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Jen’s afterglow is fading as she walks down the dim, draughty corridor lined with flickering torches. Even so, she can’t help smiling as she hugs the black satin dressing gown against her body. It’s not hers, but she might just keep it.
There’s only one downside to hot sex with an Asgardian goddess: the long-ass walk of shame down endless Asgardian corridors. Her feet ache from a night of dancing, her face aches from smiling so much, and… everything else aches in a very pleasant way.
Bruce probably noticed Hela flirting with her. Actually, everyone probably noticed. The Avengers had been summoned to a long, boring, official meeting that boiled down to “yeah, Loki took out half of New York but he’s very sorry and he won’t do it again”. He’d been imprisoned (for now), but Odin clearly didn’t think Earth was his problem. Tony sassed the crap out of him and Steve struggled to keep the peace. Meanwhile, Jen had stared at the gorgeous gothic princess sitting opposite her and entertained some filthy daydreams.
Hela, the goddess of death, had long black hair and eyeshadow that belonged at a rock concert, with a deep and sultry voice. She seemed equally bored by the proceedings. Perhaps that was why those grey eyes had finally locked onto hers. Then her pale lips curled into a smile.
After the Endless Meeting, some of Thor’s drinking buddies had invited them to a night of feasting and revelry, and really, it’d be rude to turn that down. She danced with Sif and stole Volstagg’s wine and sang with Skurge and –
'Do you intend to avoid me all night?' Suddenly, those lovely grey eyes were right in front of her. Hela stood with her hands on her hips and holy shit she was so tall.
‘If you wanted a dance, you could have asked.’ Jen had been dancing for hours and she wasn’t tired yet. Asgardian wine was magic.
Hela chuckled deeply. ‘Mortals tire so easily. I wouldn’t want to exhaust our fragile new allies.’
As bodies whirled around them, Jen took a bold step closer. Cold air emanated from Hela like an open refrigerator, raising goosebumps on her heated skin. ‘I’m stronger than I look.’
‘Very well.’ Hela stepped closer still, and cold hands slipped into hers. ‘Would you dance with death, darling?’
Jen giggled. Oops. Wine. ‘Do you use that line on everyone? If so, oh my god it’s working yes please dance with me.’
Someone steps out at the far end of the corridor.
Jen falters. Ghost? Serial killer? The figure is too far away to see clearly; the corridor is like half a mile long.
When in doubt, act like you own the place. Jen shifts into She-Hulk form, her steps heavier. If it’s a ghost she's punching it, noncorporeality be damned.
Then the figure waves awkwardly, and she recognises the slouching walk. She shifts back down. 'Bruce...?' But Bruce is too far away and she doesn't want to shout, so they can only give each other puzzled looks.
Minutes pass. Bruce gets slowly closer. The silence becomes awkward. Man, this place is too big. Who needs corridors this long? Maybe it's for angsty Asgardian strolls. Loki seems the type.
As Bruce gets nearer, she notices that he's wrapped in a big red blanket. He's also limping slightly. Shit. Did she miss a code green? But she recognises the look on Bruce's face. He's not upset, he's... sheepish.
‘Morning,' Bruce says when they're finally in range. His glasses are missing. He squints at her black robes. 'What are you wearing?'
Jen grins guiltily. 'I may have made a slight detour on the way back to my room.'
He laughs. 'Hela? Really?'
'You noticed?'
'Did I see the two of you eye-fucking for the whole meeting? Yes, I noticed. You have the scariest taste in women.'
Jen shrugs. 'Guilty as charged, your honour. More importantly, what are you wearing?’
On closer inspection, Bruce's blanket is in fact a very familiar red cloak. An oversized lace-up shirt has replaced yesterday's sweater. As he shifts awkwardly, the cloak slips down a little, revealing a row of bite marks down his neck.
‘Did you hook up with Thor?’
His mouth twists to the side in a modest sort of way. 'I'm not really sure how it happened.’
'Hey, I'm happy for you. I know you kinda hit it off earlier.’ Jen had been the last to know that Bruce was back in New York, but she’d seen the way they looked at each other. Bruce had been bummed when Thor went back home for a while.
He falls into step beside her. ‘And now we’re fleeing the scene of the crime.’
‘Yup. God, I hope we get more meetings. I’m down for another five-hour debate.’
‘Please, no,’ Bruce laughs. Then he considers. ‘Actually, I could be convinced.’
By the time they reach the end of the corridor and turn the corner, sunlight is streaming through the high, arched windows.
‘You hungry?’ Jen asks.
‘Starving,’ Bruce replies. ‘You really want to go to breakfast like this?’
‘Who else is gonna be up this early? Everyone else will be in bed with hangovers.’ The perks of a Hulk-enforced liver. If she’s honest though, she wants to walk around in Hela’s dressing gown just a little longer.
As they walk through the deserted feasting hall, Bruce suddenly chuckles. ‘Between us, we just covered two thirds of Odin’s heirs.’
‘Yeah, we did.’ She holds her hand up for a high-five. Bruce gracefully declines. ‘Loki’s gonna feel left out.’
‘It’s okay, he can have Ched.’
‘They’d probably get on well, actually. We should set them up on a blind date.’
After raiding the kitchens, they eat bread and honey on a balcony overlooking the city. ‘I could get used to this,’ Jen muses.
Bruce stares pensively at the golden buildings below. It’s the most content she’s seen him in years. ‘Me too.’
She elbows him. ‘Look at us. Team Hulk, saving the world, getting laid with Norse gods.’ It’s not the life she’d imagined for herself, but… it’s not bad.
Bruce smiles back at her. ‘You’re never giving that dressing gown back, are you?’
Jen beams and ties a knot in the belt. ‘Nope.’