These violent delights have violent ends
And in their triump die, like fire and powder
Which, as they kiss, consume
- William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
Loki's POV
Puente Antiguo, New Mexico
Nine months to the day since Malekith's forces had invaded Asgard, Jane Foster had been safely returned to the realm where she belonged. The All-Father considered that it was too dangerous for her to stay in Asgard, and had instructed Thor to return her to her home.
Except it wasn't Thor who went with her.
It was Loki.
During the duration of the war, the God of Mischief had found himself drawn to the fiery, intelligent mortal woman. He'd only made such emotions – affection? Fondness? Love? – known when Malekith had tried to kill the astrophysicist. At first Thor had been furious, but in the end he'd relented.
This was mostly because the astrophysicist had voiced her preference for the trickster, and Thor's sense of honor told him that to keep two people from being together was unjust.
Loki's return to Midgard was surrounded by a series of "public" appearances, which he ignored for the most part. He had no desire to be placed under such scrutiny; he was, for all intensive purposes, a weary warrior who wanted nothing more but to spend time with the woman he held much affection for.
Now, however, what sleep he had in mind was interrupted by the soft creaking of the door, followed by the light footsteps that, he knew, was Jane trying to slip out unnoticed. With bleary eyes, Loki slowly stood, following her out of the bedroom they'd taken to sharing (something that had made the intern choke over her breakfast).
"This is the third time you've checked your papers, Jane Foster. Do not make me tie you to the bed to keep you from doing so again; you seem to have an aversion to that."
Jane's POV
The astrophysicist pivoted swiftly on her heels in nothing flat, the merest sound of his familiar, silken voice quickly ridding herself of the ability to breathe momentarily — a little too taken aback, and startled like she always was. Her hand instinctively flew atop her chest, fingers grasping the fabric of her shirt, calming the frantic thundering of her heart while her rigid stance immediately melted, and thankfully, faded away the exact instance her warm, caramel orbs met those keen, piercing evergreen ones.
"Loki," the astrophysicist murmured softly, sighing in relief as she shifted on her foot, loosening her hold on the plaid top she'd worn all throughout the day. The God of Mischief crossed his arms impatiently as his gaze focused on her small frame, simply prompting her for an answer with regards to his latter… 'proposal'. The scene wasn't entirely new to Jane, nonetheless, and in fact, it happened many times before... Ever since they'd….
Random images of the events that had conspired roughly nine months ago flashed rapidly through her mind — the Dark Elves, the Accursed, the God of Thunder, the Trickster, and…her. The little 'mortal' whose life was nearly taken during the battle in Svartalfheim, only to be rescued by a certain someone that had once claimed to bore hatred over her. "You are safe," the God of Mischief whispered, just as he crouched on top of her, deflecting any pursuers that headed their way.
Everything started from there and then, causing her whole world to alter in every plausible extremes, as though the Fates had changed her path and had directed her to a new course. And it had taken them what, exactly? A never- ending fight? An all- too consuming kiss — to erase everything she'd known about the God of Mischief and solely see him as what he truly was? "You're not a monster, Loki," she'd told him, after finally uttering those three words that meant the entire nine realms for her.
"Well?" the God of Mischief cleared his throat, jerking her off of her train of thought as her attention abruptly snapped back to him. Jane's brows furrowed slightly, remembering his previous statement of having her… She pursed her lips in response, raising her chin heavenwards to level her stare with his whilst she spoke, "No. No. And no. There's no freakin' way that I'd —". The rest of her sentence had been cut off when Loki bent on his knees and fluidly scooped her in his arms, ignoring the astrophysicist's protests and disregarding her sheer disapproval.
Author's Note: This story is a direct result of one of my roleplay threads with a Jane Foster roleplayer (thatwasfornewyork); she wrote the parts in Jane's point of view, hence the possible difference in writing styles. Each chapter is a result of our interactions, and will be updated as soon as a reply is published. Feedback is always welcome, and I hope you enjoy reading this. :)