Happy Birthday, JD! I hope you like this fic! I'm sorry that it's shorter than I'd had planned, but... well. I hope you like it anyway. Love you lots and lots and lots!
When Jane opens her eyes and blinks away the dazzling rainbow filter that had taken over her vision, she has to say that she's more than a little startled. She looks up at Thor, who grins warmly at her, and looks at their surroundings again.
"This isn't my apartment," she says.
Thor's grin grows wider. "I know," he says back.
She tears her eyes away from the hibiscus bush that's growing—well, flourishing, if she's being honest—not four feet away from her to look back up at her b—husband. Jeez, that's going to take some getting used to. His expression is relaxed, so this? What's happening? It's not something that went wrong, a mix-up with the Bifrost that will be taken care of swiftly and with many apologies. No… this is something he planned.
Maybe there was a misunderstanding, she thinks. A misunderstanding involving the very specific plans they'd discussed several times in minute detail before they'd gone through with this whole process. It has to be a misunderstanding. As she thinks this, she doesn't realize that she has yet to unwind her arms from Thor's waist, or that she's not done more than glare at the bush beside them, and the sand beneath their feet, and the line of palm trees not far away from… is that a cabana? It's totally a cabana.
This isn't a misunderstanding.
"Where are we?" she asks, finally giving in to the fact that she's not going to be able to suss it out solely from the (minimal) cloud cover and the position of the sun overhead.
Her husband (still weird, she's gonna have to look into that further) has not lost his grin since they touched down. "I believe you call this place Hawaii. It was highly recommended when I asked my fellows where we should adjourn after our celebrations. Stark in particular recommended this resort. He praised it for privacy and secludedness," he says.
Jane can't tell if he understands the full implication of what Tony Stark would have meant by those words. On the one hand, he's an alien from a completely different part of the universe. On the other hand, it is Thor, the king of underestimations. While subtlety isn't exactly his best area, he's certainly capable of it. She takes another look at his face. His expression is pleasant enough on the surface, warm and glowing as one might expect after the past few days they spent in Asgard. But when she looks closer… There is a bit of tension in him. His eyes are electric when he notices her looking at him, and his smile quirks a little deeper, a bit secretively, and he uses the arm he has around her shoulders to pull her closer. The kiss he presses to her temple is a living thing, squirming under her skin and into her bloodstream. She swallows. Thor definitely understood the full implication of Tony Stark's recommendation.
"Okay," she says. She finally pulls her arms from his waist and puts them between them, trying to make for a little space. Thor is greatly reluctant to let her go, but he's never been good at denying her something when she wants it. He lets go and she takes two small (very small) steps away from him and puts a hand to her head as she tries to figure this out. She continues, "Not that I don't appreciate the sentiment and all… but we were supposed to just go home. To my home. Where my very time-sensitive research is, and where you agreed we would go directly after all the ceremonies."
She wishes she could say that she expects even the slightest change of attitude in her husband, but the truth of the matter is that she just… doesn't. It's not in Thor's nature to be bothered by things like plans and schedules, though he does, usually, have respect for her own adherence to those things. He doesn't look at all phased, naturally, and instead uses one of his big, big hands to push a lock of hair behind her ear as hesmiles at her.
"My Jane, what makes you think the ceremonies are over just yet?" he asks. His voice is a low rumble, like—dare she say it—thunder distant on the horizon. She swallows again and has to take another step back. Even without moving, he manages to invade her space. And she doesn't mind it, usually, but she's trying to keep her head.
She moves further away, under the cover of the cabana, and takes a seat on the edge of a beautifully made bed. Even the luxurious sheets—and they would have to be luxurious, if this was a resort recommended by Tony Stark—can't truly hold a candle to the Asgardian gown that flows like water as it settles over her legs. Thor follows her to the cabana and takes a seat lightly next to her. His hand covers hers and something tingles up and down her spine. She tries to ignore it.
"I agreed to hold the wedding in Asgard because I knew it meant a lot to you," she begins. He nods, reaffirming that yes, it had indeed meant a lot to him, and his mother, and the rest of his people because they were all seriously adorable and traditional and alarmingly attached to her, considering how her first impression on them had gone. She continues, "I also agreed to hold the wedding n Asgard because you told me the ceremonies would only last a few days and wouldn't interfere with my—I will say this again—highly time-sensitive research in New York."
"And they have not," Thor says agreeably. She levels a look at him and he laughs. It doesn't boom, like it sometimes can, but it seems to fill the air around her all the same. "Jane, your research has been left in the capable hands of your comrades! Lady Darcy has returned to New York to oversee its management—" If he notices her wince, it doesn't stop him. "Doctor Selvig has volunteered to take over the main part of it, and Stark and Banner have offered their assistance. Everything is being taken care of."
For what isn't the first time, she wonders at how certain phrases transcend species and cultures. She looks at him, with those eyes that crinkle at the corners when he smiles at her, and the mouth that has promises tucked way in each corner, and the full weight of the past few days finally falls across her shoulders like a blanket. Something inside her warms.
"My Jane," he says again. Her cheeks go pink, because they always do when he calls her that, and his hand comes up to cup her face—not her cheek, it's just a bit too big for that. His thumb brushes over her cheekbone and she struggles with herself not to color even more. "Do you not trust me?"
Ugh. Why did he have to go and say a thing like that? "Of course I do—" she starts, exasperation starting to creep into her voice.
He doesn't pay it any mind. "Good," he says, and kisses her.
She squeaks a bit, because this was not in the plan.
They'd gone through with all of Asgard's traditions. They'd made their vows in front of the people, and sipped from the chalice of his father's father's father's… whatever, and taken a cutting from the ancient tree in his mother's garden to give to her own mother on Earth. They'd feasted for two days with his comrades and the Asgardian nobility, and toured the city in a chariot of some metal that she hadn't been able to identify. They'd finally retreated to his chamber last night, where they had both been so exhausted that they fell asleep the moment their heads hit the pillow. When Thor had told her their time in Asgard was over, she'd assumed that meant it was finally time to go home.
That is not what's happening. She tries once to break away from him, turning her head away and taking in great gulps of air. He doesn't seem to mind very much, because he immediately turns his attention to her jaw, and he does something with his tongue over her pulse point that makes her jump. The laugh that boils out of him doesn't fill the air, but it fills something else, and she makes a little sound that's desperate and frustrated and, God, wanting. When he starts to pull back again, maybe to get a look at her face, she makes the sound once more and pulls his head back up to hers.
For all the difference in size between them, Thor makes things very easy. She doesn't have the strength to pull and push him around as she might like, but with smiles—those secret smiles, the ones that send shivers down her spine—and the occasional grunt of laughter, he responds to all of her wordless commands. He leans down over her when she tugs on his shoulder, and wraps his arms around her when she grabs his hands with an insistent sound and pulls them towards her waist. When she opens her mouth, his tongue immediately slides inside—though he removes it again almost immediately when she lets out another one of those squeaking sounds and he has to laugh.
"Will you stop laughing at me," she hisses, tugging ineffectually at his armored shirt.
He hides his smile by tucking his face into her neck. "Only when you stop being funny," he says quietly, and he does that something on her pulse point again. She yelps, and whatever her fingers latched onto in her surprise helps her quest, because the shirt begins to fall away. It's her turn to let out a startled giggle when he clutches it to his chest, clearly caught off guard.
"How funny was that, hmm?" she says, smiling and biting her lip. Her eyebrows twitch up and down as she tries not to giggle again. He doesn't bother to respond, but his grin is wide as he pulls the armor away and peels the mail sleeves off his arms. The cape unlatched with the rest of his armor, and he allows it to fall to the side without care.
She is forced to press back into the pillows at the head of the bed as he leans over her, and a thrill runs up her spine when his hands come down on either side of her head. A knee comes down on either side of her and her breath stutters. His eyes are focused entirely on hers, and in spite of herself she can't help a smile.
Her husband (mmm, now that's starting to sound right) leans down to kiss her again, and she makes a mental note to call Darcy later and warn her not to let Stark anywhere near her data.