Blind Date

Chapter Thirteen

Loki had a chance to pack before leaving this time, but he was only taking a small trunk of his most precious possessions. He packed a few magical artefacts, seeds for some Asgardian plants that he used in potions and hoped to grow on Midgard. A few mementos of Frigga, magic tomes and the book of Midgardian healing magic, in case Saga should need it again.

She reclined on the bed, back wearing her Midgardian garb now, watching him pack.

So what's an ást?" she finally remembered to ask.

"'My ást' means 'my love'."

"Aww," she smiled at him. "I ást you too."

"Yes, I know," he grinned salaciously at her.

"You know that when I'm upset with you now, I'm going to all you an ást-hole."

Loki chuckled.

"And when you're being an idiot, I'll call you a dumb ást. And if you put on weight, you'll be a fat ást. And when you're being cheap, I'll call you a tight ást."

"I'm glad you're a scientist not a comedian. I'm sure that starvation wouldn't look good on you."

Saga threw a pillow at him for his impertinence.

"You know what I'm really going to miss about this place?" she asked seriously while enjoying the shape of his butt in his leather pants as he bent over.

"The view?" he guessed.

"Well this view is stunning, but it's coming with me," she quipped.

He wiggled his bum, then turned and winked at her.

"Then how about the wine?"

"Nope."

"Fine, what are you going to miss about Asgard," he asked, perusing his book shelves for any other books me might require.

"Those shoes," she pouted.

"Shoes?"

"Have you ever actually worn human shoes?"

"No, my boots are Asgardian."

"Pack spares," she advised. "Lots of spares."

"Why?" Loki approached with his hands held out and a pair of ladies shoes appeared there. "I can always conjure more."

"Cool!" she got to her knees and accepted the shoes, almost reverently.

They were black with a small heel, multi-purpose. To date she'd only witnessed very minor feats of magic, nothing like creating something from nothing.

"Do they come in different colours?"

"They can come in any colour or style you would like." With a wave of his hand, the heels grew another inch.

She lay down on her back, clutching the shoes to her chest and kicked her legs in the air in glee.

Loki chuckled as he returned to his packing, not really understanding the reasons for her happiness, but enjoying it nonetheless.

"You know, if you sold these on Earth, you'd be a millionaire overnight."

"I will need a source of income," he mused.

"I was only kidding."

"I know, but it's true. Stark resents my presence so once I have a choice, I have no intentions of living off his charity."

Saga thought it was a pretty good idea, really. She had no idea how many pairs Loki could conjure in a day, or before he ran out of magical 'juice', but people were already willing to pay a small fortune for good looking shoes, how much more would they pay for ones that were also as comfortable as walking on air?