The Ant and the Boot

I was so furious with him. The piece of paper had already turned to a tight ball in my clammy palms, my nails tearing little holes into the writing.

”Wife” What right did he have to call me that? To ask me now, after everything that had happened?

I wasn’t sure why I was so much angrier now than I had been in the previous days when he told me to fly to Mexico. Maybe I was angry because now I felt even more conflicted in my feelings for him. Maybe it was because now, instead of simply loving Loki and knowing that I shouldn’t, I also knew that there was someone else who would take me, pregnancy and godhood and all.

And he wouldn’t run away, leaving me with a stupid ring and pretending that saying he would marry me would make it all alright.

I shouted again, furious with Loki and furious that I couldn’t stop the tears that were still running down my face. Furious that I kept letting Loki in, over and over and over again, just to keep getting hurt. I was furious that I could still feel the cold hand of shame clawing at my insides for considering leaving Loki – even though I had every right. I had every right to walk away from this. Not only did I have the right, but it would be the smart thing. The right thing.

Except it wouldn’t be, since Loki’s love – no, “love” – for his child and me were the only thing tying him to us. I needed to be faithful to Loki, or else we’d just have another enemy who was even more vengeful and even more motivated this time around, this time with a death god to help him obliterate humanity. And I had to keep loving him, keep promising myself to him to keep him in check.

Gods, I just wanted it all to stop. I felt like I’d spent the past months strapped into an awful roller coaster and I couldn’t get off – it just kept going, twisting and turning until my stomach rolled and lurched with feelings I couldn’t handle and life questions that were way, way over my head. Hell, I should have been out looking for a job right now, maybe going to get a doctorate, maybe dating some cute grad student or enjoying the single life in an apartment with a cat or something. I wasn’t supposed to be trying to manage godhood and a baby and an insane, obsessive lover who would tear the world apart if I decided to leave. I shouldn’t be dealing with proposals and be wondering, “hey, if I say no, will he kill everyone I love?”

That’s insane. That’s such complete and utter bullshit. If he loved me, I wouldn’t have to ask myself these awful, awful questions.

Growling, I unwadded the stupid little piece of paper and tore it to shreds, letting the pieces scatter under my feet. Similarly I took his stupid, beautiful ring and tossed it into a corner of the room, just narrowly avoiding tossing it out the window into the crashing ocean waves.

“Can I come in yet?” I heard Tony call from outside the door. I grabbed a small, fragile figurine standing artistically on the bedside table and hurled it at the door in response.

“Got it, thanks Dove.”

I continued to pace, continued to seethe, my power crackling around me with short hisses and pops of electricity. I wanted to hold my anger: the anger felt strong, shielding me from the pain and hurt and desperation that I could feel rolling around inside of me. If I didn’t stay angry I would start crying again, and by now I was just so damn sick of crying and just feeling hurt.

It had been such a good night. I’d finally felt happy. I’d felt for a few hours that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be alright.

And then my “lover” showed up and I remembered that nothing was never alright. Silly, stupid me.

I couldn’t stay angry forever, as much as I wanted to. Eventually the other emotions began to sink in, tightening my throat and burning behind my eyes. I gritted my teeth, holding in the sobs and wails that always followed shortly behind the tears. No crying. No more crying over him. He didn’t deserve it anymore. Had he ever really deserved my tears?

I curled up on the bed, feeling drained to the core as my anger began to ebb. To my credit, I didn’t cry – tears burned at my eyes and a few slid across my face, but that’s as far as it got. I kept breathing, in and out, until all that was left was the empty, painful silence that came after a fight.

“Hey, Dove?” I heard him call, followed by a tentative knock on the door. “It’s me, Steve. Look, I know tonight’s been rough and I’m sorry for that, but if you’re feeling up to it-“

I waved my hand, the locked door unclicking. I knew somewhere in my mind, under the screaming and the rage and the anguish, that Steve didn’t deserve to be locked out and worried. Somewhere even deeper I knew that none of them did, but dammit, I was only able to deal with one person at a time for now.

His footsteps were as tentative as his knocking, and he stopped a few paces away – I guess he was just regarding my crumpled form, trying to figure out what the hell to do with me. That was okay – I was trying to figure out what the hell to do with me, too.

Then I realized that the dress I’d been wearing had also ridden up to my waist. His pause might also be his 1940s manners screaming, trying to figure out what to do with a woman’s fully exposed leg. This idea was more entertaining.
He coughed. Yeah, he was definitely having trouble dealing with the leg. I had mercy upon his soul and sat up, pulling my dress back down to at least cover my upper thigh.

“You know, for a soldier, you’re very uncomfortable with the female body. You’re letting down your occupational stereotype,” I joked half-heartedly, though my voice was still a bit course from the shouting and earlier crying.

“You know, a lot of the guys I worked with didn’t know a thing about women. We tended to get more eyefuls of half-naked men, especially back in World War Two. Some guys tried to talk a big game, but when it came down to it a lot of us got pretty stiff when we ran into a member of the fairer sex,” he joked back, though I could tell that his heart wasn’t really in it, either. He sat down next to me, boldly daring to only sit half way down the length of the bed this time, and continued, “I actually saw a lot more of women than most of the guys in my brigade, though that came from the song and dance routine thing. Lots of quick changes, lots of admirers. Still, it took a long time before a garter didn’t scare the hell out of me.”

“You still seem pretty scared.”

“Of course. I said I wasn’t afraid of garters anymore, not modern ladies’ underwear.”

I laughed. “The ladies must have been pretty surprised back in the 1940s. All of them drooling over their hunky cultural icon only to find out he was a virgin.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, ma’am. Like I said, I traveled around with a bunch of gorgeous women.”

“Oh no, Captain America has a dark past.”

“Not so dark, just a human one. It was more common for people to wait till marriage in my day, but I guess I got carried away a couple times after going from a scrawny little kid who most people mistook for being in grade school when I turned twenty to suddenly having women knocking on my dressing room door.”

“With such a checkered past for a 1940s guy, I’m surprised you’re still afraid of ladies’ underwear.”

“I said I wasn’t a virgin, not that my past was that checkered. Besides, I’m less nervous around the underwear itself than the woman wearing it.”

I finally met Steve’s eyes. Even in the partial darkness I could see they were sincere, calm, focused on my face with all the steadiness of an anchor keeping a boat still in stormy seas. Just looking at him made me feel more grounded, a welcome relief after seeing Loki tonight. I laughed a little at myself, generally just surprised that I’d gotten Captain America to have a conversation about underwear. It was a sign that I probably needed sleep and a day that didn’t harrow me to the bone emotionally.

“Honestly, I shouldn’t make you nervous. I’m just an exhausted girl who got in over my head and is still figuring out how I even got here,” I said honestly, sighing. I’m in way over my head. It felt good to say it aloud.

“You and me both. I’m just a kid from Brooklyn, remember? Now I’m ninety years old and fighting aliens instead of Nazis.”

“Well, you’re looking pretty good for a ninety-year-old.”

“You’re looking pretty good for a pregnant god-queen.”

I laughed – which prompted him to laugh, which made me smile, which made him smile in return. So we smiled stupidly and tiredly at each other in silence, our brains too scrambled to come up with new words at the moment. Still, though, I felt okay with my stupid, exhausted smile. I was feeling a bit better, a bit lighter now that Steve was here. I didn’t feel so alone in all of this.

“So,” Steve finally said, his smile fading, “Tony said that you came back with a ring.”

My smile also faded. I swallowed.

“Yeah. Loki. He proposed. Sort of. I don’t think he gets the whole mortal proposal thing. It was less a ‘will you marry me’ and more a ‘I’m going to marry you’ thing.”

“Did you… Did you say yes to that?”

“No, I just sort of curled up and cried. Then came back here, screamed for a while, and cried some more.”

Steve nodded gravely. He paused.

“Do you… want to marry him?”

I turned my gaze from my toes to Steve’s face. He was holding his breath, his arms and shoulders too still for him to be taking in oxygen. He regarded me carefully – and god, could that man do some killer puppy dog eyes. I turned my head away from him for a moment, shooting a glare at the pretty ring that still sat in the corner that I’d tossed it in.

Did I want to marry Loki?

“… No. No, I don’t want to. Not now, not after…” I swallowed, dropping my gaze again, “But do I really have a choice? He’s the only thing we’ve got going for us right now in this fight with Thanos, and if I say no…”

“If you say no, then we’ll deal with it,” Steve urged, moving closer to me. I could feel his eyes searching my face, willing me to look up at him. I couldn’t.

“Dove, we can do this. We just have to get focused, have to figure out what they’re doing. And if Loki turns on us – so what? We’ve dealt with him before. We can beat him. We won’t – I won’t let him hurt you.”

His hand touched my knee – it was strange to feel his skin, so hot after Loki’s cold touch. I held my breath as I chanced a look up at his face. God, his eyes. He was so, so sure of what he was saying that I could see it color his features, and his eyes just held me there, as solid and as steadfast as a deep embrace. I wanted so badly to believe him, to tumble into those blue eyes and forget all about Loki and the baby and the fate of the world - and he made it easy to.

“I’m just scared, Steve. I don’t know if I can walk away from this,” I replied, my breath caught in my throat. I could feel my mouth go dry as we looked at each other, searching each other for movement but too afraid to move ourselves. I opened my mouth to say more, but I couldn’t come up with more words to say – I just sat there, lips parted, silence ringing in my ears as I stared into those eyes that were just so steady, and sure, and true, and good, and good god –

I don’t know if he reached for me or if I reached for him, but the moment his hands were upon my waist my fingers had already wound into his golden hair, his breath so hot against my skin when his lips melted against mine. He tasted like fear and sweat and the sugar of the elephant ear we’d shared earlier that night. I wanted to breathe him in, to be enveloped in that steady calm that he carried with him, and my hands gripped to his flesh like a lifeline as he swung me onto his lap, my legs pressing to either side of his hips. I kissed him, one hand tracing the strong, firm outline of his jaw as it moved against mine. The heat of his chest burned against me, and as he moved he trailed fiery kisses down my cheeks and to my collarbone. I leaned into him, pushing him into the folds of my bed as his hands traced over my dress. He gripped at the fabric into a tight ball against my back when I ran my fingers over the front of his jeans.

I was burning alive. With a quick motion I pulled my dress over my head and tossed it to the floor, pressing to him again with bare flesh. He ran his hands over my remaining garments, his fingers smooth against the cotton and lace. My fingers danced, fumbling with the cool metal of his belt buckle as my lips trailed from his collarbone to his earlobe, taking the sweet flesh between my teeth.

“Dove.”

Steve’s hands found mine as I pulled down the zipper of his pants. His fingers twined with mine as he rolled me underneath him, softly pressing me against the mattress with my hands pinned on either side of my head. He pulled back from me, panting, his face flushed and hair very tousled. I panted underneath him, my burning, bare flesh quickly becoming very cold as the air ran over my sweaty torso.

Steve swallowed. Hard.

“You are… One hell of a woman,” he breathed, still panting, though if it was from exertion or trying to steady himself I wasn’t sure. He shifted, his hips grazing along the tender inside of my thigh with a sharp tingling sensation. I gasped. He shifted his weight again apologetically, though I could see in his features that a very, very large part of him wanted to continue on the path we were already pursuing. His eyes tentatively looked along my body, and I could tell he was holding his breath again as his eyes took in the curves of my breasts and stomach. He swallowed again. He released one of my hands, his hand moving to idly trace the lace outline of one of the cups of my bra. His touch affected me in strange ways that sent dizzying thoughts into my mind. My free hand reached out, running along one arm and trying to draw him back down to me.

He resisted. His free hand found mine again, catching it up and gently – but firmly – wrapping his fingers around my palm. He pressed his lips to the back of my exposed fingers with closed eyes, collecting his thoughts before returning his gaze to me.

“I… I can’t begin to tell you how much I want…” he began, but his words trailed off as he shook his head.

“But we can’t. Not right now. Not tonight. Neither of our heads are clear, and I know you’ve had one hell of a night…” his voice faltered, his eyes dipping down the length of my body before quickly coming back up with renewed focus on my face.

“It wouldn’t be fair to you to continue tonight. I would be taking advantage.”

I opened my mouth to tell him just how much he would not be taking advantage and just how fine and dandy I was with us continuing, but slowly I shut my mouth again and closed my eyes, slowly sighing in one slow, steady exhalation of breath. He was right, we shouldn’t tonight. While I’d be happy now, I knew I’d wake up with a renewed sense of panic and shame, expecting Loki to appear at every turn and strike me down, maybe even smell Steve lingering on me. No, that would just make things worse in the long run, no matter what my body was screaming at me to do right now.

Captain America, living up to the legend. Handsome, chivalrous, and with remarkable self-control. Dammit.

“…. You’re right,” I finally admitted, sighing. The expression on his face told me that part of him had been hoping for a different answer, which I could easily say I could relate to. Steve released me and I sat up, awkwardly wrapping my arms around myself to try to regain some modesty. I felt a little embarrassed, lowering my gaze to my cold toes. Steve zipped and re-buckled his pants, also taking a few deep breaths and running some hands over his hair to smooth it out. I quietly moved past him, opening a dresser drawer and getting out an oversized shirt with a Pink Floyd logo on it – it was actually supposed to be a gift for Thor from Tony, but it was too small for Thor so I got it. For me it fit like a dress, coming down to my mid thigh with sleeves almost reaching my elbows. I pulled it over my head, quickly hiding my exposed body under the layer of cotton.

“You don’t need to feel bad, Dove,” Steve quickly said as he saw me adjusting the shirt over my body, smoothing out some wrinkles. “I… I wanted to continue, I really did. And it’s not because of…”

He began to blush furiously. I could tell from the heat in my cheeks that I was, too, and I quickly averted my gaze.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Dove. I hope that another night things could turn out different. Just…”

I glanced up at him when he trailed off. He was looking away, clearly looking for words.

“… Just, when I’m with you, I want you to want to be with me, not just not with him. And I’m going to wait for that day to come – and when it does, you bet that when this scene plays out it’s going to play out very differently.”

I blushed again, mind wandering to “differently”. I could tell he was thinking the same thing from the way his ears turned red, even in the near-darkness. When I glanced at him, our eyes met for a moment, and I quickly looked away. He didn’t, though, and he strode over to me, taking maybe two strides before he caught my face up in his hands. I blinked, staring up into his insistent, blue eyes, partially hidden under furrowed brows that knit lines into his forehead. He leaned forward, but then paused, his lips lightly parted a breath’s width away from mine.

“Can… May I kiss you?”

Wow. Gentleman through and through. I swallowed.

“Yes.”

His lips pressed lightly, tentatively to mine – probably more in the way first kisses were supposed to go, not with the clothes-rending passion that had occurred shortly before. I carefully pressed my hand to the side of his neck, feeling his steady pulse against my fingers, and one of his hands held me steady about the waist the other one lightly pushing my hair out of my face and running a thumb over my cheek. I again tasted the sugar and the salt upon his lips, and this time I spent the time to breathe in his scent: Lemon, citrus, and fresh linen, I’m guessing from the fabric softener he used. His lips moved gently against mine, finally ending in a long, firm press before drawing away.

He smiled, running his fingers over my hair.

Kissing him felt… Safe. It felt right.

I reached up on my tiptoes and kissed him again, chastely, before stepping back.

“Thanks, Steve,” I offered a smile, averting my eyes, “for tonight. It’s been nice, all the… other stuff notwithstanding.”

“Other stuff notwithstanding,” Steve repeated, also smiling. “Well, my hope is that someday, someday soon, that ‘other stuff’ can be out of your hair, and we’ll be able to just have us.”

“I’d… I think I’d like that,” I said, though I was still very unsure. I think I’d like that now. But what happens next time Loki shows up at my doorstep? Next time he swoops in with his beautiful, dangerous eyes and offers me impossible promises and wild dreams.

Next time he pulls me into his arms and steals my breath away with one of his passionate, obsessive kisses that threaten to drown me.

I have to get away or else I’m never going to break away from Loki alive.

“I’d like that,” I repeated, more confidently this time. Steve broke into a relieved grin – probably the most relaxed I’d ever seen him – and he took my hand in his.

“Feel like making everyone else less nervous?” he offered, pointing to the door. Together we left my room, fingers loosely entwined, my free hand running idly over his arm. Before we reached the end of the hallway, though, he paused, a – playful? – smile upon his lips. He gently pushed me to the wall, hands wrapping around my waist as his lips found mine once more. We stole a few more moments like that, leaving me breathless when he backed away.

“Sorry,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck but still keeping that same grin, “Just wanted to take one for the road.”



They were shitty liars, the both of them. They came in, one a few moments after the other, as if spacing out their entrance were going to do a damn thing to hide their game of tonsil-hockey that they’d just played. But I’d seen it. I wasn’t fooled. I saw that warm, sappy glow around their heads and the way Cap kept glancing over at her with these eyes that were frankly too cute for the pompous dick I’d been living with the past two months. I saw the way she twisted a strand of white-blonde hair around one finger and looked out the window just to avoid looking at Cap and god dammit, it was just too cute.

Unfortunately, if I could smell their bullshit from a mile away, I’m sure so could Loki.

I regarded Dove, noticing that she’d changed since she went in her room. Uh-oh. Frankly, I hadn’t thought Cap had the stones to get busy that quick in the game, but maybe I’d misjudged him. Hell, wouldn’t be the first time. But if they had gotten down and dirty… well, this made things complicated. If Loki found out that his lovely “bride” was not only ditching him for the hot hunk of mortal but was letting Capsicle poke her with his freeze-pop, we were going to get vengeful Loki with a capital “V”.

Recent developments were very, very good for what I wanted for Dove. They were not so much for the fate of the world.

I chewed on the tip of my pen, thinking of a way to get this mess over with before Loki ever got the chance to find out that Dove had a thing for Arian supermen.

“Dove has calmed down a lot,” Bruce stepped up next to me, cleaning his glasses. “Sure she’s not the one with the bag of weed?”

“Nah, no weed on this one,” I muttered, still thinking but removing the pen from between my teeth, “I think that Dove has gone for a more… full-body therapy on this one.”

Banner looked at me, then at Dove, then at Cap, who was also just a little too chipper for the circumstances. As his eyes shifted from each person his eyebrows also got a bit higher, until they almost disappeared into his curly hair.

“You think?”

“I more than think. That, or Cap decided to help Dove get something from between her teeth. With his tongue.”

“Interesting.”

“Very.”

“Well, you were right about the Captain America having feelings for Dove thing.”

“I was.”

“Any idea how this is going to play out with Crazy Pants still hounding us?”

“No bleeping idea.”

Banner and I paused, taking notice of Cinderella who had just barreled into the room. Apparently he’d heard Dove had unlocked her door and had come to investigate. Wordlessly he came up next to her, wrapping his big, burly arms around her protectively – god, I swear each of his biceps was the size of her head – and put his chin on top of her head. He looked like he was brooding, though I wasn’t sure if that was something Cindy really did, so I guessed that his “brood” face was actually his “worried” face just in the wrong lighting.

“I apologize for my brother’s actions, sister,” I heard him murmur, though his murmur sounded like what most of us would consider your average talking voice. “Are you wounded?”

“Physically, no,” Dove assured, holding on to the big guy’s arms, “Mentally, a little bit, but it’s getting better.”

“I hear he offered you a ring? Is this a significant gesture in your realm?”

“Yes. On earth, when someone wishes to marry someone else, he or she offers his or her beloved a ring. Accepting and putting on the ring is how we accept the marriage proposal. Upon marriage the ring given for the proposal is either switched out for or paired with a secondary ring, which is a signifier that the person wearing it is now married,” Dove shrugged, explaining. After her mom’s fifth or sixth marriage, I’m guessing she became pretty familiar with the marriage process. “There are all these formalities to it, doing with what finger you wear the ring on, the stone used for the ring, the metal, things like that – and it of course varies from place to place, so there’s no specific science to it. But Loki’s intentions were clear, even if he didn’t do the proposal part right.”

Ha, Loki messed up his proposal. I found that oddly gratifying for some reason.

“Hmm, I see. However, you are not wearing a ring. Did you reject his offer?”

“Yes.”

“I see. This is for the best, I think. Loki has not shown desirable traits for a mate.”

“No, he hasn’t.”

I could see Cindy mulling this over, his arms still wrapped tightly around Dove – god, he really was just like one of those giant dogs that became protective of little kids – then nodding, finding this answer acceptable.

“Even if you have rejected his offer of marriage, you are still my sister, and I will defend you with my life. Does my brother know of your rejection?”

“Doubt it. He just sort of left me there with the ring and walked off.”

“My brother does a very poor job courting women, I think.”

“I think he does, too.”

“Even in Asgard you wait for an answer when you offer your goblet and sigil.”

“I really don’t think that he expected me to say no.”

“Then he is a fool.”

“He is.”

It was a bizarre exchange. Besides the way that you could almost believe you’d pulled their dialogue from a Shakespearian text, it was strange to watch how Dove changed as they talked about Loki: she wasn’t quite to “thees” and “thous”, but she sounded like one of them – like an Asgardian. Most days, even when power was peeling off of her in blue bursts, I still for the most part forgot that she wasn’t human anymore. Frankly, I think she did, too. But when she talked about Loki – man, it aged her, and you could see her become something… Else. I didn’t know if she knew she was talking like an Asgardian, but her voice lost all the emotion she usually carried and became cool and flat, like a thick sheet of ice over a lake. For a moment I wondered what would happen if she harnessed that cold blankness, and I realized the kid would be downright scary. For the first time I was really grateful that Dove was on our side and not the other team’s.

“I don’t think we need to worry about Loki,” Banner whispered to me, clearly having just observed the same thing I did. “I think, if it comes down to it, Dove has all it takes to take him down.”

“Yeah, I think she does,” I replied, reaching for a glass of bourbon and never taking my eyes off of her. Her eyes were flat now, calculating as she stared out onto the horizon – so different than they had been when she walked in. I noticed that her hand idly rested on her abdomen, protectively shielding the baby that was growing there.

“I think,” I continued, “If he pushes her hard enough, she just might snap.”



I stood overlooking the hollowed-out city from the top of a building, staring into the gaping eyes and yawning mouths formed by the city’s carcass. Still, even from here I could see how the city’s heart still beat, albeit feebly, from where the lights danced in the center. The dying city greeted the dawn, not realizing that it was the last dawn the city would ever see.

That wasn’t true. The inhabitants might not know what was in store, but the city did. I could tell from the uneasy hush that clung to the mantle of my armor, or the way the stones seemed to shift and the rubble blew across the vacant streets. The city was trembling, quavering, waiting for the fatal blow to fall like a rabbit trapped between the jaws of a mighty beast.

My love would not save this city. That would be the price of her unfaithfulness, of her gallivanting with the mortal soldier. She would come here to fight, but not in time. This would surely instill in her how she needed me if she ever were to succeed – that if she wanted my loyalty in her battle against Thanos, she would need to give all her loyalty to me.

I felt a twinge of regret. I did not enjoy punishing my beloved, and I knew this would cause her a great deal of pain. But she and her companions needed to know the might of my power, if they were unwilling to listen to reason and see the justice that I dealt. If she is to be my bride, then I cannot abide by her trickery and folly.

When she comes to mourn the dead here, as I was sure she would, I will take her in my arms and ease her suffering, turning her face to see the pain and suffering that could have been avoided if only she had listened. Then I will forgive her, and together we shall vanquish Thanos and all others in our path. I will have my kingdom, she shall have our child, and all shall be put right.

But for now, I had to assuage the warmonger. With a sigh I lifted my scepter, summoning from within myself the gateway to Thanos’ legions.

They descended, and the screams began. I oversaw them, watching the husks of rotten buildings crumble and fall in their wake.

“Such a pity,” I murmured to myself, my voice cutting over the chaos before me, “I truly was fond of that man’s drinks.”