of these guys." She swept an elegant hand in the general direction of the other guests seated around the table. "Greg tells me you work for S.H.I.E.L.D? That must be so exciting!"
Darcy gave a wry smile, noticing Greg's warning look. Which she promptly chose to ignore. "Yeah, you could say that. It definitely isn't boring, that's for sure."
Jem's large blue eyes rounded in awe. "Wow. What's it like working with the Avengers? What do you do?"
"Darcy just works in admin." Greg interrupted rudely. "It's all pretty mundane stuff, right Darcy? Handling Tony Stark's dry cleaning. That kind of thing."
"Actually, I'm an emergency dispatcher." Darcy announced, defiantly, revelling in Greg's irritation at her lie. "I take calls when there's a threat to national security, and contact whoever I think is best suited to the job. You know, Captain America, or the Black Widow."
"Oh wow! That's amazing!" Jem exclaimed, her growing interest and excitement riling Greg all the more. "So like, when that alien army invaded New York--"
"Darcy didn't work at Stark Tower at that time." Greg broke in, hastily. "Now I'm going to get a proper drink from the bar. Do you want one, Jem?"
She shook her head, and held up the glass of wine she already had in her hand. "No thanks, hon. I'm good. Anyway, I'll leave you guys to it. But I'd love to catch up with you later and chat some more."
"Yeah, that'd be fun." Darcy smirked, deliberately shooting Greg a knowing-look as he stood, and headed off across the room.
Darcy turned slightly in her seat, to glance at Loki. She inadvertently caught his eye, and to her immense surprise he flashed a secretive smile, and winked at her.
Unable to stop herself from smiling back at him dreamily, she momentarily forgot that Jem was still standing by the table.
"Do you know him?" She asked unexpectedly, looking at Loki in that lustful way Darcy recognised women do when they're attracted to a guy. "I noticed him sitting by himself. Is he here alone?"
Darcy swallowed. "Oh, him? Yeah.....he's a friend from work."
"Really? Hm. He's very good looking. Do you think maybe you could introduce us?"
Oh God, no.
Darcy felt her stomach drop so violently it made her feel queasy.
The unreasonable knee-jerk reaction was to proclaim "Hands off, bitch!"
But she didn't. Obviously. For numerous reasons.
Luckily, just then a man called Matt, who was sitting on Darcy's left, turned to her and asked if she wanted a drink. Which was more than what Greg had done. So Darcy quickly accepted, even though the thought of drinking alcohol made her want to throw up in her mouth. But this distraction was a good enough excuse to pretend she hadn't heard Jem's request.
Matt poured the last remnants of a bottle of wine into a glass and handed it to her, and when she turned back, Jem had moved on and was talking to one of the bridesmaids.
Sheesh. That could have been monumentally awkward.
Quelling the nauseous feeling in her gut, she chatted with the other people around the table until Greg returned from the bar.
The hotel staff were beginning to clear the tables and arrange the room into one that would be suitable for dancing in, to the band that had just arrived and were currently unpacking their instruments up on the stage.
It was beyond infuriating having to endure Greg keep pawing her, as he droned on endlessly about his town planning studies to the other guests. Whether or not he was doing this to keep up the pretence that they were together, or just to piss her off, Darcy couldn't be sure, but having him repeatedly tweak her shoulders, and pull her into him, was seriously starting to get on her nerves.
As if his unwanted tactile gestures weren't bad enough, she was having to put up with him becoming increasingly physically demonstrative and loud. Which could only mean that he was getting drunk. And Greg was even more obnoxious when drunk.
She was just about to bang her head on the white tablecloth in front of her, when suddenly the tall, dark figure of Loki appeared next to her.
"Having fun?" He leaned down, resting an arm on the back of her chair as he whispered close to her ear.
"Ugh, please. Just kill me now. I would forgive you. It would be a mercy killing." She replied dryly, having to raise her voice due to the band starting-up.
"He's being a little too familiar." Loki observed. "I don't like it."
"Neither do I. Trust me. I'd happily strangle either him or myself right now. Whichever might bring a faster end to my misery."
He eyed her steadily, with a look of cynical bemusement. "I didn't expect this masquerade to involve so much physical contact. He needs to keep his hands to himself."
"Do you want something?" Greg swivelled in his seat suddenly, and glared up at Loki.
The tension around the two men seemed to crackle in the air, and Darcy found herself holding her breath.
Loki never took his eyes off Greg, and maybe it was a trick of the shadows in the softly lit room, but his face looked unusually grim.
"Yes. I want you to stop mauling Darcy. She isn't a possession."
Greg's almond eyes bulged. "What did you just say?"
Loki set his teeth, the muscles around his jaw flexing with suppressed rage. "Are you hearing impaired as well as ignorant and stupid?"
The air stopped crackling, and disappeared altogether, sucked out of the atmosphere. Darcy could feel the pressure mounting. The tension coming to boiling point,
"Pragmatic, L." Darcy reminded Loki hastily.
Because as much as she would've liked to give Greg a high-five in the face with a chair, they couldn't afford to jeopardise their ticket home.
Loki visibly stiffened, and with great effort, swallowed his annoyance. "Very well."
His lips quirked in a twisted, bitter smile. "On this occasion, you are fortunate, Gregory, that circumstances force me to be magnanimous."
Greg scowled, but Loki was already striding away.
"What the hell is going on here, Darcy?"
Picking up her glass, she purposely sipped her wine casually.
"Who the hell does he think he is?" Greg blustered on.
Darcy smiled at her ex sourly. "The God of Mischief. Rightful king of Jotunheim....ooh, and a prince of Asgard. That's who he is."
Greg looked slightly deflated then, like a balloon that had lost all air and heat.
Picking up his own glass, he took a big gulp of of his drink, and Darcy zoned-out, becoming temporarily lost in her own thoughts.
Loki had been polite and courteous, but notably distant. She couldn't help but noticing the subtle shift in his body language when he had been leaning over her.
Perhaps it was just her imagination, or due to his frustration. But she hoped that he wasn't resenting her for any of this.
It was then she looked across to Loki's table, and saw him standing in the corner talking to a woman. The woman laughed, and when she tossed her cascade of golden hair over her shoulder, Darcy's fears were confirmed when she saw it was Jem.
Her heart Jack-knifed painfully in her chest, as he pulled out a chair for Jem, and then sat himself down next to her. Their heads inclined closer together, their body language insinuating they were making more than just polite chit-chat.
Or perhaps it was due to the loudness of the music? That was a perfectly reasonable explanation, but still a little nausea rose in Darcy's throat, and she swallowed it quickly.
Well, Loki was his own person, he could talk to whoever he wished and it had nothing to do with her really. She didn't own him.
Still, she felt an odd twinge in her stomach. A stab of irrational jealously.
Averting her gaze, she reached for her wine again, and tried to look engrossed by what the other people at the table were saying, but she couldn't concentrate, as a huge knot began to form in her gut.
She tried not to watch Loki too much for the rest of the evening. But Darcy couldn't help herself. Because every time she glanced in his direction, she saw Jem somewhere nearby. Hovering like a greedy bee around a honey pot.
What on earth were they talking about? She wondered. As she continued to stare daggers at the oblivious, and innocent, Jem, in her floaty, slinky dress. Which was undeniably feminine and accentuated her enviably willowy figure and flat stomach. Not to mention the way it showed off her pert chest and toned upper arms.
The more Darcy looked at her the more inadequate she felt.
In comparison, she was too short, too brunette, too curvy. Her makeup was too overdone, with her smoky eyes and red lipstick, she realised then how it was too heavy and not natural at all.
Jem, with her hair like spun-gold, and healthy tan, looked like a softer, fresher version of Madonna.
Not at all the type of woman Darcy had ever aspired to be.
She had her own style, but now she was wondering how she could ever compete with the likes of someone like Jem.
There could be no comparison.
Her head came just above Loki's shoulder. Whereas Darcy's eye line was always level with his chest, and she was stricken with the blindingly obvious fact, that aesthetically, they made an undeniably stunning couple, which seemed much better physically suited.
The band had been playing various Motown hits, and were now halfway through a catchy rendition of "I Can't Help Myself" by the Four Tops.
Darcy had never really paid much attention to the lyrics before, but as her gaze lingered on Loki, she found herself listening intently.
Shit. She really had it bad.
Perhaps noticing the rather bilious shade of green she must've turned, Greg affixed her with a hard, accusatory stare.
"Why don't you just go to him? It's obvious you want to."
Darcy blinked in response, shocked by his bluntness.
Yeah, he was most definitely drunk.
"What are you talking about?" She looked to where Loki and Jem were now standing, their bodies close together as they talked animatedly, laughing at some private joke.
Ugh.
The knot tightened in her stomach.
"Don't play dumb with me, Darcy. I can see what's going on. I would've thought even you would have more sense though. To be suckered-in by the likes of him, it's laughable. He's so weaselly, and greasy. Is it because he's supposedly a God and all that? Is that what turns you on?"
"He is not weaselly or greasy! And it isn't like that." She hissed defensively.
"What is it like then? You've been unable to take your eyes off each other all night. I'm not an idiot. Have you been sleeping with him?"
"No I haven't!"
"Do you love him?" Greg demanded.
Darcy raised her chin, glowering at him defiantly. "Even if I did, it has nothing to do with you."
Greg craned his neck, and Darcy followed his gaze, which had located the God of Mischief and the new fangirl he'd acquired.
They were holding hands now for fucks sake. Well, they were at arms length, as Jem spun around drunkenly to the music, and Loki chivalrously attempted to keep her upright - but they were still touching each other.
"Looks like he's keeping himself entertained well enough without you." Greg remarked, unpleasantly. "Which reminds me...has he seen you naked yet?"
Darcy folded her arms, prickling all over with fury. "What the hell sort of question is that?"
"You know exactly what I mean." Greg fired back. "If he hasn't, he might not like what he sees. Have you thought about that? How it will feel when he rejects you?"
Darcy sat motionless, incapable of any movement. The weight of her sadness, anchoring her to the chair. Her face was no doubt a complete rictus of dismay.
Admittedly, at first she hadn't stopped to consider it in all her euphoria. And she'd somehow managed to force it to the back of her mind, but now it was back again. Like a ghost that refused to be exorcised.
"No, I thought not." Greg said, triumphantly.
And Darcy silently cursed him for sowing the seeds of doubt in her mind.
But in all fairness, the doubt was already there, and had been since she'd become more intimately involved with a God.
Trying not to be distracted by the way Jem was still simpering over Loki, Darcy became lost now to bitterness and resentful thoughts. Battling with feelings she'd never encountered before.
Unexpected, uncalled-for tears started to well up in her large blue eyes. She blinked them away, and breathed deeply.
"Go on then, go to him." Greg kept on, sounding much like a broken record. "Go to the fucking moon for all I care."
That, made her decision all the more easier for her to make.
Having had just about enough now, Darcy leaned forwards and brought her face close to his, and it took every ounce of self-control she possessed to keep herself from punching him squarely on the nose, or throwing her drink in his face.
In the past, she would've acted on impulse without thought. But since being left in charge of Loki, she was learning to be more self-disciplined.
"You know what? I will. Fuck you, Greg!" She snarled, rising to her feet, pushing her chair back abruptly. "Which, by the way, I'm glad I'll never have to do again. Because you're shit in bed!"
Greg's mouth literally fell open, and ignoring the stares she was attracting from the other guests at the table, Darcy marched purposely off in Loki's direction.
Jem had seemingly been to the bar, and was holding a drink in each hand -- presumably for herself and Loki.
The rest of the guests at their table had all gathered in the centre of the room, dancing along to the music -- which at least meant Darcy wouldn't have to make too much of a scene -- not that she gave a damn in that moment, because by the time she found herself standing over Loki, who was leaning back in his seat, one long leg resting negligently at ease on an empty chair, her skin was practically blistering with envy.
"Nobody puts Loki in a corner." Darcy proclaimed, for want of something better to say, as she manoeuvred herself passed a surprised-looking Jem. "I need a word with you, space boy. That is, if I'm not interrupting anything?"
Loki's fingers curled around the stem of his empty wineglass, as he stared up at her questioningly, but remained comically silent.
Without saying another word, Darcy took the glass from him, slammed it down on the table, and grasped hold of the front of his shirt in an attempt to haul him out of his seat.
He complied without protest, and allowed her to lead him away, across the room through the crowd of guests, toward some stairs which led outside onto a terrace.
Due to the cold night air, the outdoor area was conveniently deserted. So at least they didn't have an audience.
"I do wish you'd be a little more delicate with my attire." Loki grumbled with mild annoyance, as he smoothed down his slightly crumpled shirt.
"Really? You're complaining about your shirt? Now? As if it fucking matters?"
"Oh dear. What troubles you, earth girl?" He arched a dark brow quizzically.
"What troubles me? You really need to ask? Well, first of all I've had to put up with Greg's snyde remarks and bullshit all night, which by the way, I've had enough of....so I think I might've blown everything. Shit. I probably have." She dragged her hair through her hands, and blew out her cheeks.
"What happened?"
"We argued. He was getting to me. Deliberately trying to push my buttons, and I let him."
Loki tilted his head to one side, looking thoughtful. "What did you quarrel about?"
She gave a watery half-smile. "You, obviously. He enjoyed pointing out that you were cozying up to that Jem."
His expression remained stoical. "Who? Oh, are you referring to Jemima?" A small smile played upon his lips. "I would scarcely describe it as 'cozying-up'. In actual fact I found her company rather tiresome. I was merely putting up with her for something to do."
The knot in Darcy's gut immediately loosened.
"Really?"
"Yes. Admittedly, she made it quite clear that she had designs on me, but I think she got the message I wasn't interested when I refused to dance with her." His beautiful eyes held hers, the visible tenderness in them, unmistakable. "I only dance with one mortal woman."
The rush of relief she felt at his words, bordered on euphoria. As she reached over to hug Loki and put her arms around him, in reply she felt his own strong arms slowly wrap themselves around her. He felt warm and solid. She closed her eyes, and suddenly found herself battling the impulsive urge to tell him she loved him.
He spoke again, which fortunately saved her from saying something she shouldn't.
It was much too soon anyway. Surely.
"Darcy, you do surprise me. I wouldn't have thought you the jealous type."
She sighed wearily, feeling her face burn with embarrassment. "Neither would I, normally. But you're not like any other guy I've ever been involved with, Loki." She admitted in a small voice, and was thankful for not having to look at him. "And she's everything I'm not. Which Greg took great pleasure in pointing out to me."
She felt him go rigid, his large hands clasping her gently by the shoulders as he eased her away so that he could hold her at arms length, and survey her fully.
"That man, is a covert passive-aggressive narcissist."
Darcy absently chewed her bottom lip, touched by the visible concern apparent on Loki's face. "I know. I see it now. But he really knew how to chip away at my self confidence."
"Which is precisely what they do." He pulled her back into him, and sweetly kissed the top of her head. "You're a strong, independent, beautiful, intelligent woman. Believe that. If you're still in any doubt, you ought to remember that a prince of Asgard doesn't share his affections lightly."
She laughed, easing her body closer into his, and rested her head against his broad chest. Quite forgetting where they were, they held onto each other longer than they should have, as suddenly Greg's angry, alcohol-fuelled voice came from directly behind them.
"Are you purposely trying to make a fool of me in front of my friends? My work colleagues?"
Instantly, Loki and Darcy pulled themselves away from each other.
"No, you do a fine job of that all by yourself." Darcy hurled at him.
Greg's face was a picture. A complete mask of indignation, which would've made Darcy laugh under different circumstances.
"I suppose you're still going to say 'this isn't what you think.'" He reached out to place a sturdy hand on Loki's shoulder.
"I 'think' you'd better take your hands off me."
"Oh? You don't like that, huh?" Greg taunted, his inebriated state having given him false courage, as he began poking Loki in the shoulder, in what looked like an extremely irritating manner.
"Touch me again, and you'll see how much I don't like it!" Loki ground out, his eyes glowing white-hot with fury.
Greg's hand fell away quickly. "Okay, buddy." He slurred drunkenly.
This appeared to anger Loki even more. "And I am most certainly not your 'buddy'."
Ignoring Loki, Greg grabbed Darcy by the wrist. "Come on we're going in. We'll talk about this inside" He hissed in her ear, as he began to frogmarch her away from Loki.
"Greg, stop it! You're behaving like a complete jerk!" She wriggled beneath his tight grip.
"You'd better do as the lady asks." Loki said sternly, following them.
Greg stopped abruptly. "Or what?" It was his turn to look immensely angry then.
"Just do as she asks. Now. I won't ask you again."
"And I'll ask YOU again. Or what?"
Loki took a step toward him, and -- like the coward he was -- immediately loosened the hold he had on Darcy's wrist, which enabled her to pull free.
"Are you alright?" Loki asked, as she rejoined him, rubbing her wrist. "Did he hurt you?"
Darcy waved a dismissive hand. "No. It's just my tattoo, it's still a bit sore."
"Tattoo? What tattoo? Did you get another tattoo?" Greg blustered.
Darcy rolled her eyes, and turned instead to Loki. "Please, please just let it go, L. If you don't you could get into so much trouble, and he really isn't worth it."
Loki drew in a breath, his countenance remaining impressively calm. But his aura radiated a long-suppressed rage, and his eyes flashed with a look of something deadly. Something far more sinister than mere devilry, and Darcy found herself genuinely fearful for her ex's safety.
"Hey, don't ignore me both of you. Especially YOU!" Greg persisted, boldly pushing Loki's shoulder, and Darcy held her breath.
"Don't do that." Loki warned, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Come, Darcy. I'll escort you back inside." He placed his arms around her shoulders.
"You're not taking her anywhere. Not now. Not ever!"
"And just how do you propose to try and stop me?" Loki turned, grinning at him savagely.
Emboldened by booze, Greg lunged at him with the full force of his large body, but the ever-stealthy trickster sidestepped him, so he went crashing to the ground.
"Is that the best you've got?" Loki threw him a pitying look, as he lay sprawled across the floor. "How pathetic."
"Pathetic?" Greg roared, flailing to sit up. "You think you're so classy don't you? Sneering at everybody? Well I'll tell you what's pathetic....YOU, falling for someone like Darcy." He laughed contemptuously, rolling himself onto his knees with great effort.
He was attempting to clamber to his feet, when two hands came from behind, grasping him roughly by the scruff of the neck, hoisting him off the ground.
"I must interrupt you." Loki's voice snarled in his ear. "I never sneer."
Startled, Greg tried to turn round, but in one lightning movement, Loki's hands then closed in a flash around his throat, tightening suffocatingly. He clawed at them, struggling violently.
"And as for Darcy..." Loki continued, oblivious to Greg's struggling. ".....you're not even fit to breath the same air as she does!"
"Loki don't! Please!" Darcy found herself begging.
This wasn't simply about Greg. Her concern extended far beyond that. If Loki were to kill him, even accidentally, then he would be destined to spend the rest of his days in a jail cell.
At first it appeared Loki had not heard her, but she beseechingly placed her small hand oh his arm. The contact was enough to break through the red mist of vengeance which seemed to be clouding his vision as well as his judgment, and she saw his temper waver.
"I shan't strangle you this time." He relented. "But I'm afraid it will have to be that pond, which is exactly where you belong.....with all the other pond scum!"
The grip left Greg's throat, and before he could turn, Loki thrust him towards the edge of the terrace. A sharp shove between his shoulder blades made him lose his balance. The parapet was too low to save him. Greg fell over it and landed in the large pond that was situated a few feet below them, with an almighty splash. His large frame narrowly avoiding the ornate fountain.
Darcy peered over the edge, her emotions a conflicting and confusing mixture of amusement and dread. Okay, so all that Greg had suffered was a bruised ego, and he needed to be thankful for that.
But such a spectacle was bound to draw attention now, and Darcy had to be sure that he wasn't going to spout his mouth off about Loki. That might attract the interest of unwanted parties, such as the authorities.
"I need to speak to him." Darcy announced, without further hesitation.
She made a dash for the door which led back inside, and this time it was Loki who caught her by the arm.
"Leave him. Why would you go to him?"
"To save your ass! He's drunk, he might start blabbing about being assaulted by the God of Mischief--"
"And they'll think him mad." Loki said evenly, his brow furrowed. "Or they'll blame it on him being drunk. Leave him. He is no longer your concern."
Darcy extricated herself from his grasp. "No he isn't, but YOU are. How do we get back without him? Maybe I can still fix this, you've gotta let me try!"
With that, she turned and fled, making her way through the room, back down the stairs, and out of the door which led to the gardened area at the rear of the hotel.
She wobbled in her heels along the gravel pathway, which was lined either side with low hedges. Ahead of her, she could see Greg floundering in the pond. Several people had stopped to gawk, and one man was heading in his direction -- presumably to offer assistance -- prompting Darcy to think fast.
"It's okay, I got this!" She shouted, waving her arms wildly in the air. "He's had a little too much to drink. Got a bit carried away....he always does. Can you believe he jumped off the terrace on a dare? Aah. Crazy."
The helpful guest hesitated, looking unsure. But the other onlookers seemed to buy her story. It elicited entertained laughter from most of the men, and a few knowing groans of sympathy from the women, who were obviously understanding to Darcy's plight. No doubt themselves having had to assist their own partners in the past when they'd gotten a bit overexcitable due to alcohol.
"Are you sure you don't need a hand getting him out? He's a big guy. And a bit unsteady on his feet." The male guest asked, kindly.
Darcy shook her head, plastering on a big, fake smile. "No, honestly I got this. Thanks anyway."
She made her way up to the pond. Greg was struggling to keep his balance as he waded through the water, his shoes sliding on the slippery, algae-covered surface.
"Greg, are you okay? 'D'you need a hand? You kinda look like you could use some help there."
He shot her a harsh look, grumbling nastily under his breath. "I don't want anything from you."
He reached the edge, placing one foot up on the side. He was soaked through, and in spite of everything it took enormous effort on Darcy's part not to laugh.
"Look, don't be so damn stubborn." She extended a hand towards him, as he tottered precariously. "I'm trying to be grown-up about all of this. Why can't you?"
Admitting defeat, he reluctantly took her hand, allowing her to help him step out.
She breathed a small sigh of relief, but it was short lived. As he halted suddenly, his attention having been caught by the tattoo on her wrist.
"What is that?" He demanded, tugging it closer, causing her to almost lose her own balance in the process.
"Ow. Greg! That hurts!" Using her other hand, she tried to wrestle herself free. "You're really hurting me! Let go!"
"When did you get that? What does it mean? Did you get that while we were still together?"
"Take your hands off her!" Loki's smooth voice came fiercely, cutting through the night air like a cold blade.
Greg faltered, Darcy turned her head and was both startled and relieved to suddenly see Loki adjacent to them on the path.
His face was thunderous, but then everything seemed to be happening so quickly, she didn't even have time to think, or stop him.
Once again he seized Greg by the throat, dragging him out of the pond and halfway across the low hedge which separated them.
The splashing of the water caused by Greg's flailing limbs, soaked Loki, as well as catching Darcy, but it wasn't enough to deter the infuriated God, who in one swift movement, lifted him completely off his feet.
Greg's terrified eyes goggled up into blazing aqua ones. He clawed ineffectively at Loki's hands. Speech was choked out of him, as he was shaken to and fro until the teeth rattled in his head.
"Don't you ever, EVER touch her again! Do you understand?" Loki roared.
A moment more he held Darcy's ex in his crushing grip, and then he flung the hapless Greg away from him. He landed with a crashing thud, in an undignified heap on the small lawn, gasping and cowering like a whipped dog.
"I'm.....I'm sorry.." He practically sobbed, but Loki wasn't inclined to listen, as he advanced on him like a snake.
"You will be still more sorry." Swinging his leg, Loki delivered a swift kick to the startled man's ribs.
"Loki, no!" Darcy yelled, against, watching as Greg curled into a ball, groaning and clutching at his side.
"Get up! You're not yet dead." Loki hissed venomously. Reaching down he hauled him to his feet, indifferent to the way his victim trembled and snivelled in his clutches.
"Loki! Loki, enough now!" Darcy cried, running over to try and intervene.
But her pleas fell on deaf ears.
"I am of a mind to kill you." Loki informed Greg, his top lip curling. "But I shall be merciful instead, and teach you a much-needed lesson."
Gripping the fingers of Greg's right hand in his, Loki made a quick twisting motion with his clenched fist. A sickening series of crunching sounds followed, and Greg yelped in pain.
"That....was for touching me, when I repeatedly told you not to!" Loki said with chilling calmness. "You can't prod and poke people with broken fingers." He looked down at Greg, an unnerving, twisted smile quite unlike any Darcy had ever seen before, curling his fine mouth.
"O-okay, Loki....you've taught him a lesson now." She clasped a shaking hand to her mouth in shock, feeling completely overwrought by the severity of the situation. "Just..just let him go. Please."
Loki had either lost it, or was on the verge of losing it.
Or perhaps this was just, him.
The side to him the Avengers were so fearful of.
The wild, untameable God, who was capable of destruction and savageness.
Much like humans were, but far more powerful.
And that was the most unnerving part.
To her horror, Loki completely disregarded her.
Cursing herself for having abandoned her purse on the table back in the function room, she realised in that instant if she had access to the controller, she wouldn't hesitate to use it. If only to get Loki to stop, so he would calm down, and see sense.
He wasn't thinking clearly. He was temporary blinded by his rage.
In one fluid motion he now grasped Greg's wrist and lifted his arm, whilst simultaneously placing a large palm against her hapless ex's elbow, and pushed. The bone cracked, and Greg gave an agonised howl.
"And that....was for touching Darcy, and hurting her! Be thankful I'm not going to punish you for all the other ways you have harmed her. If I did, you wouldn't be leaving here with a full skin!"
Pushing Greg away, Loki brushed his hands together, in a gesture that was infinitely contemptuous. Greg reeled back, gasping and shaking, cradling his limp arm.
Loki's eyes inadvertently met Darcy's, and she stared at him repelled, and unblinking. His expression altered drastically then, as he acknowledged her look of disbelief. Of unveiled horror. As if all affection she had felt for him, was now gone.
They stared back at each other for several moments, until Darcy was compelled to turn her attention to what was unfolding around her. The aftermath of Loki's loss of temper.
The commotion had brought people out into the garden, and quite a crowd had gathered, whilst the trio had been otherwise engaged and oblivious.
Now there were collective gasps, as Greg staggered off back to the hotel, and several onlookers approached to offer him aid.
Without thinking, Darcy hastened after him, still feeling numb with shock.
"Greg, I...."
"Don't." He cut her off, shakily. "You've done enough."
She stood frozen for a moment, feeling chilled to her bones.
This was bad. But she had to focus.
As much as she felt the urge to seek help from a responsible adult, she had to step-up and deal with this.
Loki was her responsibility.
God help her.
She peered out into the sea of guests, searchingly. Their voices fading into insignificance, as she turned around several times in a complete circle, expecting to see Loki's unrelenting face. But she couldn't see him.
He had disappeared. And not, it would seem, by magic.