#kitkats500

Allie Thompson felt the strap of her carryon bag dig into the palm of her hand as she let her eyes roam over the customs hall at JFK. The large room was filled nearly to the brim with tired, bored, and antsy people, all waiting in a queue that seemed never ending. She cursed herself yet again for not buying a rolling carryon. Never thought you’d need it, did you, Thompson?

 The trip had been impulsive. Stupidly, recklessly impulsive. Allie had to keep reassuring herself that she was only taking up Tom’s offer to have her come and see him (and the city). In the nearly two months since he’d come New York he’d tried everything he could seemingly think of to convince Allie to throw caution to the wind and stay with him, if only for a short while. And each and every time she’d turned him down. Not out of a lack of desire (she missed him far more than she was willing to admit to anyone least of all herself), but for various (and frustratingly valid as far as she was concerned) reasons. The office was short staffed, she’d just gotten a promotion at work and asking for the time off wouldn’t reflect well on her next appraisal, the flight was more than she could afford at the time (despite saving up what she could out of each pay).

 Tom had offered, repeatedly, to let him pay her airfare and each time Allie told him she couldn’t accept. It was pride more than anything which kept her from doing so, they both knew it, but more than that, she didn’t feel right having him spend money on her. Not that much. Not when she couldn’t repay him for such generosity. It didn’t feel right, taking his money no matter how freely he seemed to offer it. Allie knew that Tom suspected that was a large part of her refusal and hadn’t fought her on it. At least not as much as she knew he wanted to; she could hear it plainly in his voice each time they spoke.

 Now here she was, standing in this stupidly long queue wondering for the thousandth time if she was making a horrid mistake in coming. Her back twinged irritatingly and she rocked herself back and forth on the balls of her feet hoping to ease some of the tension. Why hadn’t she thought to throw her heating pad into her bag before she’d left? Thank god she hadn’t gotten sick on the plane; the frequent nausea and vomiting that had taken over her life in the last few weeks had been bad enough in the privacy of her flat or the toilets at work. On a speeding metal tube in what felt like a coffin...The idea didn’t bear thinking.

 Everything in her life had changed so suddenly. One moment she was trying to juggle her work life with the long distance strain of a still very new and tentative relationship. The next she was sitting in the bathroom staring blankly at a small pink plus sign and trying to remember how to breathe. Panic had been one of the first things that registered. Things with Tom were still so new. So tentative. They’d been together barely seven months. Too soon. Way, way too soon.

 The next thing she’d done once the shock and panic had worn off was call the local family clinic and book an appointment for bloodwork and the necessary testing. Before she brought Tom’s world to a halt, she had to be certain it wasn’t a fluke. They’d been able to fit her in the following day, for which she’d been grateful. Her manager had let her have the morning off after commenting she’d looked a bit peaky regardless.

 Sitting on the crinkled paper that covered the cushioned exam table, Allie felt her stomach roil. She’d only half listened to the information the doctor discussed with her; taking in that she was indeed pregnant and a little over three months gone. She’d taken the paper the doctor had handed her along with the packet of vitamins with shaking hands. This was real. It was happening and even with the paperwork in hand Allie still couldn’t make sense of it.

 With an air of calm which she didn’t fully feel, Allie had made her way home and grabbed the luggage she’d bought for a holiday she’d taken with friends years back and packed the first pieces of clothing her hands touched. She wasn’t sure when she’d made the conscious decision to tell him in person (this wasn’t something she felt could be done over the phone no matter how she feared the potential outcome) but somewhere between her leaving the clinic and walking up the stairs to her flat, she’d known.  

 The phone call to Luke hadn’t been as awkward as she’d feared. They’d met a few times and had gotten on well enough. He’d been quite up front with her about the realities of being in a relationship with someone like Tom and made sure she understood more or less what she was potentially getting herself into. With the same breath he welcomed her to the madness. She found she liked his frankness and how he clearly cared for Tom not just as a client but as a friend. Luke had been all too eager to help her arrange her impromptu trip, making sure Tom’s people in New York were aware of her pending arrival. She’d asked him to make sure Tom didn’t know she was coming. Luke had laughed, “This is going to be such a fantastic surprise for him, you don’t want to know how much he’s been whinging about missing you.”

 Allie had laughed along with Luke, ignoring the twisting in her gut. It would certainly be a surprise but she hadn’t a clue if either Tom or Luke (when push came to shove, Luke would need to be told and that was nearly as terrifying as telling Tom) would consider it a good one. Pushing those thoughts aside she’d booked a nonstop flight from Heathrow to JFK and cleared the week she’d need with her boss (which hadn’t been the most pleasant conversation).

 The flight had thankfully been uneventful though she’d hardly slept the entire way. And not for lack of trying. Her mind wouldn’t seem to shut off, playing over and over again the various (and most often unpleasant) reaction awaiting her in New York. The lack of sleep was something she was most certainly paying for now. God, what she wouldn’t give for a hot shower and sleep. But that she feared would not be for a long while yet.

 What felt like hours later, Allie found herself at the front of the queue handing her passport to the stony-faced customs agent and answering the questions asked of her. Who was she here to see? Her boyfriend (the word still felt odd) who was working in the States. How long would she be staying? Maybe a week. She waited with baited breath as the agent looked first at her, then at the passport before stamping it and handing it back to her with a monotone,  “Welcome to New York.”

 Stamped passport in hand, she made her way towards the baggage claim. Once she’d grabbed her rolling case (and made a mad dash for the nearest toilet, the nausea had decided now would be a spectacular time to make its reappearance. Thank god she’d kept the amenity kit in her purse so she could clean her teeth after), Allie made her way into the arrivals hall proper and scanned the crowd. Luke had insisted on setting up transport from the airport to Tom’s temporary dwelling and despite a string of protests refused to budge on the issue. The man was just as, if not more, stubborn than Tom and fighting him on anything was nothing short of an exercise in futility.

 She spotted a tall man dressed in a pair dark trousers, matching jacket, and white button-up shirt holding a sign bearing her name standing towards the back of the waiting crowd. He smiled politely at her as she approached and offered to take her bags. Allie thought for a moment of protesting but banished the thought almost at once. The man (whose name was Frank, she’d learned later) was simply doing his job and she had no right to make it difficult for him to do so (even if she was quiet capable of wrangling her own baggage). Quietly, the pair made their way from the noisy hall and out into the bright sunlight of the afternoon. She was ushered into the waiting black SUV as Frank took her luggage round the back and placed it in the boot.

 The car was quite nice, Allie noted with a tired sigh as she settled herself onto the supple leather of the backseat. Far nicer than the battered Nissan Micra she had back home; a holdover from her university days that she’s scrimped and saved for. It wasn’t much to look at but it was reliable and that was honestly all that mattered. She hardly used it anyhow, mainly just when she left the city to visit family or simply escape from the hustle and bustle of it all. She rested her head back against the smooth headrest and allowed her eyes to flutter closed. God, she was tired. Just a few moments, she told herself. I’ll just rest my eyes for a few moments.

 Allie jolted awake at the feel of a hand on her shoulder. Blinking in confusion, she let her gaze roam over her surroundings; the dimly lit interior of an SUV and the sounds of a city echoing from its opened door. New York, her brain finally chimed in. I’m in New York. Tom. And just like that she was suddenly awake. The familiar nerves roared to life once more as just why she’d come flooded back into her conscious thoughts.

 “Sorry,” she murmured to Frank who’d gotten out of the car and come around to wake her. “I must have dozed off.”

 “It’s fine,” he answered with a knowing smile, “You looked like you needed it.”

 Allie nodded quietly and slid from the backseat out onto the pavement. Her eyes drifted upwards, taking in the buildings surrounding them. She’d seen New York countless times in films and on television but it was quite odd actually being there. The building they’d parked beside was massively tall, covered in faded tan brick, painted brick she noted on closer inspection. The glass door reflected the bright sunlight, obscuring her view inside. Smiling softly, she took the handle of her bag, which Frank had placed beside her and took a deep breath before following him inside.

 She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the lobby. The wheels of her checked bag echoed as they rolled across the tiled floor towards the lifts at the far end of the hall. The wall beside the door lined with several metal letter boxes each labeled with what Allie assumed were flat numbers. She’d known from her various calls with Tom that rather than staying in a hotel for the duration of the play, he’d opted at renting a furnished flat in a building close enough to the theater to be walkable but far enough away that it hopefully would be off of most enthusiastic fans radars. While a hotel would be more convenient in terms of cleaning and meals (there was certainly something to be said about room service, he’d confessed), having his own space and privacy won out. And she was eternally grateful for that now. Especially if things ended badly. Less prying eyes and whispered voices in a private dwelling. More of a chance she could make a quiet, dignified retreat if needed.

 Shaking the negative thoughts away, Allie followed Frank into the lift. They arrived on the tenth floor moments later and she allowed him to lead the way towards a darkly stained wooden door at the end of the hall. Frank pulled a key from his pocket and made swift work of the lock, pushing the door open. Sunlight poured in through the opened curtains, flooding the flat with bright light. He stood aside to let her enter, handing her the key as she passed.

 “This is yours for the time being. He should be back sometime in the next hour or so. Make yourself at home.” He smiled and took his leave.

 Allie closed the door firmly behind him, locked it, and leant back against it, taking a deep breath. She was here and now all she could do was wait for his return. With effort, she pushed herself up and allowed herself to glance around the flat’s open planned living room stroke kitchen. It was minimally, but comfortably, furnished with richly stained wooden tables and an inviting black fabric couch. Books lined the coffee and side tables and pendant lighting hung down from the ceiling. The room wasn’t terribly tidy; there were a pair of trainers laying haphazardly on their side near the short hallway which she assumed led on to the sleeping area and bathroom and various bits and bobs scattered over the backs of chairs. Several toys she recognized as Bobby’s lay strewn across the wooden floor.

 The kitchen was small, but functional. Bright white uppers paired with darker base cabinets and a neutral stone countertop. There was a stainless steel gas range with a matching microwave above and a large fridge beside it. The sink was deep and stainless steel as well. A coffee press and toaster were arranged against the back of the counter alongside a small electric kettle. Allie chuckled softly to herself as her eyes lingered on the bowl and mug left sitting on the counter next to the sink.

 Leaving her bags tucked beside the couch, Allie made her way into the kitchen and set to tidying up. It was silly, and something she knew she absolutely did not need to do, but it gave her something to do with her hands and seemed to quiet the small, nagging voice of doubt in her head. She cleaned when she felt anxious or uneasy; Allie couldn’t say why other than it gave her something she could have control over. Tom seemed to find it amusing, stating he knew when something was up by how spotless her place was…And sometimes by how spotless his was.

 Allie let out a quiet groan; Tom would know in an instant something wasn’t quite right, even through the shock of her surprise arrival. Even distracted, Tom was sharp when it came to detail. It was part of what made him so damned good at his chosen field. However, there was nothing to do for it now. Setting to work, Allie grabbed the plate and mug, placing them in the sink and turning on the hot tap. She had to rummage to find the washing up liquid and a sponge; how it had managed to get wedged in the very back of the cupboard under the sink she’d never understand. From there she let herself get lost in the heat of the water and the repetitiveness of the task.

 Once the dishes were cleaned and put away, she forced herself to walk back into the living room and settle on the couch. Ignoring the temptation to straighten, if only for its ability to help her keep hold of her nerves, Allie forced herself instead to pick up the remote from the top off the darkly stained wooden coffee table and turn on the television. There wasn’t a great deal to choose from, which wasn’t surprising given it was early afternoon in the middle of the week, a handful of daytime chat shows and several daytime dramas. Sighing, she settled on one of the chat shows not caring overmuch what was happening on screen. She half listened as the women settled around a table chatting about the latest bit of celebrity news, her eyes drifting shut once more. Gods above, she was tired.

 The sound of a key turning in the lock jolted Allie awake. She sat bolt upright on the couch, blinking rapidly at the disorientation before, and quickly switched off the television, dropping the remote back onto the table. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face the door. Through the thick wood she could hear Bobby’s muffled barks and the soothing timbre of Tom’s voice in response. She felt her heart hammering in her chest as she watched the knob turn and the door push slowly open.

 A blur of brown swept into the apartment, loud barks echoing as the spaniel darted inside and towards Allie. He buried his face into her knees before bouncing up and attempting to bury her face in kisses.

 Startled, Tom rushed in yelling, “What in the world…” His voice trailed off as his eyes settled on Allie laughing and squirming on the couch beneath an overly excited Bobby.

 Pushing the spaniel off, Allie locked her eyes on Tom’s wide, startled gaze. “Hi,” she whispered, pushing her hair out of her face to see him clearly.

 “You’re here,” Tom breathed, taking several slow steps into the flat, letting the door swing closed behind him. “You’re actually here.”

 Allie nodded. “I’m here.”

 Tom dropped the bag he’d been carrying on his shoulder to the floor and launched himself at her, a wide smile on his face. With a yelp of startlement, Allie fell backwards onto the couch, Tom’s warm weight pressing her firmly into the cushions. She let out a breathless laugh as she found herself wrapped tightly in his arms. He pressed his lips to her forehead, her cheeks, and finally her lips. Bobby, who’d backed quickly out of the way as his master seemed to take leave of his senses, barked happily before jumping up beside them on the couch and licking both of their faces.

 Pulling back and laughing, Tom shooed the spaniel away. “Enough you furry menace. Off the couch.”  

 Bobby blinked up at Tom before complying with begrudging grace and padding to his own doggy bed. He grabbed the red, stuffed toy that lay beside the bed and chewed it while watching them with wide, sad eyes.

 Tom shook his head, pulling himself up into a sitting position and turned his attention immediately back towards Allie who did the same. “I can’t believe you’re actually here. When did you…Why didn’t you say you were coming?”

 Allie pulled back, feeling the familiar dread cooling once more in her stomach. She crossed her arms in front of her. “It was kind of a last minute thing,” she answered, honestly. “I called Luke and…”

 Tom let out a short, loud laugh and shook his head. “No wonder the wanker looked so smug this morning…He knew you’d be here.”

 She shrugged. “I asked him not to say anything.”

 “And he certainly didn’t,” Tom laughed. “I hadn’t the faintest idea.” He pulled Allie tightly against him and kissed her head once more. “I’m so happy you’re here,” he repeated again and she could feel his smile against her hair. “I’ve missed you.”

 “I missed you too.”

 And she had, desperately. It felt wonderful, being in his arms again. The comforting heat and weight of him against her was like coming home. It scared her, just how much this man had come to mean to her in such a relatively short amount of time. And now…

 Reluctantly, Allie pulled back reaching up to take Tom’s hands in her own. It was tempting, sorely tempting to say nothing…Just for a little while. To bask in the simple joy of being back with the man she loved. However, she knew it would only be delaying the inevitable. He needed to know, whatever the outcome. Any delaying techniques would be just that, it wouldn’t fix or change anything.

 Tom met her eyes, confusion shining steadily in his own at her second disengagement in just as many minutes. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

 Allie swallowed against the lump in her throat. She’d spent most of the flight over thinking of just what to say; how to tell him that in a few short months there would be another person in their lives. Over and over again, she had agonized over her wording, her timing, his reaction. All of it. And it wasn’t as if she feared he’d lose it completely and chuck her out, she’d known Tom well enough to understand he wouldn’t do something like that, but that didn’t mean he’d embrace the news with open arms.

 The timing was terrible; he had projects lined up well into the following year. How could he possibly juggle the demands of impending fatherhood when he’d barely be around? How could she ask him to? They’d only been together seven months, and the last two of those there had been an ocean between them. There we so many reasons for this to be the thing that would sink them; Allie knew that. Having a baby didn’t guarantee a successful relationship or a relationship in general. Tom could very easily walk away, she didn’t think he would deny the child, but he could choose to minimize his presence in their lives. And while Allie knew she could, and would, handle raising this child on her own if she had to, it wasn’t ideal. She wanted Tom to be involved, to be beside her through it all. The ball was ever so firmly in his court with this and it terrified her.

 “Allie,” Tom pleaded, reaching down to take her hand and squeezing her hands with his own. “Talk to me, please. Whatever it is we’ll mange it. Talk to me.”

 He sounded so sure, so confident, and she wanted nothing more than to believe him. But the fear was still there, still clinging to her like a second skin.

 She swallowed hard, shutting her eyes tightly before raising them to his once more. “I’m pregnant.”

 The words fell from her lips in almost a whisper. Had it not been for the way his eyes widened at the words or his slackened grip, Allie could have convinced herself he hadn’t heard them. She pulled her hands back into her lap and fought the urge to stare down at them rather than at Tom.

 “You’re pregnant?” Tom whispered, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. A silence, which felt as if it were choking the life from her. His words did little to calm the racing of her heart. The tone of them wasn’t censorious nor were they exactly welcoming. Unease and disappoint roared within her.  

 Allie nodded, not trusting her voice.

 “Pregnant,” he murmured again, as if he were trying to make sense of it. Another long pause before he uttered, “How far?”

 Her eyes fell from his.

 “A little over three months,” she answered, “according to the scans.” Her hand rested unconsciously against her abdomen and she could feel his eyes on her. She couldn’t raise her own to meet them. She didn’t want to see the disapproval or disappointment in them. Too soon. This is all too soon.

 “So just before…” His voice trailed off.

 The last few weeks before he’d headed to New York had been filled with stolen moments. At his place. At hers. There had been something to the idea that it could be months before she would get to touch him, to feel him, that had driven Allie (and Tom it seemed) to what felt like desperation. They’d been careful, or so she’d thought. Clearly they hadn’t been careful enough. She wondered idly just when they’d slipped up and if he was wondering as well.

 Allie nodded. “Yes.”

 Tom ran a hand through his shaggy hair but didn’t say anything further. She took a deep breath, steeling herself. “The timing is horrendous, I know. And I get that it’s way too soon and neither of us are ready for this…” She was rambling and she knew it but the need to explain was overwhelming her ability to think and speak rationally. “You don’t have to be involved, I won’t think ill of you for not…”

 Tom’s hand rested firmly on her knee, silencing her. He took a slow, deep breath before speaking. “Do you want this?”

 She blinked at him, the words not making any sort of sense to her already sleep-starved, panicked mind. “Wha-what?” She stammered back, confusion coloring her tone, “I don’t know what…”

 He squeezed her knee with a firm gentleness she hadn’t expected. “Having a baby is a big thing,” he started, his eyes locked on her face as if he were studying her. “It’s life changing. For you more than anything. Yes, the timing isn’t ideal for either of us. And I know that you’re scared of what I’m thinking and feeling. But Allie…I don’t want you to worry about what you think I want or what anyone else will say. This is, first and foremost, your life and as such it is your choice. I will respect whatever it is you want. So please tell me,” Tom locked his eyes on hers. “Allie, do you want this?”

 A million different thoughts flooded through her mind. She was scared; scared she wasn’t ready, scared she’d be a crap mum, scared he’d walk away and she’d be left alone. But along with that fear was the small, bright, stubborn fragment of hope. She wanted this baby, wanted Tom to want it too. Even though this couldn’t have happened at a worse time. Sense, it seemed, mattered not. She wanted this. Wanted it fiercely.

 Wordlessly, she nodded.

 Tom’s face split into a warm, bright smile and he reached out, placing his hand gently against the, as of yet, non-existent curve of her abdomen. “We’re having a baby.”

 Allie laughed, feeling her eyes prickle with relieved tears. “We are.”

1)“Wanna get married for the gifts and the tax breaks?”

2) “Can we cuddle?” @fyrecrafted w/ Loki

3) “Is the cat in a onesie?” “Uh, no?

4) “You’re teasing me again…”

5) “The nights still young.” @catsladen w/ Tom Hiddles 

6) “Are you hitting on me?”

7) “Is that a new perfume?” @voila-tout w/ Loki

8) “Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”  

9) “I’m too sober for this.” “You don’t even drink.” “Maybe I should start.” @hopelessromanticspoonie w/ Loki

10) “I wish we could live together already.”

11) “Did you do something different with your hair?” @finchbaggins W/ Tom Hiddleston x ofc 

12) “You’re so beautiful.”

13) “Stop being such a goddamn baby.”

14) “I’m pregnant.” @winterisakiller Tom hiddles x ofc

16)“ Car sex looks so much easier in the movies.” @just-the-hiddles w/ Tom Hiddles

17) “Already? Do I really have that much of an effect on you?”

18) “Are you hurt?” “No.” “Then why are there bruises all over your face?” @nonsensicalobsessions w/ Loki

19) “It always comes back to this with you, doesn’t it?” @nildespirandum w/ Loki

20) “You know what? I was wrong. You never really meant anything to me. You’re broken, you’re beyond fixing, you’re not something I want to take the time to handle. Simple as that.” @xoxabs88xox w/ undecided  (Oh my god, this one has all the angsty potential I can’t waiiiiit)

Situations:

21) We’re brushing our teeth together and I’m struck by the thought that we look good together in the mirror. @myoxisbroken w/ Loki (Completed)

22) I’ve become so accustomed to touching each other that I don’t even realize we’re constantly doing it until we’re alone and you apologize @toozmanykids with Oakley 

23) Sending funny photos to make you laugh when I know you’re with people

24)I’m pretty sure we’ve been flirting for the last five minutes and I’m pretty sure I don’t want it to end

She swallowed, and did as she was bid without hesitation, even as her mind spun like a child’s toy gone berserk with madness. “You’ll be safe,” she chanted to herself fiercely. “Safe-safe-safe. No one has ever left His presence telling tales of brutality. You know how to do as you are told. You’ve done so since you were a child. In these matters as in all things. You can do this.”

“It’s your eyes, little one. The way you look up at me...the way I can tell you long to please me, your perfect obedience. I won’t have to chastise you, will I? No. You simply...desire...to please me.” His voice dropped to a seductive purr, even as he held her chin firmly, forcing her to maintain eye contact that was uncomfortable for her. “I can tell, you desire to look away, but you have not yet, for I yet to give you permission. But it goes against your nature, does it not, to look into my eyes? You are unaccustomed to doing so for this long. Which is a pity. You may look down now.” With a grateful shudder she did so, and Loki released her chin, only to begin stroking her back. “My sweet little Dove. We are going to have so much fun together, you and I. Because you will do as I command, and I will enjoy every moment of it...and by the Nine, so will you.”

He set her down, and as he circled around her, his eyes narrowed. “Are you hurt?”

“No, Sire.”

His voice deepened, as impossible as it seemed. “Are those...bruises...on your face?”

“Please,” she whispered desperately, “please don’t ask me that, please don’t make me answer that, my King...”

“Ah, but I am, and you must.”

She closed her eyes as she opened her mouth.

“Open your eyes and look at me as you answer,” he immediately demanded.

As always, she complied without delay. “Yes, Sire.”

“So, yes, those are bruises.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“So yes, you are hurt, and you lied to me.”

“They don’t hurt anymore, Sire.”

“We will parse the nature of your truth-telling in a moment, pet...for now, tell me: who dared raise their hand, their fists, to you?” As his temper rose, the temperature in the room dropped, and she shivered, partly in fear, partly in response to the chill in the air.

“I’m not with him anymore, Your Majesty, I left, I ran away...!” Tears began to trickle from her eyes. “I promise you, I’m free to be with whomever I choose...!”

“Oh, little one...” He forced himself to calm down, seeing how his rage evoked such fear in her. “I am not wroth with you. Do you not know how I can see there is no real falsity in you? Oh, yes, there will be consequences for your trying to hide your pain, but I know well you are no deceiver. I simply would know who would hurt a woman such as yourself. What manner of...worm, wearing the guise of a man, would strike you? To what purpose?” He gathered her shaking form in his embrace, and warmed her. “Hush, now. Feel my arms round you. You are mine now, and you are safe. Never will I mark your lovely face. Never, ever fear me, do you understand? Not in such a manner. I may rage about. I lose my temper. I sulk. I am not always easy to be with, I know this well...but oh, my dear one.” He tipped her face up, and kissed her lips softly, stroking her hair. “I will please you. I will make you smile, and laugh, and you will never have to worry about a rival, or being cast aside. You are safe, for as long as you wish to remain, and the choice is always yours.”

He felt the tension begin to float away from her tiny frame, as though she was being purified simply from being held so tenderly. He extended his healing seidr, as carefully as he could, so she would not feel any sting as the blood collected under her skin began to fade away. He did not wish to see any remnants of past harsh treatment when he looked at her again.

“His name, darling,” he purred. “So that I may ensure he does not try to regain access to my Treasure again, once he realizes what he has lost through his folly.”

Feeling soothed, feeling secure, she answered. It made sense. Her previous lover could never make up his mind from moment to moment, which was one of the reasons she was perpetually confused by him. He wanted her, he didn’t, he loved her, he tolerated her, he despised her...if he caught wind that someone else, someone with power, influence, and wealth found her desirable, it wasn’t beyond the pale that he would suddenly decide he wanted her back, as well. It mattered not who the Someone was. And she could tell that wouldn’t suit Loki, at all, to find her past suddenly become her present once more.

Anyone could tell Loki wasn’t one to share. And her ex, well...if he couldn’t have what he wanted given to him, he was one to try to take. Hence the state of her face.

Although the current state of her face was being covered with soft kisses, setting her head spinning, as she was being lifted and carried to Loki’s rooms off the throne room, and his bed. She tensed. She wasn’t quite ready for this, although she would be, of course. She had learned this lesson.

“No, no, no,” he spoke, even as the thoughts crossed her mind. “I am not asking anything of you yet, Precious One. You’ve been ill-used, and I would not ask you to trust me yet until you’ve had a chance to recover. What I ask from you now is simply to close your eyes, and rest. Can you do that, my Dearest?”

She nodded, as her head was beginning to feel so heavy, even as he was placing her down on the softest bed she had ever enjoyed. The sheets themselves were like a balm to her aching muscles, the pillows as clouds...she was asleep before her king pulled the heavy silken duvet over her, tucking her in fast.

Loki had no reason to believe his new servant would flee before he returned, but he had not ascended to the throne by being complacent. He had also learned women could quickly have their minds, and hearts, change and turn against him. He felt no guilt about spelling her into a deep slumber. Not that he felt guilt about anything, anymore.

He had fallen in love, before. And he had survived the experience. Barely. But he was not game for a rematch. So he had instituted the position of Bed Maiden, and he selected them with care. One woman chosen at a time. She was always free to leave whenever she desired, with the understanding that once she left, there was no returning to his rooms, or his court. However, his protection was eternal, as long as their parting was amicable. He demanded complete obedience in all matters, and in no instance was he to be questioned. He desired a bedmate, not a partner. A sometimes companion. Not a consort. Certainly not a mother for his eventual heir.

Loki stalked away. Runa, he reminded himself. Her name is Runa.

And his name...won’t matter for much longer.

The dead have no need for names, after all.

Allie Thompson felt the strap of her carryon bag dig into the palm of her hand as she let her eyes roam over the customs hall at JFK. The large room was filled nearly to the brim with tired, bored, and antsy people, all waiting in a queue that seemed never ending. She cursed herself yet again for not buying a rolling carryon. Never thought you’d need it, did you, Thompson?

The trip had been impulsive. Stupidly, recklessly impulsive. Allie had to keep reassuring herself that she was only taking up Tom’s offer to have her come and see him (and the city). In the nearly two months since he’d come New York he’d tried everything he could seemingly think of to convince Allie to throw caution to the wind and stay with him, if only for a short while. And each and every time she’d turned him down. Not out of a lack of desire (she missed him far more than she was willing to admit to anyone least of all herself), but for various (and frustratingly valid as far as she was concerned) reasons. The office was short staffed, she’d just gotten a promotion at work and asking for the time off wouldn’t reflect well on her next appraisal, the flight was more than she could afford at the time (despite saving up what she could out of each pay).

Tom had offered, repeatedly, to let him pay her airfare and each time Allie told him she couldn’t accept. It was pride more than anything which kept her from doing so, they both knew it, but more than that, she didn’t feel right having him spend money on her. Not that much. Not when she couldn’t repay him for such generosity. It didn’t feel right, taking his money no matter how freely he seemed to offer it. Allie knew that Tom suspected that was a large part of her refusal and hadn’t fought her on it. At least not as much as she knew he wanted to; she could hear it plainly in his voice each time they spoke.

Now here she was, standing in this stupidly long queue wondering for the thousandth time if she was making a horrid mistake in coming. Her back twinged irritatingly and she rocked herself back and forth on the balls of her feet hoping to ease some of the tension. Why hadn’t she thought to throw her heating pad into her bag before she’d left? Thank god she hadn’t gotten sick on the plane; the frequent nausea and vomiting that had taken over her life in the last few weeks had been bad enough in the privacy of her flat or the toilets at work. On a speeding metal tube in what felt like a coffin…The idea didn’t bear thinking.

Everything in her life had changed so suddenly. One moment she was trying to juggle her work life with the long distance strain of a still very new and tentative relationship. The next she was sitting in the bathroom staring blankly at a small pink plus sign and trying to remember how to breathe. Panic had been one of the first things that registered. Things with Tom were still so new. So tentative. They’d been together barely seven months. Too soon. Way, way too soon.

The next thing she’d done once the shock and panic had worn off was call the local family clinic and book an appointment for bloodwork and the necessary testing. Before she brought Tom’s world to a halt, she had to be certain it wasn’t a fluke. They’d been able to fit her in the following day, for which she’d been grateful. Her manager had let her have the morning off after commenting she’d looked a bit peaky regardless.

Sitting on the crinkled paper that covered the cushioned exam table, Allie felt her stomach roil. She’d only half listened to the information the doctor discussed with her; taking in that she was indeed pregnant and a little over three months gone. She’d taken the paper the doctor had handed her along with the packet of vitamins with shaking hands. This was real. It was happening and even with the paperwork in hand Allie still couldn’t make sense of it.

With an air of calm which she didn’t fully feel, Allie had made her way home and grabbed the luggage she’d bought for a holiday she’d taken with friends years back and packed the first pieces of clothing her hands touched. She wasn’t sure when she’d made the conscious decision to tell him in person (this wasn’t something she felt could be done over the phone no matter how she feared the potential outcome) but somewhere between her leaving the clinic and walking up the stairs to her flat, she’d known.  

The phone call to Luke hadn’t been as awkward as she’d feared. They’d met a few times and had gotten on well enough. He’d been quite up front with her about the realities of being in a relationship with someone like Tom and made sure she understood more or less what she was potentially getting herself into. With the same breath he welcomed her to the madness. She found she liked his frankness and how he clearly cared for Tom not just as a client but as a friend. Luke had been all too eager to help her arrange her impromptu trip, making sure Tom’s people in New York were aware of her pending arrival. She’d asked him to make sure Tom didn’t know she was coming. Luke had laughed, “This is going to be such a fantastic surprise for him, you don’t want to know how much he’s been whinging about missing you.”

Allie had laughed along with Luke, ignoring the twisting in her gut. It would certainly be a surprise but she hadn’t a clue if either Tom or Luke (when push came to shove, Luke would need to be told and that was nearly as terrifying as telling Tom) would consider it a good one. Pushing those thoughts aside she’d booked a nonstop flight from Heathrow to JFK and cleared the week she’d need with her boss (which hadn’t been the most pleasant conversation).

The flight had thankfully been uneventful though she’d hardly slept the entire way. And not for lack of trying. Her mind wouldn’t seem to shut off, playing over and over again the various (and most often unpleasant) reaction awaiting her in New York. The lack of sleep was something she was most certainly paying for now. God, what she wouldn’t give for a hot shower and sleep. But that she feared would not be for a long while yet.

What felt like hours later, Allie found herself at the front of the queue handing her passport to the stony-faced customs agent and answering the questions asked of her. Who was she here to see? Her boyfriend (the word still felt odd) who was working in the States. How long would she be staying? Maybe a week. She waited with baited breath as the agent looked first at her, then at the passport before stamping it and handing it back to her with a monotone,  “Welcome to New York.”

Stamped passport in hand, she made her way towards the baggage claim. Once she’d grabbed her rolling case (and made a mad dash for the nearest toilet, the nausea had decided now would be a spectacular time to make its reappearance. Thank god she’d kept the amenity kit in her purse so she could clean her teeth after), Allie made her way into the arrivals hall proper and scanned the crowd. Luke had insisted on setting up transport from the airport to Tom’s temporary dwelling and despite a string of protests refused to budge on the issue. The man was just as, if not more, stubborn than Tom and fighting him on anything was nothing short of an exercise in futility.

She spotted a tall man dressed in a pair dark trousers, matching jacket, and white button-up shirt holding a sign bearing her name standing towards the back of the waiting crowd. He smiled politely at her as she approached and offered to take her bags. Allie thought for a moment of protesting but banished the thought almost at once. The man (whose name was Frank, she’d learned later) was simply doing his job and she had no right to make it difficult for him to do so (even if she was quiet capable of wrangling her own baggage). Quietly, the pair made their way from the noisy hall and out into the bright sunlight of the afternoon. She was ushered into the waiting black SUV as Frank took her luggage round the back and placed it in the boot.

The car was quite nice, Allie noted with a tired sigh as she settled herself onto the supple leather of the backseat. Far nicer than the battered Nissan Micra she had back home; a holdover from her university days that she’s scrimped and saved for. It wasn’t much to look at but it was reliable and that was honestly all that mattered. She hardly used it anyhow, mainly just when she left the city to visit family or simply escape from the hustle and bustle of it all. She rested her head back against the smooth headrest and allowed her eyes to flutter closed. God, she was tired. Just a few moments, she told herself. I’ll just rest my eyes for a few moments.

Allie jolted awake at the feel of a hand on her shoulder. Blinking in confusion, she let her gaze roam over her surroundings; the dimly lit interior of an SUV and the sounds of a city echoing from its opened door. New York, her brain finally chimed in. I’m in New York. Tom. And just like that she was suddenly awake. The familiar nerves roared to life once more as just why she’d come flooded back into her conscious thoughts.

“Sorry,” she murmured to Frank who’d gotten out of the car and come around to wake her. “I must have dozed off.”

“It’s fine,” he answered with a knowing smile, “You looked like you needed it.”

Allie nodded quietly and slid from the backseat out onto the pavement. Her eyes drifted upwards, taking in the buildings surrounding them. She’d seen New York countless times in films and on television but it was quite odd actually being there. The building they’d parked beside was massively tall, covered in faded tan brick, painted brick she noted on closer inspection. The glass door reflected the bright sunlight, obscuring her view inside. Smiling softly, she took the handle of her bag, which Frank had placed beside her and took a deep breath before following him inside.

She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the lobby. The wheels of her checked bag echoed as they rolled across the tiled floor towards the lifts at the far end of the hall. The wall beside the door lined with several metal letter boxes each labeled with what Allie assumed were flat numbers. She’d known from her various calls with Tom that rather than staying in a hotel for the duration of the play, he’d opted at renting a furnished flat in a building close enough to the theater to be walkable but far enough away that it hopefully would be off of most enthusiastic fans radars. While a hotel would be more convenient in terms of cleaning and meals (there was certainly something to be said about room service, he’d confessed), having his own space and privacy won out. And she was eternally grateful for that now. Especially if things ended badly. Less prying eyes and whispered voices in a private dwelling. More of a chance she could make a quiet, dignified retreat if needed.

Shaking the negative thoughts away, Allie followed Frank into the lift. They arrived on the tenth floor moments later and she allowed him to lead the way towards a darkly stained wooden door at the end of the hall. Frank pulled a key from his pocket and made swift work of the lock, pushing the door open. Sunlight poured in through the opened curtains, flooding the flat with bright light. He stood aside to let her enter, handing her the key as she passed.

“This is yours for the time being. He should be back sometime in the next hour or so. Make yourself at home.” He smiled and took his leave.

Allie closed the door firmly behind him, locked it, and leant back against it, taking a deep breath. She was here and now all she could do was wait for his return. With effort, she pushed herself up and allowed herself to glance around the flat’s open planned living room stroke kitchen. It was minimally, but comfortably, furnished with richly stained wooden tables and an inviting black fabric couch. Books lined the coffee and side tables and pendant lighting hung down from the ceiling. The room wasn’t terribly tidy; there were a pair of trainers laying haphazardly on their side near the short hallway which she assumed led on to the sleeping area and bathroom and various bits and bobs scattered over the backs of chairs. Several toys she recognized as Bobby’s lay strewn across the wooden floor.

The kitchen was small, but functional. Bright white uppers paired with darker base cabinets and a neutral stone countertop. There was a stainless steel gas range with a matching microwave above and a large fridge beside it. The sink was deep and stainless steel as well. A coffee press and toaster were arranged against the back of the counter alongside a small electric kettle. Allie chuckled softly to herself as her eyes lingered on the bowl and mug left sitting on the counter next to the sink.

Leaving her bags tucked beside the couch, Allie made her way into the kitchen and set to tidying up. It was silly, and something she knew she absolutely did not need to do, but it gave her something to do with her hands and seemed to quiet the small, nagging voice of doubt in her head. She cleaned when she felt anxious or uneasy; Allie couldn’t say why other than it gave her something she could have control over. Tom seemed to find it amusing, stating he knew when something was up by how spotless her place was…And sometimes by how spotless his was.

Allie let out a quiet groan; Tom would know in an instant something wasn’t quite right, even through the shock of her surprise arrival. Even distracted, Tom was sharp when it came to detail. It was part of what made him so damned good at his chosen field. However, there was nothing to do for it now. Setting to work, Allie grabbed the plate and mug, placing them in the sink and turning on the hot tap. She had to rummage to find the washing up liquid and a sponge; how it had managed to get wedged in the very back of the cupboard under the sink she’d never understand. From there she let herself get lost in the heat of the water and the repetitiveness of the task.

Once the dishes were cleaned and put away, she forced herself to walk back into the living room and settle on the couch. Ignoring the temptation to straighten, if only for its ability to help her keep hold of her nerves, Allie forced herself instead to pick up the remote from the top off the darkly stained wooden coffee table and turn on the television. There wasn’t a great deal to choose from, which wasn’t surprising given it was early afternoon in the middle of the week, a handful of daytime chat shows and several daytime dramas. Sighing, she settled on one of the chat shows not caring overmuch what was happening on screen. She half listened as the women settled around a table chatting about the latest bit of celebrity news, her eyes drifting shut once more. Gods above, she was tired.

The sound of a key turning in the lock jolted Allie awake. She sat bolt upright on the couch, blinking rapidly at the disorientation before, and quickly switched off the television, dropping the remote back onto the table. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face the door. Through the thick wood she could hear Bobby’s muffled barks and the soothing timbre of Tom’s voice in response. She felt her heart hammering in her chest as she watched the knob turn and the door push slowly open.

A blur of brown swept into the apartment, loud barks echoing as the spaniel darted inside and towards Allie. He buried his face into her knees before bouncing up and attempting to bury her face in kisses.

Startled, Tom rushed in yelling, “What in the world…” His voice trailed off as his eyes settled on Allie laughing and squirming on the couch beneath an overly excited Bobby.

Pushing the spaniel off, Allie locked her eyes on Tom’s wide, startled gaze. “Hi,” she whispered, pushing her hair out of her face to see him clearly.

“You’re here,” Tom breathed, taking several slow steps into the flat, letting the door swing closed behind him. “You’re actually here.”

Allie nodded. “I’m here.”

Tom dropped the bag he’d been carrying on his shoulder to the floor and launched himself at her, a wide smile on his face. With a yelp of startlement, Allie fell backwards onto the couch, Tom’s warm weight pressing her firmly into the cushions. She let out a breathless laugh as she found herself wrapped tightly in his arms. He pressed his lips to her forehead, her cheeks, and finally her lips. Bobby, who’d backed quickly out of the way as his master seemed to take leave of his senses, barked happily before jumping up beside them on the couch and licking both of their faces.

Pulling back and laughing, Tom shooed the spaniel away. “Enough you furry menace. Off the couch.”  

Bobby blinked up at Tom before complying with begrudging grace and padding to his own doggy bed. He grabbed the red, stuffed toy that lay beside the bed and chewed it while watching them with wide, sad eyes.

Tom shook his head, pulling himself up into a sitting position and turned his attention immediately back towards Allie who did the same. “I can’t believe you’re actually here. When did you…Why didn’t you say you were coming?”

Allie pulled back, feeling the familiar dread cooling once more in her stomach. She crossed her arms in front of her. “It was kind of a last minute thing,” she answered, honestly. “I called Luke and…”

Tom let out a short, loud laugh and shook his head. “No wonder the wanker looked so smug this morning…He knew you’d be here.”

She shrugged. “I asked him not to say anything.”

“And he certainly didn’t,” Tom laughed. “I hadn’t the faintest idea.” He pulled Allie tightly against him and kissed her head once more. “I’m so happy you’re here,” he repeated again and she could feel his smile against her hair. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

And she had, desperately. It felt wonderful, being in his arms again. The comforting heat and weight of him against her was like coming home. It scared her, just how much this man had come to mean to her in such a relatively short amount of time. And now…

Reluctantly, Allie pulled back reaching up to take Tom’s hands in her own. It was tempting, sorely tempting to say nothing…Just for a little while. To bask in the simple joy of being back with the man she loved. However, she knew it would only be delaying the inevitable. He needed to know, whatever the outcome. Any delaying techniques would be just that, it wouldn’t fix or change anything.

Tom met her eyes, confusion shining steadily in his own at her second disengagement in just as many minutes. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Allie swallowed against the lump in her throat. She’d spent most of the flight over thinking of just what to say; how to tell him that in a few short months there would be another person in their lives. Over and over again, she had agonized over her wording, her timing, his reaction. All of it. And it wasn’t as if she feared he’d lose it completely and chuck her out, she’d known Tom well enough to understand he wouldn’t do something like that, but that didn’t mean he’d embrace the news with open arms.

The timing was terrible; he had projects lined up well into the following year. How could he possibly juggle the demands of impending fatherhood when he’d barely be around? How could she ask him to? They’d only been together seven months, and the last two of those there had been an ocean between them. There we so many reasons for this to be the thing that would sink them; Allie knew that. Having a baby didn’t guarantee a successful relationship or a relationship in general. Tom could very easily walk away, she didn’t think he would deny the child, but he could choose to minimize his presence in their lives. And while Allie knew she could, and would, handle raising this child on her own if she had to, it wasn’t ideal. She wanted Tom to be involved, to be beside her through it all. The ball was ever so firmly in his court with this and it terrified her.

“Allie,” Tom pleaded, reaching down to take her hand and squeezing her hands with his own. “Talk to me, please. Whatever it is we’ll mange it. Talk to me.”

He sounded so sure, so confident, and she wanted nothing more than to believe him. But the fear was still there, still clinging to her like a second skin.

She swallowed hard, shutting her eyes tightly before raising them to his once more. “I’m pregnant.”

The words fell from her lips in almost a whisper. Had it not been for the way his eyes widened at the words or his slackened grip, Allie could have convinced herself he hadn’t heard them. She pulled her hands back into her lap and fought the urge to stare down at them rather than at Tom.

“You’re pregnant?” Tom whispered, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. A silence, which felt as if it were choking the life from her. His words did little to calm the racing of her heart. The tone of them wasn’t censorious nor were they exactly welcoming. Unease and disappoint roared within her.  

Allie nodded, not trusting her voice.

“Pregnant,” he murmured again, as if he were trying to make sense of it. Another long pause before he uttered, “How far?”

Her eyes fell from his.

“A little over three months,” she answered, “according to the scans.” Her hand rested unconsciously against her abdomen and she could feel his eyes on her. She couldn’t raise her own to meet them. She didn’t want to see the disapproval or disappointment in them. Too soon. This is all too soon.

“So just before…” His voice trailed off.

The last few weeks before he’d headed to New York had been filled with stolen moments. At his place. At hers. There had been something to the idea that it could be months before she would get to touch him, to feel him, that had driven Allie (and Tom it seemed) to what felt like desperation. They’d been careful, or so she’d thought. Clearly they hadn’t been careful enough. She wondered idly just when they’d slipped up and if he was wondering as well.

Allie nodded. “Yes.”

Tom ran a hand through his shaggy hair but didn’t say anything further. She took a deep breath, steeling herself. “The timing is horrendous, I know. And I get that it’s way too soon and neither of us are ready for this…” She was rambling and she knew it but the need to explain was overwhelming her ability to think and speak rationally. “You don’t have to be involved, I won’t think ill of you for not…”

Tom’s hand rested firmly on her knee, silencing her. He took a slow, deep breath before speaking. “Do you want this?”

She blinked at him, the words not making any sort of sense to her already sleep-starved, panicked mind. “Wha-what?” She stammered back, confusion coloring her tone, “I don’t know what…”

He squeezed her knee with a firm gentleness she hadn’t expected. “Having a baby is a big thing,” he started, his eyes locked on her face as if he were studying her. “It’s life changing. For you more than anything. Yes, the timing isn’t ideal for either of us. And I know that you’re scared of what I’m thinking and feeling. But Allie…I don’t want you to worry about what you think I want or what anyone else will say. This is, first and foremost, your life and as such it is your choice. I will respect whatever it is you want. So please tell me,” Tom locked his eyes on hers. “Allie, do you want this?”

A million different thoughts flooded through her mind. She was scared; scared she wasn’t ready, scared she’d be a crap mum, scared he’d walk away and she’d be left alone. But along with that fear was the small, bright, stubborn fragment of hope. She wanted this baby, wanted Tom to want it too. Even though this couldn’t have happened at a worse time. Sense, it seemed, mattered not. She wanted this. Wanted it fiercely.

Wordlessly, she nodded.

Tom’s face split into a warm, bright smile and he reached out, placing his hand gently against the, as of yet, non-existent curve of her abdomen. “We’re having a baby.”

Allie laughed, feeling her eyes prickle with relieved tears. “We are.”

“Fuck.”

The curse left my lips in a frustrated hiss, and I threw the poppy red beret I’d been trying to style my hair under for the best part of half an hour to the floor. I stared at my reflection in the mirror above the dressing table.

My stupid reflection.

My hideous, god awful, embarrassing, reflection.

You’d think, when you were paying someone a decent amount of money, a professional no less, at a top salon, to restyle your hair, that they might have some idea what they were doing. I’d expected to come out of that salon feeling like a new woman, heaven knows I needed it after the month I’d had.

Work had been hell, what with two people handing in their notice and one of the team had just gone on maternity leave, which meant the number of FTE’s (Full time employees – junior management jargon) was down to just four on my team, and reallocating everyone’s workload’s had kept me tied to the office, sometimes late into the night.

This unusually busy period, and my unforeseen extended hours, had been seemingly the only excuse that Dan – the guy I’d been sort of seeing for almost a year to get bored and find someone else to do his laundry, cook his dinners, and suck his cock.

I wasn’t as upset as I ought to have been, if anything I was relieved. I’d known the guy was a leach and I was better off without him. But somehow being thirty-two and dating him seemed more appealing than being thirty-two and single, going home to an empty flat and microwave meals for one every night.

It had however, been the kick up the backside I needed to get my shit together. Work had finally sorted its self out. I booked a Friday off so I could enjoy a nice long weekend. I enjoyed finding any tiny possession that Dan had left in my little one bed flat, and putting it in a black sack, before hauling it all down to the communal dumpster. Then I’d cashed in on a voucher I’d found on Groupon – Colour and Restyle at Top London Salon – fifty pounds.

That probably should have been my red flag.

But money was tight, and I was determined to push forward with the whole, out with the old and in with the new.

I’d attended the appointment with several images saved on my phone with what I wanted. I wanted my dull light brown hair transformed to a vibrant copper, with choppy layers and a heavy fringe. What the stylist – or apparently blind, trainee stylist – managed to achieve was shade of orange which could be described as radioactive, and an uneven, long bob which made me look like I wanted to ‘talk to the manager’.

The worst part was, because I’d already had a voucher which meant the treatment had been greatly reduced, the salon could not issue me a refund. Although they did invite me back to try and ‘correct’ the colour. But I’d have to wait at least a fortnight, as putting more colour on it straight away could cause serious damage to my hair. Apparently.

So I was stuck with this horrific orange blob on my head for at least a fortnight. Probably longer, as there was no way I was setting foot back in that salon and letting any of their stylists lay a single finger on my hair again. So that meant waiting until my next pay day so I could go to a better salon. But pay day was three weeks away.

In the meantime I had to go to work, in an office full of people. Looking like Chucky.

Worse still. I had to face Tom. Tom, my annoying, shithead of a colleague. Tom who was in equal measure the bane of my existence and the closest thing to a real friend I actually had. Tom who was also devastatingly gorgeous and he knew it too.

I’d just about managed to twist and clip the fringe out of my face, and I’d attempted to do some type of vintage up-do that I could tuck under my beret and hope it just looked like a new style I was trying out. My fashion sense was normally a little off beat and loud so it was unlikely anyone would comment.

But no matter what I tried, I just couldn’t pull off the beret.

Eventually, another brainwave, I pulled out a pretty silk scarf. It would at least offer some cover from the embarrassment of my morning commute on the tube. I couldn’t see my boss standing for it though.

∞

“Kara,” my eyes shot to my boss, who tapped his wrist and frowned at me from the doorway to his office, “Was there something more pressing for you to do this morning, than show up to work on time?”

“No, Nick, sorry, I missed my alarm,” I apologised hastily, as I passed, “I’ll take ten minutes off my lunch.”

“Whatever, Kara,” he chuckled, and shook his head. He wasn’t really mad, I’d worked for him for too many years for him to really care about the odd ten minutes here or there, “Get that stupid thing off your head, we’ve got clients in today.”

When I finally made it into my own office everyone was already there. The small team were quiet and hard at work, Tom was leaned up against the end of one of the newer team members desk, chatting away quietly, but didn’t miss the opportunity to roll his eyes at me as I hung my coat on the back of the door, and hurried over to my desk.

The next fifteen or so minutes were spent logging into my computer and putting an eye over my emails. Long enough for Tom to fetch our morning coffees and put one on the end of my desk and take his seat across from me.

Everyone worked in comfortable silence and I waited for Tom to settle into his work before I shifted and started removing the pins I’d used to hold my scarf in place, hoping to just slip it off and carry on and maybe no one would say anything. But the second I pulled it off my head I could feel the burning of Tom’s gaze on me.

I tried not to look at him, and fixed my stare on the screen in front of me, trying to focus on the monthly audit spreadsheet. But of course my eyes darted to the side and I caught him, sitting across from me, his eyes sparkling with delighted amusement. I looked away and tried hard to ignore him.

“Good weekend?” his voice drifted over the space between us, and I couldn’t bear to look at him.

“It was fine,” I muttered, “Yours.”

“It was good, got drunk with Pete on Saturday. That new bar on Green Street, with the cocktails that turn your tongue black.”

“Nice.”

“So…” he trailed off, and I could hear in his voice that he was holding back laughter now.

“So?” I shot back abruptly.

“Did you do something different with your hair?”

I looked him dead on now. He was lounged back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. God, I wanted to smack the stupid fucking grin off his beautiful face.

“Obviously,” I hissed, looking away quickly, not wanting him to have the satisfaction of seeing how distressed I was. Made worse by how amused my misfortune was making him.

I tried to press on with my work.

“It’s very –”

“Don’t,” I snapped, quickly, cutting him off before he had a chance to finish.

He finished anyway.

“Orange.”

I said nothing, and kept my eyes firmly fixed on my screen. Tom obviously realised he wasn’t going to get a rise out of me now, because it seemed his attention was also back on the job. So, when it seemed like I could finally settle into my working day and hope that was the last comment I’d get regarding the disaster on my head, I shot off a few emails and then looked at the internal audit from my superior.

Everyone worked in silence, which wasn’t always the case. Generally we were a lively office, but the mood was dampened by the clients due in. The office manager was strict on professionalism, and whenever we had visitors he insisted chitchat was kept to a minimum.

“Christ, Kara. What happened to you? I think you were better off with the head scarf on!”

I’d not heard my boss enter our office, and my eyes shot up in time to see Tom bark with laughter, and a collection of snickers rose from around the office.

“Sorry, Nick,” I mumbled.

“Not me you want to be apologising to. Poor Tom here needs sunglasses sitting opposite you,” Tom chuckled and greeted his bosses high five.

I huffed loudly, “Hilarious. Glad you’re all getting a good laugh at my expense.”

“Talking of expense,” Tom started, his eyes were bright and twinkled with humour, “How much did you sell your soul for, for that haircut?”

“Ha, fucking, ha, Tom, gingers don’t have souls, I get it. You’re a fine one to talk with the ginger Jokes, at least mine will grow out,” I groused, annoyed that now Nick had basically given permission for open season on the hair jokes, Tom was going all in.

“Mines auburn, the ladies love it.”

“Sure.”

“Besides there’s ginger, and then there is that,” he waved a pointed finger in my direction, “It looks like you’ve fallen in a vat of chemicals.”

“Fuck off.”

“Language, Kara,” Nick said, suddenly more serious, “That’s quite enough. You can’t expect to turn up looking like that and not get a few jokes made at your expense.”

“Obviously it’s not meant to look like –”

I tried to argue, but my boss held up a hand to stop me.

“I just came in to let you know I’ll be showing our visitors around within the hour. If you could all just be on your best behavior. Tom, perhaps you can bring up some of the recent stats for them to have a look at, I’d like you to talk them through.”

“Nick, I completed last months internal, perhaps it would be better if I did that.”

“Given your vile mood this morning, Kara, you are the last person I want left alone with one of our highest paying clients.”

My lips parted in surprise. No, shock and humiliation.

I wouldn’t even be in such a foul mood if it wasn’t for his and Tom’s jibes at me. I wanted to walk out, but if I did that I’d only make it worse for myself. So I pressed my lips together and gave a short nod.

In his favour, Tom did give me a sympathetic look, as he picked up his laptop and followed the boss out of the office.

∞

If I’d even hoped that might be the end of my ridicule, I was sorely mistaken.

When I arrived back to my desk after lunch, a bowl had appeared, full of fresh oranges, and a two litre bottle of Tango orange was there too. Tom had returned from his meeting with the visitors, and only glanced from his screen briefly, long enough for me to see the smirk on his lips, as I picked up both the bowl and the bottle and marched them to the shared staff canteen.

When I returned, he looked pretty pleased with himself.

“Chill out, Weasley.”

“Oh fuck off.”

Then not long later a tap on the office door. It was Barbara from the bakery down the street, carrying a small white box. The types they delivered their cakes in, because we always ordered from there on birthdays.

“Hi, Kara,” she chirped, placing the box on the end of my desk, “Special occasion?”

I looked at the box, with a post-it on top reading my name and office number. I frowned, then looked back at her.

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Oh, well… must have an admirer. Enjoy,” with that she skipped off.

I could feel all eyes on me as I pulled the box towards me. When I glanced across my desk, Tom looked about ready to implode.

“What? What did you do?”

“Me?” he exclaimed, holding a hand to his chest, having the gall to look insulted at the accusation.

So I flipped the lid of the box open, and there, inside was a small, but perfectly delicious looking carrot cake. Complete with cream cheese frosting and little decorative iced carrots.

“I…” The tears rolled down my cheeks and splashed onto the cake before I even realised I’d started crying, “I think…I think I’m not feeling too well. I’m going to go home.”

I closed the box quickly and dropped it into the bin under my desk. Then picked up my handbag. It was only when I strode across the room, and reached for my coat that Tom spoke up.

“Oh come on, Kara. Don’t be like that.”

“Tom, I think you should leave it, mate,” I heard Paul, the usually quieter member of the team, pipe up. But his warning went ignored.

“Kara, it’s just a bloody joke.”

“Yeah, well it’s not funny, Tom!” I shouted, spinning back to face him, “Do you think I wanted my hair like this? Do you think, if I could have done something to make it look less hideous, I wouldn’t have done it before having to come in and face you.”

“It was just a laugh.”

“For you, maybe. Not for me,” I sniffed, “You’re meant to be my friend. I know we wind each other up, but I can’t believe you’d go so far out of your way to get a laugh at my expense. It’s bad enough having to leave the house looking like this.”

“Kara, I didn’t…”

“Don’t even bother, Tom. I’m going. Tell Nick I’m ill.”

With that, I turned back and hurried from the office, leaving Tom, and the rest of the team in stunned silence. Not once, in all the years I’d worked there had I walked out like that, or out rightly shouted at Tom. We bickered, sure. All the time actually. We wound each other up, but we were never cruel.

∞

I waited until I arrived home to completely lose it.

A text came through from Nick, saying Tom felt bad about how he’d behaved, and they both meant no harm, and hoped I was okay.

I cried. Tears streamed down my cheeks and my body wrecked with harsh sobs.

This was ridiculous. It was just hair, why did I care so much? Some people had it worse. My own mother had lost all hers when she’d undergone Chemotherapy, and she’d not cried about it once. Alright, she wasn’t okay with it, she hated it. But she got on with it.

So why was I so upset about my hair? It would grow out, eventually. And in a few weeks I’d be able to colour it and maybe get the cut sorted. It was fixable.

More so, why was I so bothered by what Tom said?

Oh yeah, right. Because the office banter and bickering had been my own, so far, successful way of staying in control of the stupid crush I’d been harbouring from the day we were assigned to work with one another.

It’s not like I’d ever stand a chance with him anyway, he’d never paid me the slightest bit of interest. I’d have known if he had, because Tom was a notorious ladies man and when he liked a woman he let her know very quickly. He always said it was because he had impeccable taste, so he didn’t like to hang around. If he didn’t get in there, another man would.

I called him a slut.

But only because I was jealous.

Jealous of every girl who was better than me.

And now I was heartbroken because I’d now made myself look repulsive, and stupid and I’d managed to bump myself further down Tom’s list. Not that I was even on it to start with.

The truth was, of the women Tom had dated, there had been a fair few red heads. These stunning women, with long, scarlet tresses. Usually tall, with fair skin, blue eyes, and so very striking to look at. Women who were so extra, that next to them, I looked positively dull.

I bathed, and washed my hair. The stylist said after a few washes the colour would ‘settle down’. It wasn’t working, but I tried anyway. After blow drying it, it looked brighter than ever, and I shed a few more tears in front of the mirror. I couldn’t stay away from work until it was fixed.

It had just gone seven o’clock in the evening when my door buzzer went. I wasn’t expecting visitors, and my phone had been quiet since I’d ignored my bosses text. So I was a little nervous when I picked up the entry phone and asked who was there.

“Hey, Kar…It’s Tom,” I could heard the uncertainty in his voice. I’d already given him one dressing down today, was he expecting another one? “Can I come in?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m not here to take the piss.”

“I hope not.”

“Well, can come in then?”

I glanced back into my little flat. It wasn’t too untidy. I looked down at myself. Old leggings, a band t-shirt which I’d cut the sleeves off of, and my fluffy bed socks. I suffered from cold feet. What the hell? He’d seen me in worse states.

“Sure,” I pressed the button and heard him push the door open.

Tom had only visited my flat once before, for a little gathering which I’d had for my thirtieth birthday. Whilst we were friends, it was usually reserved for work, and occasionally nights out. My place was small, and I wasn’t overly fond of having guests.

It only occurred to me when I heard the tap at my front door, that Tom lived the other side of the city. Coming to Croydon was well out of his way, considering his own place was in North West London. No closer to work, than me, really. Just in the complete opposite direction. The fact that he’d made the effort to come all the way to see me, gave me pause for thought.

When I opened the door, Tom was standing on the other side, clutching a bottle of white wine, and wearing a very sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” he said, the instant I beckoned him through the threshold of my doorway, and he thrust the bottle of wine into my hands. It was cold, and had clearly been picked up on his way over from a Newsagents with a chiller. The sudden cold in my hands took me by surprise and I bit back a gasp. Tom frowned at me, waiting for my response.

“Erm…okay,” I nodded slowly, closing the door behind him, “You didn’t have to come all the way here to say sorry. I probably over-reacted.”

Probably. I had definitely over-reacted. Most people would see the funny side. Hell…I’d have normally seen the funny side. Except, when it was at your expense, and the subject of the joke was actually something that was quite upsetting to you, it wasn’t very funny. But how could I expect Tom to understand why I was so upset over my hair. It was just hair.

Hair which he was now looking at with a renewed interest.

Of course. At work, it had been clipped up. But now, post blow dry. He could see the dodgy style in all its horrifying glory. Wonky fringe, and uneven layers, the lot.

“Wow… Kar… that hairdresser’s really did a number on you, didn’t they?”

“Tom, you’ve come here to apologise, but if you’re going to start on me again, I’d rather you just left,” I thrust the wine bottle back in his direction, and pointed at the door, “You can take your cheap bottle of plonk, and bugger off.”

“No, no, I’m not taking the piss, Kara. I promise,” Tom held up his hands, palms out, as if to show he wasn’t there to hurt me. “And I’ll have you know that wine just cost me ten quid.”

He looked sincere. His eyes were wide and full of concern. That’s what  set me off again. As if I hadn’t wasted enough tears over a stupid haircut already.  

“Oh, no…oh Kara, love. Please don’t cry,” he lunged forward, and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. Completely forgetting the bottle of wine, which was now trapped between our bodies still in my grasp.

“It’s…so…stupid,” I sniffed and wiped my face on his jacket, “It’s just hair.”

“It’s not stupid.”

“It is though,” I hiccoughed, and pulled away from him, “Sorry, I’m crying all over you.”

“Listen, I’ve got a friend, he works for Toni and Guy, he’s a top level stylist. I’ve had a chat, and he says he can see you tomorrow. He’s based not far from work, and Nick has said you can take the morning off.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because I told him I’d been a complete knob, and I wasn’t sure if you’d ever come back, if I didn’t try and help you put this right.”

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t afford it anyway, and the salon said I probably shouldn’t put anything on it for a few weeks, or it’ll all fall out or something,” I shrugged hopelessly.

“Well, that might an improvement,” I knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but his jibe cost him a harsh glare from me, “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, “Anyway, I spoke to my friend, he said he can help, and he definitely knows more than those idiots that fucked it up in the first place. And as for the cost, it’s my treat. Don’t worry about it.”

“I can’t let you do that. It’ll cost a fortune.”

“Kara. I wasted money on a homemade cake, for a joke today. I can afford a haircut. Besides, I want to do this for you. I hate seeing you so upset. Especially when I’m the one whose fault it is.”

“You didn’t do this,” I gestured to my hair, “How is it your fault?”

“Well, I’m supposed to be your friend. Friends don’t kick each other when they’re down,” Tom shrugged, “Anyway, you’re seeing my friend tomorrow and he’ll fix it for you.”

“Well…that’s very nice. Thank you. Do you…want a glass of this?” I held up the bottle of wine.

“Why do you think I brought it?”

I went into the kitchen, Tom was hot on my heels, and hung behind me whilst I fetched two glasses from the cupboard and poured us each a glass of wine.

“Here,” I turned and put a glass in his hand. We went through to the living room, and sat together on my little sofa. We both sipped our wine quietly, and I wondered how long he would stay. It would take him well over an hour to get across London this time of the night. I couldn’t help but feel bad that he’d felt the need to make the effort, all because I couldn’t take a joke.

“I don’t mean this to come across the wrong way, but I’m not sure why you felt the need to change your hair anyway. It was fine as it was,” Tom said, somewhat out of the blue. I’d thought the topic of my hair catastrophe was done with.

“It wasn’t fine, it was boring, and dull.”

“It was lovely, and natural.”

“Since when do you have an opinion on my hair.”

“Since you felt the need to ruin something beautiful,” he shot back without a beat.

“Beautiful,” I scoffed, “Since when have you considered anything natural about a woman, as beautiful?”

“I beg your pardon?” Okay, maybe they was harsh, and I shouldn’t have been surprised by his insulted expression.

“I didn’t mean…I just…” I stammered trying to explain myself, “I’ve seen the women you date, Tom. We’ve worked together long enough. You can’t sit there trying to tell me I shouldn’t be changing my hair because it’s beautiful in its natural state, when I know for a fact that in your eyes, me and beautiful are two things which don’t go together.”

“Oh you know that for a fact do you?” Tom spat, looking surprisingly, more annoyed than I’d ever seen him. And I’d seen him lose a contract he’d worked on for over three months, “You think because I date a lot of women who bleach their hair and cake on make-up, that I don’t appreciate natural beauty. That I don’t think of you as beautiful?”

“You’ve never given me reason to think you do. But that’s fine, Tom, you’re allowed to have a type. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing. It’s just…don’t judge my decision to try and change my appearance, in an attempt to appear more aesthetically pleasing, when you’re in no position to do so,” I exclaimed, truly exasperated. I didn’t expect him to sit there and lie to make me feel better. Or to try and justify his proclivities.

“I like all women, Kar… all shapes and sizes, it doesn’t bother me. I’m not picky.”

“You are a bit,” I muttered under my breath.

“Well, alright, yeah, I can be a bit picky, but it never has anything to do with looks.”

“Why are we even talking about this?” I wondered, finally. I didn’t want to talk about Tom’s dating catalog, it was literally the last thing I needed right now.

“Because, you seem to be under the impression that I don’t think you’re beautiful. Which I do, actually,” Tom stated, very matter of fact.

“Tom, please don’t do this. I know you think it’s making me feel better, but it’s not. I appreciate you coming here, and also sorting me out an appointment with your friend. But you don’t need to shower me with fake compliments. I don’t…what you think about me doesn’t matter. It’s fine,” the words were rushed, and Tom’s brow furrowed in frustration.

“You’re not listening to me, Kara. I’m not trying to make you feel better, and my compliments are not fake. I’m trying to tell you that I like you, that I have for a while. Which is why I feel so awful for upsetting you today. And I always think you’re beautiful,” he paused, taking a short breath, before adding, “Even with your god awful Toyah hair do.”

“What?” I asked, bluntly. Ignoring his comment about the hair.

“You heard me, Kara.”

“You like me? Like me, like me?” he nodded, “Since when?”

“Well… a while. I don’t know?”

“But… why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I was trying to be professional, we have to work together. Also, I didn’t want to make a move unless I knew you liked me too, because it would make things awkward,” Tom explained, as if it was the most obvious reasoning in the world, “And up until very recently you were still dating dickhead Dan.”

“But all you do is wind me up, and argue with me.”

“You argue with me too! Plus…I like it when we bicker. I like your fire, Kara. I purposely try to get a rise out of you, because…well… it’s sexy as hell.”

“Oh come on!” I scoffed, incredulous.

“You don’t believe me do you?” He set his wine down on the coffee table.

“I just… you date so many women, really stunning ones.”

“I date a lot of women, because I’m single and I like female company. Am I seeing any of them more than once or twice? Am I looking for anything more than dinner, and maybe sometimes sex? I’ve not had a proper relationship in almost two years Kar…because I’ve been too hung up on you.”

“Oh.”

“I hated that I made you cry today. I never, ever want to hurt you. Although I didn’t plan on telling you quite like this –”

He didn’t get time to finish, because I cut him off, with my lips against his.

Tom froze momentarily, and I wondered for a second, if kissing him had been a mistake. Just because he apparently liked me, it didn’t mean he wanted to make a move. I went to pull back, parting our lips, but as I did so, I felt Tom’s hand grasp the back of my head, pulling back, and he  mumbled his disapproval of my intention to pull away.

He kissed me back this time, his lips insistently working against mine. I flung my arm out, the one still grasping my own wine glass, feeling for the table until I could set it down. Then once it was safely out my hands, I moved back into the kiss properly, maneuvering myself, until I could clamber up and push Tom against the back of the sofa, and straddle his lap.

“Fuck, Kara, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted you like this.”

“About as long as I’ve wanted you,” I responded, moving back to press little kisses along his jaw and neck.

“But…but you were with Dan?”

“Only because I couldn’t bear the thought of being single. It took him cheating on me, to make me realise that I’d rather be on my own, than with him. My self esteem isn’t great, but I know I’m better than that.”

“He cheated on you?” I hadn’t meant to let that lip, I’d not told anyone that part.

“Yeah.”

“What a fucking idiot,” Tom mumbled, tugging me back towards him and kissing me again. When his hand travelling from my hip to my right breast and squeezed trough the worn fabric of my t-shirt, I gasped. The second my lips parted, his tongue plunged into my mouth. He worked a nipple between his fingers, and I groaned loudly into his mouth, grinding myself down into his lap.

“Tom,” I whimpered his name, breaking the kiss, “I wanted you too. For a really long time. I thought… I never thought you could like someone like me.”

“What on earth, Kara?” his hand left my breast and settled back on my hip, he pulled back and his eyes searched mine, “Someone like you? You’re wonderful. You’re beautiful, smart, and incredibly sexy. I’m so incredibly lucky to even know you, to have you as a friend, let alone, on my lap, rubbing yourself on my cock like it’s your fucking job or something.”

I giggled, and ground down again, giving him a playful smile, “Like that?”

“Fucking minx, I always knew you’d be like this. Please tell me I don’t have to go home.”

“You don’t have to go home,” I answered, placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth, pleased that he was thinking the same as me. I couldn’t think of letting him leave now.

“Thank god,” he breathed, “Now… lets find you a suitable hat, to cover that monstrosity on your head, then I’m going to take you to bed and fuck you so good, that tomorrow you’ll go into work with a bad limp and a huge smile, and no one will have any doubt exactly what you’ve been up to.”

Her

She was sitting on the edge of the bed staring at the pictures in her hands. The two of them, taken shortly after the first time they had exchanged I love you’s at one of Stark’s insane parties, dancing and laughing and oblivious to the camera. The two of them curled up together on the armchair, holding up matching sweaters and laughing. The grainy black and white picture printed out just yesterday.

The tears started again as she looked at the last one. She couldn’t believe everything that had happened in the last 48 hours. She couldn’t believe the words that had come out of her mouth a few short hours earlier. She couldn’t believe that the man she and her (ex-)boyfriend considered a best friend could be so awful to make her say those words she instantly regretted. The words that burned her throat as they came out and shattered both her’s and Bucky’s hearts.

She had left the doctor yesterday a little (okay, a lot) shocked and excited. She hadn’t been expecting to hear the words “You’re pregnant” come out of the doctor’s mouth, especially when she and Bucky hadn’t planned anything and weren’t exactly sure how the serum and cryo would influence fertility. Especially not before they discussed marriage. She knew Bucky was traditional at heart – they hadn’t discussed children yet because they hadn’t discussed marriage yet.

Somehow though – okay, not “somehow,” she did know the whole birds-and-bees schtick – she was pregnant. She was in a fog as she left the office and didn’t notice she had a tail until she turned the corner and saw Steve out of the corner of her eye. She held her purse closer, afraid he would be able to guess there were ultrasound pictures stashed in it and didn’t want to ruin the surprise for Bucky.

She was shocked, then, as Steve lay things out for her. She was to tell Bucky things weren’t working. She would leave, never contacting any of the team again. If anyone looked for her, she would tell them that things weren’t working out and that her leaving was for the best. She would never see Bucky again, after breaking his heart so much that he wouldn’t search for her. He threatened to expose all her secrets, to turn Bucky against her if she didn’t. Things she had worked so hard to bury were spouting out of Steve’s mouth as he threatened to rip her life apart if she didn’t tear her heart out.

She didn’t understand how Steve could be so cold and calculating. He told her that it was in everyone’s best interest that this happen. Bucky didn’t need the distraction, it could interfere with his de-programming and she could ruin it all. Steve manipulated her, all “for Bucky.” And he truly believed that it was in his best friend’s best interest. He could handle a broken-hearted Bucky, he couldn’t handle a broken-minded Bucky with the Winter Soldier threatening to come out at any moment.

She heaved a sigh, fought her tears, and packed a bag.

Him

Bucky’s eyes blurred as he looked at his phone. The tears were harder to fight as he drank more, now in the empty apartment that smelled of her perfume and felt far too big. Everything was as it was a few hours ago, except her clothes and little personal items were missing. Somehow those little absences felt bigger than if she had removed all the furniture. The emotional load was too high as he took the bottle of vodka from the freezer. He may not he able to get drunk, but he could drink enough to hopefully forget her.

He had texted Steve on the way home from the bar to tell him not to expect him at training in the morning. His plan was to drink until he fell asleep, wake up, and try to find her. If he couldn’t, he had another full bottle stashed in the back of the freezer. He had checked before draining the last of the bottle he was working on. He had to stop himself from opening that one, make a game-plan and drag himself to their empty bedroom.

His phone buzzed as he closed his tired eyes, but he ignored it when he saw that it was only Steve. It wasn’t her, so it didn’t matter.

The pounding at the door woke him up. It felt like only seconds, but the bright light shining through the gap in their curtains told a different story. He should have known that Steve wouldn’t accept a broken heart and pounding head as an excuse to miss training. He dragged himself to the door, cursing the serum’s dual ability to make getting drunk impossible, but amplify the after-effects into a hangover from hell. At least his head hurt as much as his chest did and distracted from the emotional pain to an extent.

To his surprise, it wasn’t Steve at his door. It wasn’t Nat or Sam or anyone from the team. It wasn’t her, the one person he wanted to see on the other side of the door. It was the police. Two patrolmen, with their expressions carefully controlled so he couldn’t tell what they were there for.

“Mr. Barnes…”

Her