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When Everything's Made to be Broken - Chapter 34: Where My Head's Been

When Everything's Made to Be Broken Series (Archive of Our Own) | When Everything's Made to be Broken Masterlist (Tumblr)

Summary: An unexpected message creates a dilemma and disagreement.

Contents: mutual pining idiots: insecurity, jealousy and hubris edition.

Word Count: 3,233

Author’s Note: (see end of chapter)

34. Where My Head's Been

Song: the mood i'm in / jsyk - the Maine

Well I could give you words Tell you where my heads been Hit you where it hurts Say it with my chest and Time it keeps on running out, Keeps on running…

The night ended on the rooftop.

Manhattan surrounded them in every direction, skyscrapers and city lights glistening like jewels under a velvet sky. The hum of the city drifted up from the streets below, woven through with the occasional siren.

The rooftop bar smelled faintly of oak smoke and citrus peel. The firepit at the center sent out slow waves of heat, painting the group—those who’d gone to the gala, plus Julie—in shifting amber light. Ice clinked in glasses, the low murmur of conversation blending with soft jazz from the speakers.

Laughter and easy chatter rippled through the group, a testament to a night gone spectacularly right. They swapped stories about the announcement: Natasha swore she caught one board member nearly choke on his champagne when Theo mentioned the Vital Signs Initiative, while Sam reenacted the way a photographer had tripped over a floral arrangement in his hurry to get a shot of her and Loki emerging from backstage after the speech.

Theo found herself grinning as she told them about the run-in with Chris in the ballroom, the sharp-edged exchange delivered like the punchline to the joke that Chris was. The others wasted no time roasting him—Julie called him “a man-shaped red flag,” while Bucky muttered that Chris probably still got his hair cut at a strip mall barber. All the while, Theo rode the high of it all: the warmth of the firepit, the view of the skyline, the comfort of being surrounded by people who had her back.

Natasha and Bucky were wedged together at one end of the sectional, knees touching, both acting like their cozy proximity was completely normal. Thor and Jane had joined the rooftop crowd too, Thor’s massive hand easily spanning the small of Jane’s back as they leaned into each other with a quiet ease. Sam and Julie kept accidentally bumping knees and grinning about it, and across from them, Pepper was visibly looser after the night’s formalities, her legs draped over Tony’s lap while he absently traced patterns on her ankle. Loki was beside Theo, one arm draped along the back of the outdoor sectional and around her shoulders, stretching his long legs out in front of them like he’d been born in that seat. Steve leaned up against the bar, one leg crossed in front of the other, and listened to the back-and-forth with a look of quiet amusement.

Content, Theo sank deeper into the lounge chair, letting the soft cushions cradle her as she slid her heels off under the table. The cool night air slipped against her toes, carrying the faint tang of oak smoke from the firepit. A trace of someone else’s cologne still clung to her dress—an indistinct mix of spice and clean citrus from the endless cheek-kisses and polite embraces of the evening.

She let herself breathe it in, willing herself to stay in this moment, to let the warm hum of laughter and the skyline’s slow pulse be the only things on her mind. She wondered, distantly, what ripple her announcement was making beyond this rooftop—what the headlines were saying, whether the right people were listening—but she wasn’t ready to chase that thought too far.

Her fingers drifted toward her clutch, more out of idle habit than intent. But the moment she drew her phone free and the screen lit up… She froze.

Chris 1 new message

The name hit like a glass of ice water to the chest. The pleasant looseness in her limbs vanished, replaced by a tight coil low in her stomach. Just hours ago, she’d stood across from him at the gala and told him—in barely polite but unmistakable terms—that she had no interest in speaking to him. She’d seen the flicker of hurt in his face but hadn’t cared. He’d made his choice months ago.

Now…

“Can we talk? I owe you more than a voicemail.”

Her thumb hovered over the screen, her pulse thudding in her ears. That voicemail had been the last time she’d heard his voice, the hollow finality of it still etched in her memory: "I’ve been thinking - I don’t think we should see each other anymore. I realized what it really means to date an Avenger, and– it’s too much. I can’t do it... I’m sorry, Theo. Take care."

She hadn’t understood. Not when the news of their split had broken—not from her, but from his carefully worded PR statement about “differences in priorities.” It had made him sound reasonable, even noble, while she came off as a thrill-seeking liability. By the time she’d even read it, the talking heads had already picked it apart, dissecting her job, her choices, her worth. Tabloids dredged up years-old photos; op-eds speculated she’d “pushed him away”; strangers online declared they would’ve left her too. And through all of it, he’d said nothing—letting the story calcify without lifting a finger to defend her.

Months of that, and now—now—he wanted to talk?

It had to be because of seeing her tonight. But what good would it do? No explanation could rewind those months, erase that humiliation, or give her back the ground she’d lost.

“What is it?”

The question slid in low and smooth, pulling her out of the loop in her head. Loki’s voice—measured, but with a thread beneath it that caught her attention—came from just beside her. She glanced up to find him leaning comfortably against his chair, one arm draped along the back of hers, the firelight catching in his eyes.

“Chris just texted me,” she said, holding her phone just enough for the others to see.

“What did he say?” Wanda tilted her head, lips curling up in a cross between a sneer and a scoff.

Theo’s gaze returned to the glowing screen. “He wants to talk.”

“Isn’t it a bit late for that?” Julie pointed out, eyes narrowing. “You already told him to take a hike tonight.”

“Honestly, I’m almost impressed by his nerve.” Natasha, ever cool, smirked slightly.

Sam leaned back, crossing his arms with a teasing grin. “Maybe he realized he looks like a clown and wants to hand you the balloon himself.”

“I trust you’re not considering giving him the satisfaction of a response?” Loki asked, his tone mild but his eyes sharp.

“I don’t know...” Theo sighed and swirled the ice in her glass. “I can’t think of anything he could say that would change how I feel, but… why reach out now?”

Julie snorted. “Because he saw you’ve moved on and he doesn’t like it. He’s going to try and string you along, girl.”

“Hard to string someone along who doesn’t have feelings for him,” Theo said. “If I agreed, it’d be purely for curiosity’s sake, and on my terms.”

“Your terms?” Loki’s brow arched. “If you grant him the meeting he requests, you’ve already yielded to his terms. You said you wished to move on. Was that false?”

Theo frowned. "I have moved on. That doesn't mean I'm not curious about what he wants, though."

“Could be he wants to clear his conscience,” Natasha tipped her glass toward Theo. “People love to dump their guilt so they can feel lighter.”

“What would be so important he couldn’t just leave a voicemail?” Theo muttered, before dryly adding: “God knows he’s done it before.”

Julie leaned forward, smirking. “Probably figured if he left another voicemail, you’d delete it and he’d be in the clear.”

Theo’s lips twitched with satisfaction. “Well, he was right about that. I would.”

Steve shrugged, then added his ever-reasonable voice in the mix:”At least now if he wants to make a case, it’s face-to-face or nothing.”

All the while, Loki’s gaze stayed fixed on Theo, calm and unreadable.

“Closure is an illusion,” he said quietly. “Do not give him the satisfaction of thinking you require it.”

Theo managed a faint smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The conversation moved on—Julie describing a senator’s tie catching fire on a buffet candle—but Loki didn’t join in. His arm stayed draped along the back of her seat, close enough for her to feel the weight of his presence.

Theo tried to lose herself in the flow of conversation—in Julie’s vivid retelling of the senator’s flaming tie, in the crackle of the firepit, in the way Bucky and Natasha kept exchanging looks like there was a private joke stitched through every sentence. But her phone felt heavier than the glass in her hand, an anchor in her clutch. Every so often, her gaze drifted toward it, as though she might find the answer there.

She kept replaying the last time she’d heard his voice, kept trying to imagine what he might think could undo the months of silence and the mess he’d left in his wake. Part of her told her to ignore him—that the best revenge was a life lived loudly, and without him. Another part whispered that maybe, just maybe, hearing him stumble through an explanation would be satisfying in its own right.

Why had he ended things in a voicemail instead of looking her in the eye? Why had he stayed quiet when the headlines turned cruel? Maybe she wouldn’t get closure, but she could at least get the truth—or whatever version of it he dared to tell.

She told herself it wasn’t about him anymore, that curiosity wasn’t the same as caring. But after her third drink, the line between the two blurred. The laughter around her felt distant, muffled, like she was a beat off from the rhythm. And in that small, quiet space between the jokes and the fire’s hiss, the question slipped in again, sharper now…

What harm could one conversation really do?

As the others laughed loud enough to mask the sound of her phone unlocking, Theo slipped it out again. Her thumbs hovered, then typed:

Fine. Tomorrow. One-on-one. Someplace private, where paps can’t see.

Before she could second-guess herself, she sent it.

No one seemed to notice. Pepper was mid-story about the world’s most unhelpful hotel concierge, Sam was mock-heckling her, Julie was doubled over in silent laughter, and Thor was clinking his glass with Jane’s in some private toast. The firelight danced over smiles and half-empty glasses, the air threaded with warmth and ease.

But beside her, Loki had gone still. His arm was no longer resting behind her shoulders, the space where he’d been a moment ago now cool against her back. He didn’t look away, didn’t look irritated; just unreadable, his expression smoothed into something measured and remote, as though a door had closed without a sound. The others kept laughing, unaware that anything had shifted at all.

Theo put her phone away and took another sip of her drink, the firepit’s heat suddenly feeling very far away.

I don’t wish you the worst Of all of my intentions Just don’t think you’re worth A moment of attention Find it keeps on running out, keeps on running, running, running…

Theo noticed the moment Loki slipped away: vanishing into the shadows, glass left on the table without a word, the subtle scrape of his chair was swallowed by the rooftop’s murmur.

Around her, the laughter and easy chatter continued, mostly undisturbed. Natasha and Bucky exchanged a few quiet words, their heads close as if sharing secrets; Julie was mid-story with Sam, animated and grinning, while Pepper leaned comfortably into Tony’s side, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his thigh. Only Thor’s eyes flicked toward Loki’s retreat, narrowing slightly with a crease of concern, before he shifted his weight and placed a steadying hand on the small of Jane’s back. The rest of the group seemed oblivious to the tension that had just slipped away with Loki.

Theo initially stood up just to stretch her legs, but her feet carried her toward the far edge of the rooftop, where the glow of the city dimmed and the noise softened to a low rush of wind.

She told herself she wasn’t chasing him.

The lie didn’t even survive the first step.

He leaned against the railing, profile lit by the red blink of an aircraft beacon in the distance. The night breeze tugged lightly at his hair, teasing strands loose, while the faint scent of his cologne—dark spice wrapped in something cooler—wafted toward her. His posture was composed, effortless, as if he were simply admiring the view. But she knew better.

“You always disappear this quietly,” she asked as she approached, her bare feet muted against the smooth flooring, “or just when you’re brooding?”

That earned her a glance—sharp, assessing. His hand tightened imperceptibly on the railing, knuckles blanching. “I wasn’t aware I required an escort.”

“You don’t,” she said, stepping up beside him, the metal railing cool and steady beneath her palm as she mirrored his stance. “But you left like the table offended you.”

“It wasn’t the table,” he said dryly.

Theo folded her arms, the fabric of her dress stretching across her chest. “If this is about the text—”

“What else might it be?” His voice dropped low, carrying an edge that sliced through the night air. “You asked for my counsel, then ignored it within the hour.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion. You just gave it.”

“You made the matter public before the group. That invites comment.”

“Fine,” she scoffed, a faint smirk tugging at her lips despite herself. “You don’t like my choice. But it’s my life, Loki.”

He turned fully now, the subtle shift in his stance drawing her gaze. The scent of his cologne deepened, a dark spice mingling with something cool and sharp as he closed the space between them by a fraction. “You’re making a mistake.”

“You’re being overbearing.”

“I’m attempting to protect someone who’s too stubborn to see a trap when it’s baited.”

Theo’s chin lifted, almost brushing his. A stray strand of hair, loosened by the wind, caught on his shoulder before she brushed it away, fingertips grazing the fabric of his shirt.

“I see the trap. I know how to dismantle it.”

“You dismantle a snare by going around it, not into it.”

“For fuck’s sake, it’s a conversation, not a mission,” she groaned, exhaling sharply.

“That,” he murmured, leaning closer until the heat of his words cut through the cool air, “is precisely the problem—it’s far more dangerous.”

She huffed a short, humorless laugh, the sound barely more than a breath. “You think Chris is dangerous to me?”

“I think your pride is,” he replied, eyes flicking down to her mouth for the briefest second before snapping back up with an intensity that made her skin prickle.

“Wow,” she drawled, arching a brow at him. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You’ve already bested him once,” Loki said, voice low and even. “Why give him another chance to wound you?”

“I can handle Chris,” Theo said, voice firm. “If he tries anything—”

“If?” The single word was sharp as glass. “You think he has reached out from some place of good faith? You know better—”

“—That’s exactly why I’m not worried,” she shot back, eyes flashing. “If Chris tries anything—verbal, emotional, whatever—you know damn well I can put him in his place. Easily.”

“You seem confident in that,” he said, not looking at her now, gaze fixed on some far point beyond the skyline.

“I am confident. Or did you forget the part where I told him off at the gala? Because that didn’t exactly end with me running off in tears.”

Loki’s mouth curved, though it wasn’t quite a smile. “You mistake the cause for my concern.”

“Then what is it?” she pressed, stepping closer until the faint warmth of their bodies brushed. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you just don’t like that I’m curious enough to hear him out.”

“I think you are allowing curiosity to drag you back into the mire of disrespect and manipulation.”

“Or maybe I’m taking control of how things ended,” Theo said firmly, meeting his gaze without flinching. She took a step closer, the space between them charged and electric. “Maybe I want to hear what he has to say, look him in the eye, and walk away knowing there’s nothing left unsaid.”

“Closure,” Loki said, disdain curling the syllables like smoke, “a fantasy mortals chase to justify reopening old wounds.”

Her jaw tightened, muscles straining beneath pale skin. “Or maybe I just don’t like unfinished business.”

“Or perhaps,” he countered, voice low and dangerous, “you are foolish enough to believe you’re the exception to the rule.”

The barb landed harder than she wanted to admit. She swallowed it down, dry throat tightening. “Believe what you want. I’m meeting him tomorrow. On my terms.”

“On his invitation,” Loki said, voice cool but eyes holding hers steady. “Which means his terms.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never accepted an invite where you’ve dictated more favorable terms,” she challenged, voice dropping to a near whisper.

He matched her shift forward, leaving only inches between them. She could see the subtle pull of tendons in his hands as he curled his fingers into fists at his sides, nails pressing into his palms just enough to betray his restraint. “You think you’ll walk away unscathed?”

“I know I will.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

“I’ll handle it.”

“And when you don’t?”

She didn’t flinch. “Then I’ll face the consequences.”

Loki’s gaze dropped for a moment, his jaw tightening imperceptibly as if swallowing back something fierce. His shoulders squared as though bracing against a weight only he could feel, but he said nothing. The air around him thickened, a subtle tension radiating from his still form—frustration held just beneath the surface, tempered only by his control. His fingers clenched lightly at his sides, betraying a restlessness that words refused to express.

The silence between them stretched, full of things unsaid—things she suspected had nothing to do with Chris at all.

Eventually, he exhaled, slow and heavy, the breath dissipating into the night like a whispered warning.

“You will do as you wish,” His mouth curved; not in amusement, but in something darker, something edged with warning. “I am not here to leash you.”

“Glad we agree on that,” she said, though her tone made it clear it wasn’t a victory.

“But—” He turned his head toward her, eyes catching the faint rooftop light, glinting with a mixture of care and challenge. “If you come away wounded, do not come crying to me. I warned you what would happen.”

“Don’t worry,” Theo’s jaw tightened, but she held his gaze unwavering. “I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction.”

That earned her a flicker of something in his expression—annoyance, amusement, she couldn’t tell.

For a moment, neither moved. Then Loki pushed off the railing, straightening to his full height. The sharp click of his shoes against the decking punctuated the silence. He didn’t answer, but the quiet between them was thick as they walked back toward the firelight, both knowing the argument wasn’t finished…

… Just postponed.

Hopefully this wasn’t a mistake.

If I've been unapproachable Or I seem too emotional Life has been a rollercoaster So it goes, I've been Avoiding confrontational Bullshit conversations, so If I forgot to say hello It's just the mood I'm in

---

Author’s Note: So I may need to pick a new posting day. TLDR is my husband’s work schedule changed and now we have the weekends off together, which is great! Except now we’re busy doing things on the days I’d normally be wrapping up edits and posting (I literally finished editing this chapter while in a stadium watching a Major league soccer game with my husband, my SIL, and her husband) 💀 it’s also about to get busy with start of the school year (I work in education) so I may need to adapt!

Regardless, I will keep y’all posted. For now, plan on the next chapter coming sometime next weekend (August 16-17).

As always, thank you thank you THANK YOU for reading and sharing thoughts/reactions/etc! I may not always reply right away but I truly am so grateful that y’all indulge my madness.

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use-your-telescope · 11 days ago

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When Everything's Made to be Broken - Chapter 33: Dancing in the Dark

Summary: Fresh off of her big speech, Theo and Loki run into a familiar face, then end up on the dance floor.

Contents: Mutually pining idiots! Worst Chris(™) being a dweeb. Dancing.

Word Count: 3,493

Author’s Note: (See end of post)

When Everything's Made to Be Broken Series (Archive of Our Own) | When Everything's Made to be Broken Masterlist (Tumblr)

33. Dancing in the Dark

Song: Chit Chat - Beach Weather

You drive me crazy with that Chit chat, do you want that? Or wanna take me home tonight? All this chit chat is holding me back And I’m breaking just to bend your light I thought I told you, I really need your sugar A roller coaster, I’m going supernova Chit chat is holding me back From you… you…

Somehow, she’d done it.

Theo stepped off the stage in a daze, blinking against the polite congratulations and low hum of admiration that met her at the wings. Applause still echoed faintly in her bones—real, sustained applause—and not the awkward silence or scattered claps she’d half-feared after the risk she took with that opening. She’d barely had time to prepare, took a big risk by changing her opening to reply to the emcee’s introduction, and yet… it worked.

The realization struck like a second wave, catching her off guard. She hadn’t fumbled. She hadn’t frozen. The words had come, and the room had listened.

Still, she barely heard the praise. Her eyes were already searching for one face in the crowd—the only reaction that really mattered.

She didn’t have to search long. Loki was already making his way toward her, beaming, pride radiating from him like warmth. The sight made her chest tighten and her breath hitch, her heart fluttering wildly in the aftermath.

She was only just off the steps when he gathered her into his arms. His hands found her shoulders, steadying, grounding, before she could even think to relax. She let herself lean into him, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne, the press of his embrace giving her a moment to simply exist—before the rest of the night closed back in.

“You were extraordinary,” Loki murmured, warm and low enough that it slipped under the noise around them. He pulled away to look at her, though his hands never left her hips. His eyes traced her face with a focus that made the space feel smaller, nearer, while the chorus of fading applause in the ballroom became more distant.

Theo let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, the adrenaline still fraying the edges of her composure. “I was terrified,” she confessed, too quiet for anyone else to hear.

His lips curved, just slightly. “I know,” he said, not as a tease but as an acknowledgment, something like adoration flickering behind his gaze. “Yet, your performance was so powerful that they are none the wiser.”

The look that passed between them was quick, almost nothing—almost. A current tugging at the edges of something neither of them were ready to address, something they both felt and both chose, in that moment, to leave unspoken.

Applause rippled once more as the emcee wrapped up, guests rising from their tables in a soft rustle of silk and chair legs, conversation blossoming like new flowers as the orchestra resumed a gentle melody. Loki glanced toward the shifting crowd, then back to Theo, a single brow lifting in silent question: Shall we?

He gestured with an elegant sweep of his hand for her to lead, the smallest nod of deference and challenge all at once.

Backstage dissolved quickly into the grand ballroom again: clutches of donors and glittering socialites weaving threads of conversation through the soft clink of glasses and low laughter. Everything layered into a pleasant, velvet buzz that made it almost too easy to forget how sharp the world could turn.

They slipped through the glittering tide with ease, through slow-moving clusters of taffeta and polished suits.

People whispered as they passed. Some smiled too brightly; others lowered their gaze, pretending not to be caught. Everyone knew something was happening, but no one knew what. All the while, warm rumblings of praise brushed past her ears: You were brilliant tonight, Doctor. Thank you for what you’re doing. You looked radiant up there. She smiled, thanked them, let it land but not stick.

A server walked by, tray balanced expertly above the swirl of gowns and guests. Theo accepted a flute of champagne, the stem cool and delicate between her fingers. The bubbles fizzed against her lips as she took a careful sip, the taste bright and dry.

“You were right,” she murmured to Loki, her voice low enough that only he would hear it as she scanned the sea of watchful eyes following their path. The cold lingered on her tongue, steadied her. “They’re watching.”

“They always were,” Loki said, his tone dry, amused, a private smirk of satisfaction accompanying the response. He guided her gently around a cluster of politicians, flashing them a polite smile of acknowledgement. “And now, you’ve given them something worth seeing.”

Carefully, Loki guided her out of the steady current of guests, his hand warm and unobtrusive at the small of her back. He moved with intention, weaving between clusters of conversation and champagne flutes until they reached a rare pocket of quiet—an overlooked stretch near one of the towering windows that lined the ballroom wall.

Here, the noise of the crowd softened, dulled by velvet drapes and the hush of glass. Moonlight filtered in across the floor, cool and pale, casting their reflections faintly in the windowpanes. They weren’t entirely alone, but for a moment, it felt like they could breathe.

Theo shifted the fall of her dress, a cool ribbon of air whispering against her thigh. She caught her reflection in the glass: the serpentine beading glistening beneath golden light, hair twisted and pinned so each strand remained perfectly in place, makeup painted onto her face with careful precision. She nearly laughed at herself.

All this fanfare, all for a show.

She’d meant to make a comment about Julie and Sam tangled in another dramatic spin on the dance floor—a blessedly harmless distraction—when her eyes flicked past them and caught on someone near the bar:

Chris.

He looked just as he always did when he knew he had an audience: polished, loose-shouldered, relaxed in that practiced way that reeked of forced effortlessness. Surrounded by familiar hollywood faces and faux-sincerity, he laughed a little too loudly at something one of the older donors said, his hand curved possessively around a waist that wasn’t familiar...

Not the brunette from Times Square; no, this one was bleach blonde, with delicate features. Theo vaguely recognized her from some streaming show that churned out ingenues like clockwork.

Chris’s laugh faded when he looked up and noticed Theo. Their eyes locked across the crowd. He smiled first: a warm, effortless smile meant to say ‘Look how fine we are.’ Theo leaned into Loki as she returned a smile of her own, smooth and easy. Not cold, but just distant enough for him to feel the hollow space where he used to matter.

He murmured something to the blonde, gave her shoulder a squeeze that was meant to appear affectionate but landed empty, then peeled himself away from the bar and threaded through the opulent tangle of satin and suits toward Theo.

Beside Theo, Loki’s posture shifted; a subtle straightening, a new weight in his presence, the hand on the small of her back a bit more firm… Protective.

… Her heart skipped a beat at the thought.

“Theo,” Chris greeted when he reached them, his voice light, the grin pressed too tight around the edges. “You look… great.”

“Of course I do.” Theo let the champagne glass rest against her bottom lip for a heartbeat, then sipped, the bubbles hissing against her tongue. She tipped her head, as if she’d only now noticed the empty space at his side. “I thought you brought company?”

Chris followed her gaze back to the bar, then scratched the back of his neck — a gesture so practiced, Theo nearly laughed. “Oh—yeah. She’s just…”

“New,” Theo cut in gently, her tone smooth, unbothered in the way that made him twitch. “Not who you were with in Times Square, though.”

She watched the realization hit: the panicked flicker behind his eyes, the split-second stutter before he smoothed it over with forced nonchalance. “You saw me in Times Square?”

“Briefly,” she said, maybe relishing his discomfort a bit too much, but unwilling to offer him any grace. “I was a little too busy to say hi, though—saving the world and all.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Loki’s grin sharpen.

“Fair.” Chris adjusted his cuff, too focused on his own discomfort to notice Loki’s amusement. “I didn’t realize you two were… together.”

“Bold of you to assume you know anything about my personal life,” Theo replied without missing a beat, offering him a razor-edged smile.

“Especially considering your… evolving definition of commitment,” Loki chimed in, tilting his head so he looked down almost condescendingly at Chris. “It’s impressive, truly—cycling through women you hardly know, and still finding time to wonder about the ones who have moved on.”

Chris’s jaw tightened, a faint crease appearing between his brows. He opened his mouth, as if to reply, but shut it again with a small exhale, once again adjusting his cuff to cover his discomfort while trying to come up with a clever reply. He flicked his eyes between them, searching for a crack in the facade; when he found none, he sighed. “Well… You look happy.”

“I am,” Theo simply said, letting the sharpness drop in favor of something more genuine, all while taking the chance to rub salt in the wound.

“Chris, baby?” A bright, clear voice interrupted, drawing their attention. His date, draped in pale blue satin, appeared at his side, eyes flicking between the trio with composed curiosity. “What’s going on? You said you were going to grab us drinks.”

Chris blinked, clearly surprised she had followed him. His mouth opened and closed once more before he caught himself.

“Hey babe—” he cleared his throat, shifting slightly, eyes flicking toward Theo and then back. “—yeah, I—I was just saying hi.”

The woman’s gaze settled on Theo, recognition sparking. “Dr. Amaris! Your speech was incredible.”

“Thank you,” Theo replied, her tone warm but measured. Regardless of Theo’s feelings about Chris, his date didn’t deserve to be caught in the crossfire… At least, not unless she tried to pull something.

The woman glanced back at Chris, an eyebrow lifting with quiet displeasure. “I didn’t realize getting drinks involved catching up with your ex.”

“Funny, neither did I.” Theo smiled, dry but easy; she gave the woman a small, reassuring nod as she continued: “Trust me, if I’d known he was heading my way, I would’ve waved him off and sent the drinks over myself—saved us both the headache.”

She met the woman’s stare, letting a quiet assurance of solidarity pass between them: no rivalry here, just two women inconvenienced by the same man’s choices.

Luckily, the woman’s expression softened a bit, picking up the cue. Even better, Chris looked momentarily deflated.

Loki’s gaze flicked between them, reading the tension with a predator’s ease before sliding to the woman, giving her a polite, reassuring nod that managed to be both charming and dismissive of the man beside her. Then his eyes returned to Chris, cool and unhurried, a faint curve at his mouth suggesting amusement that didn’t reach the frost in his stare.

“Well, we’d best not keep you any longer. Enjoy the rest of your evening,” Loki said smoothly, the words warm enough to the woman but carrying an unmistakable edge when his gaze cut to Chris.

Loki offered Theo his arm, which Theo happily accepted, allowing him to guide her away, leaving Chris and his date standing in awkward silence despite the music floating through the ballroom.

As they walked, Loki leaned in slightly. “She handled that rather gracefully.”

Theo’s lips twitched, her breath leaving in a soft huff of restrained amusement. “Can’t say the same for him.”

“No,” he agreed, eyes glinting as he glanced down at her. “but you, my dear, were magnificent.”

She tipped her glass to her lips, taking a longer sip this time. She let out a deep breath. Not a sigh — more like something lighter leaving her chest. Weight, gone.

“You didn’t tear him apart,” Loki said quietly, amusement interlaced with curiosity as he watched her over the rim of his glass.

“Not worth the cleanup,” Theo murmured, rolling the delicate flute between her fingers. The bubbles tickled her nose, sharp and bright. “Besides… I’d rather let him wonder than confirm anything.”

Loki’s eyes gleamed in the chandelier light, sharp and soft all at once. “You are far more dangerous than you let on.”

She turned fully toward him, the soft music pulling back into her awareness — laughter, crystal clinks, the distant bass of the band striking up another song. The light caught the beading at her hip, and she saw his eyes catch there too, just for a moment.

“You like that,” she said, low enough that it was for him alone.

He stepped closer, closing that final inch that made the whole room feel too far away to matter. “Immensely.”

Their glasses touched, a quiet chime tucked between the hush of secrets and the thunder of everything unsaid.

All theater, all precision…

… Or, maybe it wasn’t.

Like a phantom, I will steal your heart Until we’re dancing in the dark Like a phantom, I will steal your heart Until we’re dancing in the dark

Inevitably, the evening’s festivities led to the dance floor.

The band eased into the first notes of a slow, sensual melody that drifted like warm smoke across the marble floor, while conversation folded into the rich harmonies of strings, brass, and piano.

Theo hovered at the edge, glass in hand, pretending her pulse wasn’t picking up with every couple that took to the floor. She wasn’t here to dance. She was here to be seen, to manage optics, to keep herself in check.

She watched the swirl of gowns and tuxedos gathering under the glittering chandeliers, pretending she didn’t feel the shift in the air behind her.

But, as it often was with Loki, Theo felt him before she saw him—like an electrical current sparking over her skin and settling at the small of her back. A flicker of heat, an unspoken dare.

“Come,” Loki murmured from behind her, voice a velvet promise, dark and soft as he stepped into her space. She turned her head just enough to meet his eyes, green and dangerous in the dim light. He extended his hand, palm open. “You’ve conquered them with words. Let them see you dance.”

“Trying to make a scene?” Theo arched a brow, chin tilting as she let her gaze drop slowly down the line of his extended arm before meeting his eyes again, playful but composed. Despite trying for nonchalance, her pulse betrayed her with its sudden, sharp flutter.

A slow, wolfish smirk curved across his mouth. “Always.”

She almost refused, almost gave him a dismissive quip—that she had two left feet, or that she would trip and make him look bad. But the weight of his gaze—steady, unhurried—tied up the words in her throat.

Before she could decide otherwise, his fingers brushed hers, curling gently, tugging her forward. His palm was warm against her bare skin, and each step felt like stepping deeper into something she couldn’t name.

They stopped at the edge of the floor. He stepped in closer—close enough she could see the gold threaded in the green of his eyes, the faint curl of hair at the nape of his neck that somehow made him seem devastatingly, infuriatingly human. His hand found her waist, fingertips pressing just firmly enough to light her nerves on fire.

“I must confess,” he murmured, low enough for only her to hear, “I suspect dancing with you might be quite the experience.”

Heat curled low in her belly, surprising her—startling her. She let out a soft, helpless laugh that did nothing to steady her pulse. “Oh? Just a suspicion?”

His smile darkened, softened, sharpened all at once. “I’m willing to conduct thorough research.”

She raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. “For science, I assume.”

“Entirely for science,” he agreed solemnly, though his eyes were warm and wicked. “Shall we begin?”

Before she could answer, the violins swelled, and he slipped them seamlessly into the dance, guiding her into the slow rhythm with the confidence of someone who had danced through centuries. His hand settled at the small of her back—steady, possessive in a way that felt so careful and yet so charged it made her breath catch.

Theo fit her other hand lightly on his shoulder, fingertips brushing fine fabric over hard muscle. The scent of him—cedar and something warm, spiced—coiled through her chest, making her toes curl inside her heels. Her pulse fluttered so violently she was certain he could hear it, even over the soaring viola and surrounding conversations.

Around them, the floor filled with familiar faces: Natasha and Bucky moving with assassin precision, Sam twirling Julie dramatically while she pretended to be unimpressed, Tony swaying Pepper with whispers that earned him an eye roll and a smile.

Theo caught Julie’s glare from over Loki’s shoulder—mocking, supportive, exasperated all at once—and it made her grin. But then Loki’s hand shifted slightly higher, the brush of his thumb tracing the line of her spine, and stole any coherent thought.

The world fell away as the floor opened beneath their feet. Loki guided her with quiet mastery, every step confident and unhurried, his hand firm at her waist. Despite Loki’s grandstanding about how lucky someone would be to share a dance with her, Theo couldn’t help but feel it was the other way around.

He was magic, every motion smooth, precise, yet relaxed, like he was made for this. The band’s violins and cellos wove around them, and for a moment, Theo wondered if he’d somehow enchanted her feet, because she didn’t stumble once—not even in her heels. She glided under his lead, her dress brushing against his legs with each turn, the beading catching the light in sharp, beautiful flashes.

Of course, as a prince, he’d probably taken lessons. But with every effortless spin, Theo realized he didn’t just know how to dance—he felt it, each shift of weight and angle of his hand attuned to hers as if they were notes in the same song.

They moved together as if they’d done this a thousand times; his lead confident, her steps light, every maneuver graceful. Each turn pulled her closer, until her beaded dress pressed against the crisp dark of his suit, and she swore she felt him exhale, a quiet, sharp hitch that made her wonder if he was as rattled as she was.

“You’re... really good at this,” she said, voice unsteady, grasping for something normal to hold onto.

“I’ve had practice,” he murmured, eyes flicking down to her mouth and back up again. The weight of it made her stomach flip. “Though having a companion as magical as yourself certainly helps.”

The song melted into its final stretch, violins softening into a hush that wrapped around them like silk. Loki slowed them to a gentle sway, his hand sliding from her spine to settle low at her waist, fingers splayed, warm and strong. Her arms drifted up around his shoulders, fingertips brushing the skin just under his collar—skin warmer than she’d expected.

His eyes darkened, glinting under the chandelier light, and his lips curved in a smile that sent heat pooling low in her belly. He dipped his head closer, so close she could feel the ghost of his breath against her temple.

“My suspicions were correct,” he murmured, each word sinking under her skin. “I have danced many times, but none I have enjoyed quite like this.”

Theo’s throat tightened around a reply that wouldn’t come. She swallowed, let the truth slip out unguarded. “I’d say the same for you.”

Something in his gaze flickered. His eyes fell to her lips, lingered, then rose to meet hers again, and the heat there made the world tilt on its axis.

“If dancing with you feels like this,” he said, his smile sharp and soft all at once, “I can’t help but wonder how you move when there’s no audience… and no rules.”

The last notes of the song stretched long and sweet, a final indulgence. They didn’t break apart. They didn’t kiss. They just hovered there—breathing the same breath, feeling the same reckless pull—suspended in that fragile hush between pretense and possibility.

And when the final chord faded, when the world around them stirring back to life, they stayed close enough to feel every heartbeat between them: undeniable, dangerous, and suddenly, wonderfully real.

You drive me crazy with that Chit-chat, do you want that Or wanna take me home tonight? All this chit-chat is holding me back I'm breaking just to bend your light I thought I told you, I really need your sugar A roller coaster, I'm going supernova Chit-chat is holding me back from you, you

--- Author’s Note: Hi friends, Sorry I’m a day late on posting! I got a stomach bug and, well… Opening my laptop for final edits/formatting was not happening yesterday. I’m feeling a bit better, so, chapter time! Just a heads up that if I think I’m going to miss my usual upload date, I’ll usually try to make a post on tumblr to let folks know. :) Thanks, as always, for the kind words and reactions. Y’all are gems! I have family in town next weekend, but we should still be on track for a Sunday update. I’ll keep y’all posted!

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