Arc 3, Chapter 1, Steve's Party: Loki, Steve

[clint_barton]

Loki makes mischief; Steve makes new lady friends.

Everything about this conversation, as well as everyone involved in the conversation, irritates the hell out of Loki.  He hovers nearby, scowling, thinking.  He’s well aware that provoking Thor will mean Steve’s timely, Boy Scout-quick intervention, and he can’t have that.  Stark and the others are a lesser issue; they’re drunk to the point that they won’t care about a little brawl.  In their state, they’ll likely find it hilarious.

He needs a distraction, something to get Steve out of the way, and as Loki weighs the options he realizes that the perfect solution is obvious.  Stark brought an entourage with him when he arrived, comprised largely of attractive, talkative women.  Many of these women, having availed themselves of the refreshments, are engaging the other attendees with aggressive friendliness.  Loki expends almost no power in drawing two of them towards an unsuspecting Steve.

“OHmygod,” the blonde says, stumbling against her dark-haired friend, “Tiffany.  Tiffany.  That’s Captain America.”

“Girl, I know,” Tiffany says, her gaze roving up and down Steve’s body with all the naked hunger of a tiger slavering over a wildebeest.  She sidles up to Steve and loops her arm in his; her friend quickly moves to flank his other side, effectively trapping him between their embrace. “How you doin’?”

Loki sits on the grass and laughs.

Steve looks a little startled as the girls pen him in, one even tucking under his arm and pressing close.  But it’s not unwelcome, just surprising.  The girls are warm, friendly and beautiful, and Steve can’t find it in him to discourage them. He offers up a smile then looks up at Thor, Bucky and Natalia, raising an eyebrow.

“Ah-, hello ladies.  You’re friends of Tony’s, right?”  He says politely, feeling his cheeks redden. It’s got to be the sun and the heat that’s making him feel so light headed.  He turns to the brunette, “Tiffany if I remember correctly?  But I’m sorry I don’t remember your friend’s name, Miss…?”

“Good friends,” Tiffany purrs, resting her head on Steve’s shoulder. “Close, personal friends.”

“Yeah,” says the blonde, as she takes Steve’s hand in hers and squeezes. “And we’d like to be your personal friends, too, Mr. Rogers.  You can call me Amber, by the way.”

The look on Steve’s face is priceless.  His discomfort is so palpable that it leaks into the atmosphere, but the two women interpret his skittishness as a gentleman playing hard to get, and their affection is thus doubled.

“Y’know,” Tiffany says, “These pumps are just killin’ me.  Would you mind escorting me to one of Mr. Stark’s limousines over there?  I left a better pair of shoes on the backseat.”

Amber giggles. “Ooh, me, too.  C’mon, Mr. America—it’ll only take a minute.”

Loki can’t remember the last time he’s had this much fun.

Steve’s awkward expression turns to gentlemanly concern for the girl.  ”Yes, of course,”  he says, more than willing to assist her back to the limo. “Here, lean on my arm.”  She does, leaning even more of her weight on him and pressing herself closer. 

“My, such a gentleman.” Tiffany purrs at him, trying to see if she can get him to blush again. Amber is already on his other arm, tugging on him gently but insistently away.

For a moment Steve almost forgets his friends entirely, the cloud of expensive perfume and the press of New Mexico’s heat making his thoughts sluggish.  But he manages to stop after only a few steps, “Excuse me for a few minutes would you,” he says to his friends.

Amber chimes in, waving a slim, well manicured hand, “We’ll return him. Honest!”

As the three of them walk towards one of the sleek black limos Steve can be heard asking, “So where did you both meet, Tony?”

His question is met with a round of giggling from his two new companions.