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“I really don’t see the point of this.”
Loki stood on what had once been the back porch before a blanket of snow enveloped the street. Flurries fell gently over his face, clinging to his hair and eyelashes. He blinked them away and adjusted the collar of his winter coat, pulling it over his ears. No matter how hard the snow fell, he wouldn’t put a hat on. It was ugly, he’d say. Made a mess of his hair.
He would pay the ultimate price for his vanity.
As the wad of watery snow on his chest slid down his stomach, Jane prepared another snowball. “The point is having fun. What more do you need?”
“A less messy game perhaps?”
Jane rolled her eyes. What kind of man had she married? Would happily wake her up with snake fingers on her stomach but couldn’t take one snowball. He was so lucky he was cute.
“I think you’re just afraid I’ll beat you,” Jane said.
Loki frowned. “ You will beat me. ”
“That’s right,” Jane grinned, and did he really have to say it like she’d just told him Santa was real? “I mean, if you refuse to even play the game, then I win by default. Are you just going to hand me victory? That’s not the Loki I know.”
“You are trying to provoke me.”
“Is it working?”
“I don’t know, is it?”
Oh, so that’s how he was going to be. Jane should’ve known. Nothing was ever easy with Loki. Hell, just getting together with him, that story could fill ten books with the build-up alone.
“Well, if you really don’t want to.” She leaned against a snowbank in defeat. “I guess there’s nothing I can say that’ll-”
It wasn’t a perfect snowball, more like a snow wad. Her aim was not the best, she’d have to get a little closer if she wanted to hit his face. Stepping forward, she caught a pocket of loose snow. Her foot sunk in up to the ankle, the burst of cold making her gasp and twist. The snow wad flew, not at his head, but significantly lower.
Jane squeaked. Loki staggered. It couldn’t really hurt him, of course, but as his unharmed face contorted and soggy snow splattered across his pants, Jane felt her stomach sink all the way to her feet.
“Oh shit,” she said, covering her mouth. “Oh shit, Loki, I am sorry. I didn’t- I was aiming for your face, I swear.”
The front of his pants was now fully white. Instead of banishing the mess, Loki stared at her, eyebrows lost in his hairline. A smile crept in, so slowly Jane mistook it for a grimace. By the time she realized the truth, his eyes were glowing.
“If you want war,” he whispered, raising his arms, "then, my dear, you shall get war.”
The snow around him trembled, and then twenty perfect snowballs rose into the air, like troops flanking a ruthless general.
“Loki, don’t you dare-” Jane said, but it was far too late.
Shrieking with laughter, she ran through the barrage. It was useless to fight back, so it was time for a tactical retreat. Each icy ball landed soft as a pillow on her back. Whenever she thought she’d outrun them, more blocked her path.
“I believe I win,” Loki called after her.
“You’re a jerk,” Jane wheezed. She couldn’t stop giggling, and she didn’t even see the rock jutting out of the snow.
She fell face first, leaving a Jane-shaped hole in the snow. Gathering her bearings, Jane rolled on her back. The sky was white and clear, beautiful even without stars for once. The iron rain of snow was over. Loki was at her side, smirking triumphantly.
“Okay yeah, you win,” Jane said, as he laid with her in the snow and pressed his lips to hers.