#cryptidcasanova

You had slipped away from your nanny and ran straight into Billy in the process.

“Oof-” “Hey, watch it-”

The collision knocked you both off your feet. 

Billy scrunched his nose but the words died on his tongue as he looked over to you. 

You had been running and were out of breath, and looked at him with the softest doe eyes he had ever seen.

Your dress was too nice to be going to the park, but the grass stain you had on your knees told him that you either didn’t notice or didn’t care. 

He was staring, his dark eyes watching the way you were breathing too heavily, how your hair had been pinned in place but was now mussed up from running.

You were pretty. Not like any of the girls at the orphanage.

And he, well, he was looking pretty scruffy himself.  

Billy was wearing a pair of pants that were two sizes too big and a stained t-shirt that was quickly shrinking on him. 

But he had never cared because he had no way to change the way he dressed.

Everything they had at the orphanage were hand me downs. He was small and skinny and lanky, and was lucky that anything fit him at all.

Maybe one day he would be able to care about what he wore, but it was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

But you, oh, you were a vision. 

You apologized in a hurry and before he knew it you were pulling yourself back up to your feet. The once white Keds were scuffed but you didn’t pay it any mind. You had to keep going. 

Billy’s brain finally caught up to him as you passed by. 

He didn’t know what he was doing, but he knew didn’t want you to go.

“Hey, wait!” He called out after you, and before he knew it his feet were leading him in your direction. “Wait up! Where are you going?”

You didn’t stop running until he caught up to you, putting a hand on your shoulder. When you finally stopped and turned back to him you were both out of breath.

“I’m running away.” 

You said it like it was no big deal. 

Billy was smart, even then, and even his own attempts at running away never lasted very long. He was always picked up by the cops and dropped back off at the orphanage.

He knew you’d never survive on the streets. One look at you gave that away.

What he wouldn’t give to be in your shoes. You could go home to your nice, cushy house and have a hot meal and probably have all the toys you could ever want. 

“Why do you want to run away anyhow?” He asked, genuinely curious. 

Didn’t you have everything you could ever want?

But you only frowned at him.

“They think I’m a doll.” You told him, making sure no one was following them. “They think they can dress me up and show me off and put me away when they’re done with me.”

Billy had to give you credit; you were smarter than he thought.

Your parents wanted a daughter to be seen and not heard. 

You probably never even had the chance to play at the park and make friends and be a kid. 

And that was one lonely life to live.

So he took a step closer.

“That’s tough. Want to play basketball?” He offered to lighten the mood. There was a small smile tugging on his lips. “I’m Billy.”

You considered his offer. No one had ever asked you to play before.

And his smile was so sweet. 

Of course you wanted to play.

Your own grin lingered as you followed him to the basketball courts.

Billy didn’t treat you like a doll. He taught you how to shoot and dribble, but he was also cheeky. 

“Billy!” You groaned when he stole the ball out from under your nose. He wasn’t playing fair. “Billy, I mean it. You better give it back to me!”

He would play keep away and run circles around you, but even in your frustration the smile stayed on your face. You’d never been so happy or so tired in your life. 

“Let’s take a break. Are you hungry?” You asked, but before he could answer you were off. Bright eyed and bushy tailed you pulled him over to the hot dog stand.

The man at the stand didn’t pay you any mind, but one look at Billy made him scowl. Billy knew that look. 

Riff raff.

“Beat it, kid.”

“No, no!” You insisted, pulling at the lining to a pocket in your dress. 

You handed the vendor a five dollar bill, making Billy’s eyebrows jump up. You had money with you. How did he not notice it before?

“He’s with me. Two hotdogs, please.”

Oh, your manners were so sweet. You were so sweet.

Whether or not you caught on to the vendor’s distaste for Billy you didn’t mention it. Nor did you mention the surprise on Billy’s face when you passed him the hot dog. You ate in silence but all the while Billy watched you with a curious expression. 

“You still thinking about running away?” 

You thought about it for a moment.

“I guess that depends.” You smiled, looking at the ketchup smeared on his chin. “Do you think you can come here next week? Same time?”

Something had changed when you looked back at him. The softness of your eyes left you vulnerable.

You wanted a friend. 

That’s all you wanted, a friend. 

For the first time Billy felt like someone gave a shit about him, and you barely knew him. 

Maybe you were too trusting, or maybe he wasn’t trusting enough.

But damn it all if he wasn’t willing to try.

“I’ll be here.”

And he was. 

Billy snuck out again the week after, and the week after that, and all the weeks to come.

You two had become true friends, spending time at the park and playing different sports and eating hot dogs and ice cream cones. 

You had gotten into trouble every time you came home with grass stains and skidded knees, but couldn’t find it in you to care. 

Having a friend in Billy was the best thing that ever happened to you.

But then one day something terrible happened. 

Billy was going to have an adoption interview.

He was anxious. Shit, he wasn’t ready to get adopted. Not now. 

And the only person he wanted to talk to was you.

So he fled before the interview, and he knew it wasn’t your day to go to the park so he ran all the way to your house.

You had told him about where you lived at one point, but he didn’t realize just how far it was on foot. 

By the time he made it to the steps of the house with the lavender bushes in front of it and an old glass door he knew he made it.

He knocked frantically and was expecting the nanny to answer, but was surprised when it was a man, tall and mean and imposing, that was on the other side.

That man was your father.

He eyed Billy suspiciously, and for a moment thought he was going to close the door on him. Your father had the same look of disdain on his face that the hot dog vendor had.

Riff raff.

“Please, please sir.” Billy started as respectfully as he could. “Is Y/N home? It’s an emergency.”

The man stopped Billy by holding his hand up.

“You must be this friend of hers.” He was incredulous. “Bill, was it?”

Your father’s cold tone made Billy’s hair stand on end.

“I almost didn’t believe her. You see, my little girl doesn’t have a lot of friends. Now what is so urgent?” He insisted, but Billy shook his head.

“I just really really need to talk to her. Please.”

Your father paused, looking past the entryway of the house up the curved staircase.

“You see, I don’t think that’s going to happen.” Your dad was cold as he turned back to Billy. “You can’t just come to our house. You’re not the kind I want hanging around her.”

Billy could feel his temper rise before he could stop it. 

“What does that mean?” 

“She’s a good girl. You think I’m going to let you get close to my daughter, you street rat? She’s not going to be spending any more time with your lot.”

Billy could have sworn he was hit in the stomach. It ached, and he didn’t like it.

“What do you mean by my lot?”

His voice was raised, and Billy knew he was in uncharted waters but he couldn’t back down.

Your father crouched down to eye level and grabbed Billy by the shoulder.

“I’m putting an end to this. Y/N is going to school. She’s going far away and you’re going to stop seeing her.”

Billy shook his head.

“Fuck you.” 

Your father’s grip was firm on his shoulder.

Billy thought he was going to get hit from his outburst, but your father was cruel and manipulative in other ways.

“It doesn’t matter if you’re a Rockefeller or a Ford, you’re not getting my permission to see my daughter. Now get the hell off of my property.” 

This wasn’t happening.

“No.” 

Billy shook his head, not realizing tears had gathered in his eyes. 

“No. Y/N. Y/N!” 

He had yelled and yelled before your father was pushing him out the door. 

And he could have sworn for a moment he heard you too. He could have sworn that you were calling out for him but there was cotton in his ears.

Billy couldn’t focus as he stood at the bottom of the stairs. He couldn’t find it in himself to move.

But the cops came, probably on behalf of your father, and they picked him up and sent him back to the orphanage.

He couldn’t put it into words until then, but Billy figured it out too late. He had loved you from the very first moment he laid eyes on you.

Your father was true to his word. He sent you away to some boarding school upstate and Billy never saw you again. You were gone. You were gone because of him. 

Billy stopped sneaking out to go to the park after that.

But he never forgave, and he never forgot.

Billy dreamed about you sometimes. He dreamed about the time that you two were young and carefree and happy. He dreamed of hot dogs and basketball games.

Billy had a moment where he was truly happy, even with all the bullshit he faced back at the orphanage.

It was because you didn’t care about money or that he was an orphan. 

You didn’t care about his clothes or how ridiculous he looked when he lost his two front baby teeth. 

You were such a sweetheart. You shared your tooth fairy money with him. 

He knew of course that the tooth fairy wasn’t going to come for someone like him. But you believed in him.

He loved you so much that it hurt.

Even as he got older and out of the system he thought about looking for you, but Billy let himself move on when he joined the corps. 

It was one hell of a distraction, and it was then that he found a different kind of family. They held him together pretty well.

And the women. The women that he could find in his bed were a different kind of distraction.

Not love, never for love, but for a good time. Something to keep the demons at bay. And then Cerberus happened. Agent Orange, Anvil, all of it.

Billy had clout and money and power. He was charming, handsome, and charismatic. He had it all. He had the brains and the brawn. The world was his for the taking.

It wasn’t until he was passing that familiar street with the lavender flowers still blooming outside that he thought of you again.

Billy had a new mission, one he wasn’t going to back down from. He was going to find you. 

When he made it back to his office that night he poured a glass of scotch and did some digging of his own. 

He had connections. He knew what to do. So when he finally made the call that would change the trajectory of his own life he wasn’t going to let anything slip through his fingers this time.

“I need a favor.”

Something terrible had happened. Your family name was all over the news.

Your father was wanted for money laundering into multiple offshore bank accounts. It was for not only thousands, but millions of dollars worth of dirty money. And you had no idea about any of it.

The only life you had known was turned upside down. 

No amount of private schooling or expensive tuition could have prepared you for the defamation, foreclosure, or bankruptcy that followed. 

There were records of his dealings sealed away in your childhood home and both the FBI and Homeland Security had made their rounds to investigate. You couldn’t believe it. 

Your mother couldn’t sustain the lifestyle she had been accustomed to, falling into a manic state. Everything you had ever known was crumbling at your feet. 

To make matters worse your father had gone on the run. He had disappeared without a trace.

Days turned into weeks into months without a word from him. Your mother had fallen into a rabbit hole of her own, too embarrassed to face the public after what had happened. 

She moved to Connecticut with her sister, but you didn’t have the heart to leave New York. You had taken up different jobs to make ends meet, to get into a small apartment of your own. 

The jobs you had taken were out of the spotlight. You had worked as a librarian and as a coffee roaster and as an extra set of hands when a restaurant needed extra wait staff.

Nothing about your thrifted clothes or smudged makeup would make you stand out in a crowd. The life you knew was gone. You were on your own.

And it stayed that way for some time. You were cold and detached, and as time went on your already strained relationship with your parents had only gotten worse. You were having thoughts that your father truly did abandon you with no intentions of coming back.

You could have never known that Billy had him locked up in a warehouse on the outskirts of town. 

You could have never guessed that the laundering was a lie. 

You could have never imagined the amount of time it took for it all fall into place.

Your father was picked up by the wrong company car one evening and next thing he knew was the soaring pain of a whack to the back of his head. 

When he woke up he was tied to a metal chair in a dark, rusted room. 

Three men followed him into the room all dressed to the nines. Suits and ties and shoes that were freshly shined. This wasn’t the little leagues. 

But even in his less than ideal situation your father always did have a nasty temper.

“Who the hell are you?” 

The man standing in front of the rest gave him a careful once over before a smirk danced on his lips. 

That man was Billy Russo.

“Can we have the room for a moment?”

His calm demeanor never faltered as the others quietly left the room. 

Billy was suave and patient, talking long and purposeful strides over to your father before leaning against the wall next to him.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Billy didn’t reply, watching him with a dark stare.

“I said, who the fuck are you? Let me out of here you piece of shit.”

Billy let a moment pass, but he knew what was coming. A storm was brewing behind his eyes.

“It’s a shame, really.” Billy started, unaffected by the man’s yelling. “There will be no more operas for you to go to. No more vacations.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re a wanted man in New York.” Billy taunted calmly. “Money laundering of all things.” 

If looks could kill both men would have been struck down. Billy was cold and unreadable and your father was furious.

“I suppose it’s a good thing you already had the money to put your kid through private schooling upstate, huh?”

There was a pause, a moment where Billy could see all the cogs in your father’s head turning all at once.

“The fuck did you say?” 

He wasn’t nearly as large and intimidating as Billy remembered him. 

Your father was a coward and a bully. Billy could never respect a man like that.

He was scared too; Billy could give him that. Your father was uphill without a paddle.

But Billy couldn’t forgive the cruel way your father sent you away all those years ago. You were just a little girl when he shipped you off. 

“I said, it’s a good thing you already sent your daughter upstate. Because you won’t have the chance to do that again.” Billy explained. “She was gone for a long while, wasn’t she?”

Talking about you struck a nerve.  Billy could see it in the way your father’s hands were shaking.

Something clicked.

“Wait, I know you.”

And finally, when the realization spread on his face Billy’s smirk widened.

“You’re the street rat.”

The change in Billy’s attitude was swift. He was no street rat. The immediate frown on his face was replaced by a cold, detached gaze.

“It’s a real shame what’s going to happen to your family.” Billy warned, trying to keep his composure. “You’re leaving them destitute.”

“I haven’t done anything-”

“They’re going to have to fend for themselves. They’re going to be all alone.” Billy leaned in with a whisper. “But that’s okay, I can fix that.”

Your father knew the implications of his words.

Billy took it a step too far.

“You stay the hell away from my daughter, street rat!”

“Ah, shh shh.” Billy cooed, grabbing the man by the back of the neck. “You know I can’t do that.”

A murderous expression brimmed in Billy’s eyes as his grip tightened. Your father was struggling against his grip, but there was nothing he could do.

Oh, how Billy had dreamed of this moment.

“Now I’m not looking for forgiveness,” He smirked. “but I’m way past asking for permission.”

The restaurant was closed, prepping for the busy dinner service to come.

“Did you see that reservation we received for tonight? The boss is going to be real happy about this one.” 

Your coworker, Katie, was practically bouncing around the place. 

“Who is it for?” You asked absentmindedly.

You hadn’t even thought to ask when you got the call to see if you could help the wait staff for the evening. You just knew that the extra tips would be nice.

“Anvil.”

“Who?” 

“It’s not a who, silly. It’s a company. A really big company.” Katie explained. “They work with the military or something.”

The sound at the back of your throat was unimpressed. Anvil. You rolled your eyes. They were just another corporate office with money to spend.

“You mean mercenaries and thieves and pirates?” 

Your playful wink was met by Katie shaking her head.

“They are contractors. Probably really cute contractors. Contractors that reserved a bottle of Louis XIII.” 

Katie wiggled her eyebrows and you couldn’t help but throw the rag you were using to clean up the bar top at her. She squealed and shied away, but the smile didn’t leave her face.

“So they are definitely mercenaries and thieves and pirates.”

“Cute pirates.” She corrected and you offered her a smile before you two slipped out the back. The dinner service wouldn’t be long now.

The black tie formal attire wasn’t new to you and you liked it. You were supposed to blend in with the crowd and not take away from the dining experience. 

The black slacks, black button up, and black apron around your waist were safety blankets.

No one knew who you were. No one knew who you once were.

So you retreated to the shadows until the party arrived. Both you and Katie were serving the large group, and as you welcomed the party into the reserved room you hardly took note of the well dressed men who entered and took their seats.

You politely offered to pour the Louis XIII and overheard the gentlemen’s clamor.

“Where’s the man of the night? This is a party for him after all.”

“Oh, you know Bill. He’ll be here.”

“Fashionably late as always.” 

You held back rolling your eyes. Who would be late for an event like this? 

But their night was in full swing. The men were lounging and talking about deals and promotions and projects. It was easy to zone out their idle chatter. 

It wasn’t until you were bending over to refill a glass that a booming voice spoke over the rest.

“There he is! Our man of the hour. Bill Russo in the flesh.”

You blinked twice before setting down the glass you overpoured.

Russo. You knew that name. 

Surely you must have been mistaken. When you finally gained the courage to look up you froze. 

There, standing at the opposite end of the table you watched a tall, lean man step into the room. He was younger than the rest of the men in their party.

His hair was dark and slicked back and his eyes were dark against the low lighting. When he smiled you couldn’t deny the familiarity you felt. 

You knew him. You knew him a lifetime ago.

Billy.

You remembered flashes of the lanky boy with buzzed hair and a twinkle of mischief in his eye. You remembered his Looney Toons t-shirt and the ketchup he used to wipe off of his chin.

That boy, well, he wasn’t a boy at all. 

He had grown into quite the gentleman. 

Your heart thrummed for what he had turned himself into. 

You could never forget the way your father threw him out of your house or how you cried and cried when you were shipped off to the all girl’s private school. 

You detested him for it. You hated every moment of it.

But the aching pangs of your heart were interrupted by the clamor of glasses rising in a toast.

That wasn’t your life anymore.

Blinking away the past you turned, straightened out your apron, and poured more drinks. You were in no position to reminisce about the past. 

You took five strong steps to the other side of the table and met Billy at his seat with a muted but kind expression, offering him a glass. 

When his eyes turned to you it took a moment for you to remember where you were. You had to remember to keep a grip on the glass, otherwise it would have fallen down to your feet.

His expression was compassionate, sincere even. 

Instead of letting you set the glass down he reached out, his long fingers bumping against yours as he took it. He was close, so close that you could smell the sharp cologne he wore.

And his eyes, oh they could swallow you up. Were they always that dark?

“Thank you.” 

The timber of his voice was warm and the hint of a smile was evident on the corner of his lips.

Billy Russo.

You could cry.

And for a moment, just for a split second you could have sworn he recognized you.

But you had no time to think about it. The man sitting next to Billy was snapping at you to come and help him with his glass. 

So you took a professional step back. You needed the space. 

Blinking back the sudden rush of emotion you looked away from Billy and moved across the table. You were still working, after all.

What you didn’t notice, however, was the trace of a scowl on Billy’s face when the man off to his side stole your attention. He was rude for snapping. Couldn’t he see you were busy?

But you remain unfazed by the man’s antics. You had seen your fair share of those kinds of men before. 

You couldn’t tell if the night passed by quickly or slowly. It was going by too quickly for you to stop and think about the little boy that grew up in the system, but slowly enough that each time you looked over to him his eyes landed on yours with a gentle grin.

No one mentioned it, not even Katie. She usually was the first one to spot if any of the patrons were giving extra attention to the wait staff. Billy was discreet, that was for sure. 

Appetizers had come and gone and entrees were served before you took a quick breath of air outside. Katie would be alright on her own for a minute. 

You could hardly keep a clear thought. You had tried to find Billy after you were free from school, but the orphanage let you know that he was long gone. He never did find a permanent home, and after he was out of the system he joined the military.

After that it was virtually impossible to find him. He wasn’t even in the country. And now, here he was, all these years later. 

He was someone you could only dream of. 

A bitter laugh was pulled from your lips as you thought about your own situation.

You had lost everything. You were living in a hovel that the train passed by eight times a day, didn’t have a stable career, and were barely making it on your own.

God, you were a mess.

But you picked yourself up by your bootstraps and patted away at the stray tear that had fallen down your cheek. You were going to be strong. You had to be. 

Billy was always strong, even as a little boy. It was your turn to be strong.

So you finished the dinner with a finesse that Katie was even impressed by, and even after clearing the last of the dessert plates you weren’t any worse for wear.

You tried to keep your mind on other things, on literally any except for the man sitting at the head of the table. 

By the time the party started to slow down the kitchens were closed and the rest of the restaurant was empty. It was just the Anvil party remaining.

And it was getting late.

Many of the men had too much to drink, and you were happy to help anyone that needed a cab. Others wanted to stay and reminisce, and it was about that time that you noticed Katie fighting to stay awake.

“Why don’t you head out. I can finish up here.” She gave you a sleepy smile and shook her head.

“And let you get all these tips? No way toots.” 

You laughed gently, not realizing the attention you had grabbed at the end of the table in the process.

“I promise your tips will be intact. Go get some rest. You’ll be no help if you’re falling asleep washing dishes.”

Katie offered a dopey thanks before nodding in agreement. 

“Just let me know when you get home safe, ‘kay?” 

You agreed with a hum, and when you turned back to the table Billy was watching you with a sweet smile. 

The other men were talking to him, but even you could tell his attention was elsewhere. They however did not.

You felt his eyes on you as you walked around the room and cleared the rest of the cutlery.

There were only a handful of men still lounging, their voices dropping into hushed tones before they had started to call it a night. 

And then, at long last, it was only Billy left. 

“Thank you for your help tonight.” 

His voice was clear and gentle, and if you didn’t know better you couldn’t tell if he had anything to drink. 

“Happy to do it.” You smiled back at him. “Are you ready to cash out?” 

Billy leaned back in his chair and offered you a lazy smile.

“I suppose so. Care to join me?” You watched as he pulled a hand through his raven locks before sitting back. “You’ve been on your feet all night and there’s enough cognac left for a couple of small glasses. I’ll even pour.” He offered.

Before you could find it in you to turn down the offer you brought the bottle of Louis XIII over to the table and gave him a humble grin of your own.

No one would know. It was just the two of you.

A somber moment passed as he poured the liquor. When you went to sit down next to him another wave of emotion crept up on you. 

You couldn’t believe it. It all felt like a dream.

With a quiet tap of your glass against his you took a drink, but his hovered over his lips.

“I know you.” Billy hesitated, his intense eyes locking you in place. “I know you, don’t I?”

You couldn’t help the breath of a laugh that passed your lips. You were nervous.

Oh, god. Yes. Yes. 

You brushed your free hand across your face and looked back at him. He was so cool, so suave. 

“I -” You started, trying not to get choked up. You resigned yourself to taking another sip of the expensive cognac before looking back up to him. “You taught me how to play basketball. And how to make it all the way across the monkey bars.”

You let out another breathy, nervous laugh, holding your glass to the side.

“You were my friend.” 

You didn’t have the courage to look him in the eye, but if you did you would have seen a world of emotion in them. 

He couldn’t keep up the charade any longer.

“Y/N.” Billy finally spoke, and the sound of your name on his lips made you blink back tears. 

He did remember you. 

“Y/N, it is you.”

It was the sound of your respite on his lips. When you looked at him it was like you were seeing him for the first time.

“Billy,” You started, but you didn’t know where to go. You didn’t know what to say. “It’s really you.”

Your resolve had cracked, and years of heartache and regret were pulled to the surface. He was once again looking at that doe eyed girl from so many years ago.

Billy was floored. He thought that all this time his feelings were one sided, but maybe he was wrong. 

You were nothing but professional at dinner. But it was an act. You knew it was him all along. 

His heart lurched in his chest. You remembered him. 

“Of course it’s me. Oh, sweetheart.”

Billy pushed forward in a rush, and the sound of his chair hitting the floor was nothing next to the way he pulled you into his embrace. 

“Of course it’s me.” He cooed against your hair. “It’s me. I’m here.”

He couldn’t forget you. He missed you so much. 

You couldn’t tell whether it was the liquor in your veins or the lateness of the hour, you returned his embrace with the same ferocity. 

You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know what to think. Words were spilling past your lips before you could stop them.

“I never got to say goodbye.” You sucked in a heavy breath. “I-I'm so sorry.”

Your admission made his heart swell with both adoration and with a fiery vengeance. You were kept away from him all that time. 

But none of that mattered now. You were with him now, and that’s all that mattered.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” He urged, pulling back to look you in the eye. “It was a long time ago.”

You closed your eyes, resting your forehead against his own. God, you missed him. 

When you gained the courage to open your eyes you found his were still closed. 

He wanted this too, you realized. He missed you too.

So you savored the moment. When Billy finally did open his eyes he was met with such an intense gaze that he thought he would fall through the floor if he didn’t ground himself to you.

The longing in your eyes mirrored his own. You didn’t pull back. You didn’t shy away. 

His hand settled on your cheek and you leaned into it with the hint of a smile on your lips. 

Oh how he dreamed of this moment.

You had to look away, just for a moment before grounding yourself. He was intense. You knew a little boy, but not the man in front of you. 

After all this time you had closed yourself off from the world, from the life you once knew. Maybe it wasn’t all bad. Maybe it was time to open back up.

Damn it all if you weren’t willing to try. 

You met him with a careful, cheeky expression.

“Would you like to get a hotdog sometime?”

Billy’s cheeks ached from smiling.

He was the luckiest man in the world.

“I’d love that.”

The normally loud and advantageous God of Thunder was lounging against a seat at the bar.

The normally loud and advantageous God of Thunder was lounging against a seat at the bar.

He was in dark jeans and a long sleeve, and his hair was pulled back into a low bun at the nape of his neck. He was at ease.

He looked, well he looked normal. There was no cape, no hammer swinging, no loud outbursts. He was stunning.

You caught his eye and Thor nodded in acknowledgement with a hint of a smile on his lips.

You doubted he remembered you.

Out of the Avengers team Thor had been at the tower the least amount of time. He was hardly around between traveling to Asgard and solving one earthly crisis after another.

He had no reason to stay, you supposed.

And before you had any time to dwell on the Asgardian your friends were pulling you back in, ready for another drink. They were completely unaware of who else was in the bar and you held back a smile.

You could have told them about the God in the corner. You could have. But you kept it to yourself.

Something there, dancing in the back of your mind, told you that this was your secret. It was yours to keep.

The night passed easily, joking and drinking the hours away. The girls never did catch on who was sitting across the room, but every now and again your eyes would catch his own.

Thor was there, uncaring and unmoving.

He was at peace with his solitude in the bar, but his eyes sparked something within you every time he caught you staring.

Or maybe he was the one staring. You had felt eyes on you all night.

It was a game of cat and mouse, stealing glances and keeping the rush of nerves at bay.

You weren’t some young girl with butterflies in your stomach, but he did make you nervous. He made you anxious in a good way.

And the warping of the light against his eyes made him look almost hungry.

It was a wicked game to play.

There was something almost dangerous in the way that the most boisterous and cheerful Avenger was spending his time in the low lighting of a dive bar. After all that time he hardly moved, and the untouched beer in his grasp had lost its bubbles.

And then, once the girls were ready to retire, you waved them goodbye at their cab before following your legs back inside. You were going to stay a while.

You were pulled by an invisible string and made a beeline to the bar top instead of the table you were at before. You weren’t surprised to find Thor watching you as you sat next to him.

“You know, this is where I come when I’m trying to get away from work.”

Your jovial grin was met with a lazy, temperate smile of his own.

You could thank the tequila thrumming in your veins to get the nerve to walk on over to him. Better yet, you did it without batting an eye.

Thor turned from the bar, opening his stature to you.

“Should I go, lady Y/N?”

If you were taken back from the sound of your name on his lips he would have seen it in a heartbeat.

“No, no.” You assured him a little too quickly. If he noticed it he didn’t say anything. “Aren’t you supposed to be at some big party?”

He smirked, his eyes not leaving your own.

“Aren’t you?”

His tease was laced with mirth. Your smile mimicked his own.

“Sometimes it is nice to not have to dress up.” Thor offered lightly, turning to see you head on. “Or put on a face.”

Not for a single, solitary moment did you think that he had been putting on a face.

You would have expected the quiet, smoldering expression from his brother, but not from Thor. He was always so charming and warm.

“It must have been a busy week. I can imagine your line of work has gotten rather difficult.” He continued, popping your bubble of watching him. “It is what you do, yes? The study of life?”

He had interrupted your thoughts entirely.

Were you blushing? Or was the heat from the liquor?

You nodded with a bubbling grin.

“You are correct.”

But how did he know?

“What are you drinking tonight, my lady?” He asked gently, changing the subject altogether. “Shall I fetch you another?”

You bit your lip to stop from smiling like a bashful mess. He was ever the gentleman. Could you use another drink?

Yes, absolutely.

“I’ve been drinking margaritas.” You grinned, still feeling the liquor swimming through your veins. “How about you? Is this not a good beer?”

You tapped on the side of his beer glass. It had remained untouched, the head bubbling down to nothing.

“I used to have an affinity for ale,” He exhaled with a smirk. “But now I prefer the stronger stuff.”

His hand grazed the counter before reaching into his pocket. Pulling out a thick, curved flask to prove his point he looked at the barkeep once before looking back down to you.

The bartender didn’t notice.

With a pop from the corked lid Thor let out a hefty exhale before bringing it up to his lips.

The heavy stare he had on you was broken by a playful wink.

After a long, drawn out sip from the flask he flashed a cheshire expression. His lips were faintly painted in the dark, rich liquor.

You weren’t sure if it was the drink or the lights overhead, but Thor’s eyes looked darker than before.  His eyes were glued to your own as he offered the flask to you.

“It is much better than the stale beer.” He ensured, leaning in.

He was so large that he could have been a moment away from closing you in against the bar.

Slow, salacious thoughts muddled your mind.

“So how about it? Just a taste.”

His honeyed words melted into your skin and his knees bumped against your own. Your fingers were tingling, blindly caressing his as you took the flask.

It couldn’t hurt, you bargained. His words resonated within you.

Just a taste.

You tipped the flask back gently. The drink was thick and rich, like a bitter wine. The lingering metal taste made your nose scrunch up, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

In fact, after the first sip you found yourself going back for more.

You were so distracted by the taste you didn’t even register the way that Thor brushed his fingers across your cheek.

And then he gently pulled the flask from your grasp.

He was watching you again with a satisfied grin, brushing his thumb across the stray liquor on your lips. Thor was purposeful as he dragged it back to his own, his tongue lapping at his finger.

Your eyes had moved, following the trail of his tongue against his teeth.

Damn.

Was it getting hot in there?

You exhaled, letting the feel of the liquor burn through you.

You felt good. So good in fact. Your body was buzzing.

That must have been some strong stuff.

The margarita was long forgotten as you turned back to the God of Thunder. He was watching you with a newfound vigor.

“It was good?” He goaded lightly.

You agreed easily with a nod, leaning against the bar. “Very good.”

His hum of content made you preen.

You leaned in closer. Just a little bit, you thought, but your body had other plans.

As did his.

And then before you registered the tug in your chest you were almost on top of him. Thor’s earlier words reverberated through your head and sent a flare of heat through your body.

Just a taste.

Maybe he wasn’t talking about the drink. He steadied you, pulling you flush against him so that you were out of your own bar stool and into his lap.

Oh, he definitely didn’t mean the drink.

A surge of confidence swept through you. You needed to get closer to him. You wanted to taste him. And so you took the lead, kissing the God of Thunder with all of your might.

His low groan sounded more like a growl in your ears and you smirked against his lips. He wanted this as much as you. Maybe even more.

His tongue scavenged against your own, and the lingering taste of the wine sent you into a frenzy.

Thor’s hand was cupping your face and the other was flush against the small of your back. You weren’t going anywhere.

And it was only when he pulled back did you realize you were out of breath. Thick and heavy, air was coming back to you in slow waves. How long were you two entwined?

Thor looked pleased and not even the least bit winded.

But his lips were bruised and pink, and he licked his lips when he found you staring.

No one could blame you. He was beautiful.

He was almost too beautiful.

It was alarming. Something was wrong.

You noticed that his eyes weren’t only darker, but they were sharper too. All of his features were. Thor was strong and broad and unbelievably attractive. He always was. You could just see it a different way now.

The lights overhead looked a little brighter. You could hear the low buzz of the fluorescents overhead.

Closer still, you could smell his cologne. Thor smelled like rain storms and rust.

You never noticed it before.

That was some strong stuff.

Your heart was pounding in your ears.

“I-” You hesitated, looking around the bar.

Reason came back, and embarrassment had riddled through you. You kissed Thor. You kissed a prince.

You kissed him like a fool in the middle of the bar. And you wanted to do it again. If that wasn’t an HR problem you didn’t know what was. So you tried to pull back, but his grip was sturdy.

“I’m sorry, Thor. It’s getting late.” You tried to reason. “I better go.”

But he didn’t let you go. His hand was still there, strong and hard against your back.

A peal of thunderous laughter made your skin prick in an unexplainable warmth.

“Are you running away, my lady?” Thor asked gently, stroking circles along your back.

You took a moment to compose yourself. You knew that you really didn’t want to leave. He must have seen the battle waging war behind your eyes.

“Then why would you fight or try to deny the way that you feel?”

The question danced on Thor’s tongue so casually that you had to shake away the urge to melt into his arms. He was just that close, close enough to steal away at your senses again.

“And how would you know how I feel?” You asked in a whisper, bracing your hands on his shoulders.

Your cat and mouse movement was only met with the slow, cheshire grin that dissolved any comfort you felt in his arms. You had never seen him this way. This wasn’t the Thor you knew at all.

“I know more than you think.” He grinned again, brushing a hair from your face. “Let’s go home.”

The tug in the back of your mind was stronger now, and it wasn’t until you found yourself back at your apartment, locking the door behind you that you came back to your senses.

You didn’t remember leaving the bar or calling a cab. You didn’t remember walking up to your third floor apartment.  

You couldn’t recall fishing in your purse for your keys or inviting him in, but Thor was there, offering you another one of his jovial grins.

“Thor?” You asked carefully, trying to make heads or tails of what happened.

You turned on the light next to the door and physically groaned. It was too bright. You turned it back off as quickly as you could.

Your head felt dizzy, and before you could lose your footing he was there again, holding you tight.

Thor was gentle and strong, and you let your eyes close for a moment.

He smelled so good. It comforted you, and you felt when he pulled you up and into his arms. You felt it when Thor kissed the crown of your head.

In the dark he led you past the kitchen and into the bedroom, and set you down at the end of the bed.

“Thor, what happened?” You dared to whisper, taking off your shoes one at a time.

You were moving with hesitance. Thor watched you carefully as you brought a hand to your face. You were worried, and he could feel it.

“I must apologize, Y/N. I forget how quickly the effects set in.”

You blinked at him once with a frown.

The effects.

A tremor of disdain went down your back as you stared at the Asgardian.

Even in the dark you could see him perfectly clear. If you focused hard enough you could have counted his eyelashes or the amount of stubble on his cheeks.

It was unnerving to say the least.

“I think you should leave.”

Your words were not as confident as you hoped.

You could feel the shallow rise and fall of your chest and the blood pumping in your ears. Your adrenaline must have been kicking in.

But Thor didn’t make any attempt to move. In fact, he took a step towards you and crouched down to eye level.

“I don’t think that will help, Y/N.”

His hand gently rested on your knee and he stroked it affectionately.

You hated it. You hated just how quickly you were sinking into his little touches, how nice it felt.

But you shook your head.

“I’ll wait it out.” You insisted. “I’ll go to bed. I must have had too much to drink.”

You tried to rationalize it.

You must have been having a bad reaction to mixing the wine and tequila.  Not only that, but it was late, far later than you should have been out for. You had worked long hours all week long, and now all of it was stacking up against you.

Thor stole your attention from the sound of your name from his lips, and then he leaned in so that you were nose to nose.

“Sleep won’t help either.” He brushed off against your lips. “Here, let me help you.”

His voice was low and you could feel the rumble of his words reverberating against you. Thor settled between your legs with a vision of his own as your eyes snapped up to him.

His hands, always warm to the touch, were colder as they firmly held to your thighs. He was pushing you back against the bedspread and you held your breath as he hovered over you. You were trapped in the center of the bed.

The cunning smirk on Thor’s lips rivaled that of his brother’s and you stood before a man you were seeing with new eyes.

Yellow, glowing eyes.

“Thor -”

“I like the chase my lady, I do, but I have been on the hunt for a long time.”

And he kissed you again. The initial shock was swallowed up as he captured your tongue, teeth against teeth, in a wicked kiss.

His touch was poisonous. You were sinking into him, the tension in your arms and legs dissolving as Thor coaxed sweet groans from your lips.

Your fight was replaced with just how earnest you were to feel him.

He nipped at your lips and you matched his movements, albeit a little too much.

In your excitement you broke the skin. You didn’t even realize you did it until Thor drew back for a breath, a satisfied smirk making its way to his face.

The metallic smell hit your nose and your eyes snapped up to his lips before a faint mewl bubbled past your lips.

Thor watched your confusion erupt into something darker. Something primal.

And who was he to deny you what you needed?

He swiped at the little incision on his lip with his tongue and watched your bewitched expression before lowering himself again. You stilled, but only for a moment as you tasted the familiar elixir he had given you.

It made your eyes roll back in bliss.

You lapped at his lips and his jaw and his neck. You were completely enthralled by him.

“See my lady, you can’t fool me.” Thor pulled back smugly, growling against the skin of your neck. He left slow, intentional kisses there, focusing on the delicate spot. “Your body has other plans.”

A lingering tug on your mind left you blissfully dazed. You were keening up into him, grabbing at his shoulders and back.

In the back of your mind, the last bit holding on to lucidity, there was a subtle disdain for your Asgardian. You knew something wasn’t right.

It took a moment to put the pieces back together.

That wasn’t wine he gave you to drink back at the bar.

It was blood. It was Thor’s blood.

“What did you do to me?”

Your words were hardly a whisper over the thrumming of your heart and the weight of Thor on top of you. You had nowhere to go, nowhere to run.

And when he kissed again at the apex of your neck it was different. You knew it. He knew it. And he hovered above you with a gentle caress.

“Only what was meant to happen.”

The sharp sting of his canines against your pulse was the last thing you remembered before Thor carried you off into the night.

1 - The Magician - Loki Laufeyson