Loki was dragging his feet behind him, his gaze an icy, angry glare. He followed the dancing red curls of Natasha Romanoff and the confident walk of Tony Stark. He would have given anything to not be here, but they had all insisted he would come along on their weekly shopping spree to something the Midgardian’s called a supermarket. Loki wasn’t used to getting his food himself, let alone make it. He didn’t like it one bit.
He hadn’t even begin to contemplate the weirdness of it all. He, the rightful ruler of Asgard, was walking along a cleaning aisle with the same group of people he had tried to kill just a few years
‘Just show me…’ Steve cried out to you, sighing.
‘I don’t know,’ you replied to you best friend of three years. ‘I don’t think it suits me.’ You looked at yourself in the mirror, wearing the dress you had bought a few hours earlier to wear to a party Tony Stark was hosting in Stark Tower. It hugged your body and floated around you as you walked. It was truly a beautiful dress, but you didn’t know if you were confident enough to wear it.
‘Yeah… I bet you look awful in it’, Steve sighed again. In the time you had been in your bedroom he had put on the suit Tony had