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The SimNation Science Convention hummed with conversation, camera flashes, and the occasional hiss and pop of experimental machinery. Reporters crowded around their booth long before the scheduled demonstration, eager to catch a glimpse of Strangetown’s most infamous couple. Officially, nobody was allowed to talk about what happened with the Beakers at last year’s event. Unofficially, they still did.
Loki had long ago learned to tune out applause. It was the whispers that interested him. They always thought they were quiet enough.
"Those are the Beakers."
"The Black Hole Beakers?"
"The one and only."
He continued tightening the crystal calibrator without looking up. Let them speculate. The truth belonged to only two people, the better half of which was humming contentedly beside him while polishing brass with enough affection that one might mistake the machine for a beloved pet. But Loki knew better.
Circe did not polish machinery because she cared particularly about keeping it clean. She polished it because she was thinking. Her fingers moved almost absently over the brass casing, her chocolate eyes fixed somewhere beyond the convention floor. Every few seconds, her thumb tapped against the metal in a precise little rhythm.
Loki smiled to himself. She had an idea. He loved when she had ideas. They were rarely sensible. They were almost always brilliant. And, on several memorable occasions, they had violated at least three recognized laws of physics.
It was a preposterous tale that ran amok about them—that Circe would ever accidentally create a microscopic black hole in the demonstration hall, or that he would cover it up if she had. His wife performed everything with a practiced and systematic hand, and she would never be caught dead breaking open the space-time continuum on a mere whim.
Not without calculations.
Probably.
And when she did finally break that barrier, Loki would be the first to bask in her glory, relentless peanut gallery be damned.
He had learned long ago that other scientists found Circe alarming. Loki found her fascinating. Where other people saw chaos, he saw experimentation. Where they saw recklessness, he saw confidence. And where they saw madness–
Well.
Loki only saw his lovely wife.
"Five simoleons says someone asks if we're trying to conquer the world again," Circe murmured to his ears alone.
Loki didn't look up from the tiny magnifying lenses perched on the end of his nose. "They already have."
Circe sighed dramatically, tossing her oily rag into a bin beneath the booth. "How I hate losing bets."
“They can hardly be blamed. It is impossible to deny your talent.” Loki glanced over to see Circe grinning at him.
"You flatter me, Mr. Beaker. Never stop."
"I would never dare, Mrs. Beaker. And by today's end, neither will they."
A burst of applause signaled the judges' arrival as the crowd around their booth parted to let them through.
Circe, much better at the act than him, engaged in pleasantries for a few moments. Loki took off his lenses and surveyed the crowd that was rapidly spreading. Ripples of excitement extended like a tide, all eyes turned their way while a familiar head of blonde hair above the stupidest glasses smirked at him from somewhere in the back. Loki frowned.
His wife cleared her throat, and Loki quickly put on a polite smile instead. She was giving him their signal. He reached for the activation switch as the room seemed to hold its breath all at once.
A crackling surge of blue sparks wound up within the glass shell of their invention, only to stall unexpectedly.
Nothing was happening. How odd.
Loki's brow furrowed. He removed the panel from the side of the machine, studied the wiring for exactly three seconds, and let out the smallest of sighs. "Darling."
Circe came over immediately, touching the side of her head to her husband's as they privately observed their inert machine.
"...Yes dear?"
"It would seem we have been cheated."
Across the room, Vidcund Curious suddenly became very interested in reading a brochure. Circe followed Loki's gaze, her sharp eyes narrowing to a hawkish point over her tinted glasses.
"...He cheated?" The disgust in her voice was typical of Vidcund, but this was a new low, even for him.
"I believe he assumed I wouldn't notice the capacitor had been rewired. And the stink of his cologne is burned into this facet here." Loki suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Amateur.
Circe stared at the exposed circuitry.
Then at Vidcund.
Then back at Loki.
Her eyes softened for him and only him. A slow, delighted smile spread across her face. "Oh." She gently closed the toolbox in Loki's hands, the callouses on her palm matching his.
"You've already repaired it, haven't you, my dear?"
He nodded simply. "I have."
"And you could simply continue the demonstration?"
Loki offered her a humble dip of his chin in agreement.
Circe tugged gently on the end of his goatee. It was as much affection as she would display in a public setting, and Loki nearly purred at the contact before remembering their onlookers.
Another smile tugged at Circe's mouth.
Loki watched the tiny mole beneath her lower lip twitch with barely contained delight.
He knew that smile. And oh, how he adored it.
Most people mistook it for mischief. Loki knew better. It was calculation. By the time Circe smiled like that, she'd already solved the problem three different ways and was deciding which would be the most entertaining. Unfortunately for Vidcund, she appeared to have made up her mind quite quickly.
"Circe," Loki breathed.
"I'm just going to perform a few educational demonstrations."
There would be no argument. There never was when Circe decided to defend him. Loki's role, as always, was simply to hand her the correct wrench. He had long ago accepted that loving his wife meant occasionally becoming an accessory to scientific crimes.
She was so beautiful when she was plotting.
"I think they shall learn a great deal indeed," Loki agreed, squeezing his wife’s hands once in both of his.
And he was looking forward to it.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Circe announced moments later as she paced the length of the crowd, drawing them in even further. "Before my brilliant husband unveils his latest invention, we'd like to demonstrate a new piece of equipment we've been developing."
A collective flinch traveled through the crowd, but the greedy eyes of science could not look away.
Loki wheeled out a compact brass machine with several polished tubes. "The Microscopic Contaminant Analyzer," he explained.
"It detects foreign particles introduced into delicate scientific equipment," Circe added brightly.
One of the judges nodded appreciatively. "Very impressive."
Circe smiled. "Oh, it has other applications."
Loki glanced at her. That was new. He knew that tone.
"What sort of applications?" someone asked.
Circe clasped her hands behind her back. "Oh, nothing important."
Loki's mouth twitched. She was lying. She had absolutely no idea what those applications were yet. That was precisely what made her so dangerous.
The analyzer emitted a pleasant chime when he turned it on. A glowing projection appeared overhead, blank before Loki turned the machine toward the crystal calibrator. A beautifully detailed image of Loki's machine was transposed onto the projection...followed by a bright red, pulsing highlight around a single rewired capacitor.
"Oh, dear," Circe sighed, hand over her mouth. "That doesn't look factory installed."
The judges leaned forward, clipboards clutched in their hands forgotten.
Loki calmly consulted the readout. "Hm." He tapped one line. "It estimates the alteration occurred approximately seventeen minutes ago."
"What remarkable precision," Circe added, clapping her hands until the crowd joined in, louder and louder.
Across the aisle, Vidcund began sweating.
Loki and Circe shared a secret smile, and Loki stepped aside without a word.
There were few spectacles in SimNation more entertaining than watching Circe work. She was not merely clever. She was inventive. She could look at an ordinary scientific problem and become fascinated by the possibility of solving it in the most unnecessarily complicated way imaginable.
Once, she'd spent four hours trying to build a device that could determine whether milk had spoiled without opening the carton. When Loki had pointed out that smelling it would accomplish the same thing, she'd stared at him for several seconds. Then she'd said: "Yes, but this is science."
He had kissed her immediately. He had never been able to resist her when she got that look in her eyes.
"Circe?"
She turned. "Yes, darling?"
"Do you have any idea what you're doing?"
"No."
Loki smiled. "Excellent."
Circe’s eyes sparkled with barely contained delight as she threw a wink his way.
After a brief round of applause for the analyzer, Circe unveiled another invention. "This," she declared, "is our Electromagnetic Alignment Demonstrator."
"It keeps loose tools organized," Loki explained, taking the device from Circe and waving it like a wand.
"Assuming they're actually yours," Circe added, holding her hand out. Loki diligently handed her genius back. She flipped the switch and the machine gave a cheerful hum before every loose wrench, screwdriver, and metal fastener in the demonstration hall rattled in alignment to true north.
Then, with alarming enthusiasm, half a dozen tools shot directly toward Vidcund. A pair of pliers clung to his belt. Three screwdrivers attached themselves to his coat. A suspiciously familiar gold-handled precision wrench–engraved Property of L. Beaker–slapped neatly against his chest, snapping his nametag right off.
The room fell silent.
Circe simply blinked. "Oh." She tilted her head. "Loki, dear...isn't that your wrench?"
Loki smoothed his fingers down his beard, contemplating. "I was wondering how it got out of my locked toolbox."
Several judges slowly turned to look at Vidcund as he attempted to peel the wrench off his jacket. From the neck up he was beet red. Luckily, the wrench refused to budge.
A delighted little laugh escaped Circe's lips.
Loki turned her way. He stepped closer. She was worth every simoleon they'd spent building those electromagnets. Loki had heard that laugh in laboratories, at home over breakfast, and once while patching a microscopic tear in reality.
It never failed to make him smile. Just as she never failed to amaze.
Furtively, he slipped his arm beneath Circe's crisp lab coat, fingers grazing warm skin just beneath the hem of her blouse.
She gasped softly but leaned in further, mirth sparkling in her eyes as his palm cupped her hip and tugged her closer.
"There is nothing I desire more than watching you work," he whispered onto the shell of her ear. He could feel the small shiver that ran down her back, smell the faintest hints of machine oil and ozone on her skin.
As she gripped the lapel of his lab coat with one hand, Circe spoke proudly, though her eyes kept dragging down to his lips distractedly. "There is no greater work than being yours, Loki Beaker."
Loki smiled.
Hopeless.
He was absolutely hopeless over her. He could listen to her explain quantum mechanics for six hours and still find himself more interested in the way her eyes lit up when she reached the part that everyone else thought was entirely convoluted.
His wife was brilliant. His wife was strange. His wife was possibly insane.
She was perfect.
"Oh! Before I forget, there's one more invention I'd simply love to demonstrate."
Loki dutifully wheeled out a polished copper camera mounted atop an oak tripod and bowed in her direction. "The Beaker Chronographic Resonance Camera."
"It reconstructs the recent history of an object through residual quantum echoes," Circe explained. "Matter remembers far more than people give it credit for."
A skeptical murmur swept through the audience.
Circe beamed, utterly unfazed. "Let's ask our poor capacitor what happened to it then, shall we?" She nestled the rewired component into the camera's cradle before pressing the activation switch. Soft blue light spiraled upward, gathering into the shape of Loki's workbench.
Then came another figure.
Vidcund Curious.
Scratching his face. Looking both ways. Guilty as always.
He was shown glancing over both shoulders before hurriedly removing the panel, rewiring the capacitor, fumbling his screwdriver, and sneezing loudly into his sleeve before scampering away.
But not before pilfering Loki's prized wrench from its secure home. It had been a wedding gift from Circe and Vidcund knew it, the fool.
The image dissolved. The camera chimed politely.
Circe stared at the machine. Then at the projection. Then back at the machine. A strange, almost childlike wonder crossed her face.
Loki knew that expression as well. Not triumph. Not mischief. Discovery.
It was one of his favorite things about her. She didn't simply enjoy being right. She enjoyed learning something she'd never known before.
"Matter really does remember," she whispered, eyes alight.
Loki watched her rather than the machine. "Of course it does." She looked at him. There was that smile again. And Loki's heart did the ridiculous little thing it always did whenever she looked at him like that.
"You're staring," Circe murmured.
"I know."
"At the invention?"
"No."
Her smile softened.
The room slowly turned toward Vidcund.
Loki adjusted his coat casually. "I do believe," he observed, "the mystery has resolved itself."
Across the room, Vidcund looked as though he wished a black hole of his very own would appear and swallow him whole.
Loki looked instead to his wife.
She was trying–and failing spectacularly–to suppress the pleased smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
She.
Was.
Brilliant.
As always.
His always.
By the time Loki finally demonstrated the repaired crystal calibrator, the audience's attention was unwavering. Circe had kept them entertained the entire half hour by ousting Vidcund, and they were ready for the finale.
The machine had purred to life without a hitch, stabilizing the volatile energy crystal in a halo of shimmering blue light. His wife's favorite color, and an homage to Loki's greatest muse, who lived in every invention that passed through his fingers, and even more impressively, throughout each chamber of his heart.
Applause thundered through the hall. One of the judges approached him and Circe with a broad smile. "An extraordinary recovery."
Loki inclined his head modestly. "Thank you. It is all due to my wife."
As the crowd dispersed, Circe leaned against his shoulder. "I could've done worse."
"I know."
"I actually showed restraint."
"I know."
She looked positively pleased with herself.
Loki smiled again. His cheeks were hurting with all the effort today, and he was very proud. "Thank you."
She looked at him in surprise. "For what?"
"For kicking his ass in public without lifting a finger."
"For you, anything." She slipped her hand into his, and together they strolled out of the exhibition hall while Vidcund was still trying to pry Loki's wrench off his jacket. The tracking magnet embedded in it would set it home soon enough, but Loki thought Vidcund could use the stress.
The convention hall had begun to empty by the time he and Circe packed away their inventions. Judges lingered in small groups, still discussing the magnetic field demonstration. A reporter hurried after them, hoping for one last interview, but Vidcund intercepted them first.
"You think you're so clever," he snapped, his face still pink from the afternoon's humiliations as he tossed the wrench at Loki, who caught it with ease. "You rigged every one of those demonstrations, Beaker."
Circe raised an incredulous eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"
"You planned all of it. The analyzer. The magnetics. You made me look like an idiot."
Loki looked genuinely puzzled. "No," he said evenly. "You accomplished that yourself."
A nearby physicist snorted into her coffee.
Vidcund ignored her. "You've always hidden behind theatrics. Everyone acts like you're untouchable because of what happened last year–"
"Ah," Circe interrupted with a tone of finality. "So that's what this was about."
Vidcund's jaw tightened.
"You couldn't stand that people were excited to see Loki's work more than yours."
"It isn't fair!"
"No," Circe agreed with surprising sincerity. "It wasn't."
For one hopeful second, Vidcund looked vindicated.
Then she stepped closer. "It wasn't fair that my husband spent six months perfecting his invention while you spent six minutes rewiring it." The smile she gave was dazzling, a Black Hole all on its own, sucking Loki in at every moment. "You should have challenged him honestly."
Loki rested a gentle hand on the small of her back. "I would have enjoyed that."
"You probably would've won," Circe added.
"I do believe so."
"But now we'll never know."
Vidcund opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
Nothing came out.
Circe gave an exaggerated sigh. "What a shame. I do love a proper scientific rivalry." She turned away as though Vidcuind had already ceased to be interesting.
"Loki, dear?"
"Yes?"
"I believe we still have one invention left to demonstrate."
He frowned slightly. "We do?"
She smiled at him with unmistakable affection. "This one isn't for the judges."
Understanding dawned almost immediately. "Oh."
She slipped both hands into his lab coat, tugged him down by the lapels, and kissed him soundly in the middle of the convention floor.
It wasn't rushed. It wasn't shy. It was the kind of kiss shared by two people completely certain of each other–equal parts celebration, gratitude, and the quiet promise that whatever ridiculous experiment came next, they would tackle it together.
When they finally pulled apart, Circe's glasses had slipped slightly crooked, unmasking the tint of madness that lived forever so beautifully in her eyes.
Loki reached up and straightened them with practiced ease. "There."
"Thank you."
"You've had a very successful day."
"I believe we both have."
Behind them, someone whispered, "They're disgustingly in love." Another scientist sighed dreamily. "I know."
Vidcund made a frustrated noise somewhere in the background. Neither Loki nor his lovely wife acknowledged it. Hand in hand, they walked toward the exit, already discussing revisions to next year's prototype.
"I've been thinking about the magnetic field generator," Loki began.
Circe's eyes lit up. "Oh?"
"I believe it could use thirty percent more range. For keeping out the riff-raff, of course."
She laughed, squeezing his hand.
"Now that's my husband."
They made it three more steps. Circe stopped.
Loki looked over.
She was staring into the middle distance again. That look. The one he knew better than anyone. "Oh no," he murmured.
She turned toward him. "I've just had an idea."
Loki felt his heart flutter. "What sort of idea?"
"The magnetic field could be amplified through a localized quantum resonance chamber."
He considered this. "That sounds dangerous."
"Extremely."
"Unstable?"
"Almost certainly."
"Potentially catastrophic?"
Circe smiled. "Only if we do it incorrectly."
Loki stared at her for a moment. Then his lips slowly curved upward. "Well." He squeezed her hand. "Let's do it correctly."
Circe laughed, bright and delighted, and tugged him toward the doors. Behind them, the whispers of the convention followed them one final time.
"The Beakers..."
"...still the couple to beat."
And somewhere in the back of Loki's mind, another thought lingered.
Not the couple to beat. Only his brilliant, impossible, magnificent wife.
And if she ever did manage to tear another hole in reality?
Well. Loki would be right there beside her. Holding the wrench.