Jane likes to think that she is a rational woman; after all, she's studied astrophysics and spends her free time playing Sudoku while her equipment is searching space. Darcy always complains that she needs to lighten up, though, and that's why she finds herself in a short red dress of her friend's one Friday night, dragged to some dance club where the music feels like it's reshuffling the contents of her brain. She sits at a bar stool and watches the writhing couples that have swarmed the dance floor.
"C'mon," Darcy moans next to her. "The whole point of a dance club is the dancing."
"And, apparently, contracting an STD," Jane says, turning back to the bar. "I think I'll just have another Coke instead. Order it for me? I'm gonna see if I can navigate my way to the bathroom."
Jane hears Darcy sigh as she begins to place her drink order, and Jane pushes her way through the throng, hoping to get a moment to herself amid all the noise. She's nearly made it, the women's bathroom sign in site, when she trips over something that brushes against her foot, clad in a thin, tall heel, and she plummets to the floor with a scream and a crash.
"Are you all right?" A distinctly British accent asks the question, and Jane looks up in confusion because that's the last type of voice she expects to hear in a crowded, darkened dance bar. Green eyes stare down at her, and a hand reaches down to grab her own. When she is pulled from what seems like one of the most embarrassing positions of her life, she manages to enter another; somehow, she finds herself nearly standing on the feet of this stranger, his very handsome face (No, Jane, she tells herself, We are NOT going there) so close that they're practically sharing air.
"I- I'm sorry," she stutters, pulling back a bit.
"Oh no, the fault's mine; you tripped over my cane, which I rather stupidly had laid in the floor," he says, and she has a brief moment where she wonders about why in the world a man who is probably only nearing the ends of his twenties needs a cane (Probably because he's a pretentious prick, she thinks) when he interrupts her train of thought.
"I've got a bit of a bum leg," he says. "Hopefully, I didn't give you one; do you feel all right?" he asks.
Jane almost says she's fine, ready to hurry away, but then she finds herself replying, "Well, when don't you help me back to my friend at the bar, just in case?"
He nods and loops his arm through hers, and Jane is torn between being pretty pleased with her successful attempt at flirting and wanting to ram her own head into a wall because this charming man, despite the ever so slight limp in his walk, seems to radiate the kind of confidence that has left her heartbroken before. Her mental debate stops, however, when she finally reaches Darcy and taps her back; the other woman turns around, and her mouth drops at the site of the man on Jane's arm.
"Whoa, who's this?" Darcy asks, and Jane grins at the complete awe on her face and in her voice before realizing that she actually doesn't know the answer to that question. She turns to her new companion and says, "I'm sorry, but I just realized that I haven't even introduced myself. I'm Jane Foster, and this is my friend, Darcy Lewis. Darcy, this is-."
"Loki, Loki Laufeyson. I'm glad to officially meet the both of you. How is your leg now, Jane?"
Darcy gives her friend a confused look, and so Jane quickly explains how she slipped. Darcy nods along before saying to Loki, "So basically you're her knight in shining suit and cane, nice. Now all you need is a top hat and a better leg, and you're guaranteed a run on Broadway!" Jane winces at her friend's sarcastic humor, but Loki grins and Jane's anxiety eases at the exact same moment that her stomach begins to tie in knots because suddenly he's turning to smile at her.
Breaking eye contact because she feels like he can surely see the pink and red patches forming all across her face, Jane clears her throat and says, "Darcy, where's my drink?"
Conversation with Loki becomes easier to navigate as the night presses on, and Jane only begins to realize why after she's had her fourth Coke. She's been letting Darcy order for her because she's so wrapped up in getting to know the strangely compelling man next to her, and it takes her too long to notice that she's giggling at every word he says, even his breathing. "Darcy," she slurs, "what am I drinking again?"
"Oh, just some Coke."
"Then why do I feel so funny?"
"Probably the fine-grade vodka or whatever they put in it. It's the only thing the bartender said had almost no flavor."
Jane's brain feels so fuzzy that she has to mumble what Darcy has said to herself before finding the brain power to respond.
"Wait, you spiked my drink?" She tries to say it with some outrage or shock, but the fit of giggles at the end of her sentence doesn't really help sell her anger.
"Dude, you've got to lighten up; right, Loki?"
Jane can just see her companion smile through the haze of the dimmed bar lights and the alcohol addling her brain. "Well, if nothing else, she certainly seems light-headed."
"Where- how did you get the..."
"Bum leg?" Loki says, finishing Jane's sentence because she can't even remember what the rest of it is. "I- I had a spat with my brother, and it got a bit physical."
"He hurt you?"
Loki winces, and Jane notices, mostly because, in her drunkenness, she's moved to within an inch of his face.
"Our family is a bit… rough and tumble."
Jane nods along so vigorously that she nearly falls into Loki's lap, and he smiles as he says, "I believe that it may be time to get you home."
Loki calls the cab, pays the fare, and even helps Jane up the short steps to her apartment's door. As they ascend, she wonders if the ground always seems so far away or if that's simply the height of her shoes. He finds her key for her and pulls the door open, standing aside to let her in. Jane ignores the fact that he wants her to go inside and instead presses up against him, mumbling something that she hopes resembles, "You can't leave without at least kissing me goodnight."
Apparently, though, their ideas on this matter differ because Loki only gives her a peck on the forehead and a push through her doorway before saying, "Goodnight, Jane."
"So, you're saying that Mr. Dashing British Man hasn't so much as texted you since Saturday night?" Darcy asks while they are at work on Monday, the equipment around them buzzing and humming.
"Nope," Jane replies, popping the p and stirring her coffee lazily. "I guess I was a little too clingy for his tastes."
"Oh, c'mon, you were the perfect type of clingy for any guy, particularly when that red dress was clinging to you! What was he, blind?!"
"If only he'd been deaf," Jane mutters, taking a sip and grimacing because she forgot to add sugar.
"Please, he loved that you were so willing to talk to him. So it was alcohol… So what? You were still the charming if somewhat obtrusive Jane Foster, and he was totally fine before you left the bar, so I don't think the kiss thing deterred him. Maybe he just lost your number."
"Right," Jane sighs, "that could definitely be it."
Jane is, if not surprised, rather hurt when she doesn't hear from Loki after the next few weeks. She's not the type to call him herself and, besides, she doesn't even have his number, but she wishes she'd hear something from him. Instead, she throws herself into work and cleaning up around the apartment she shares with Darcy, making her roommate squirm each time she asks, "Do we need this?"
"Okay, Jane, for the fifteen thousandth time: Yes, I need my collection of guitar picks."
"Darcy, you don't even play the guitar."
"But the one has a turtle painted on it! I mean, c'mon, Jane!"
Jane eventually agrees to letting her friend keep most of her strange possessions, but only on the condition that they buy some storage bins to pack everything up neatly. That's how the two find themselves out one Tuesday evening, browsing through different woven and plastic containers and attempting to find one that matches Jane's standards. Jane is squatted on the floor, trying to read the price on a bin in the bottom shelf, when she hears Darcy whisper, "That Loki guy… He had dark hair, right? And like green eyes or something?"
"Yeah, Darcy, why does this ma-." Jane cuts off her sentence when she turns, still bent to the ground, and sees Loki, surrounded by two other men, one who looks about his age with blond hair and a muscular build, the other older, with white hair surrounding one blue eye and one that has a patch over it. Just as Jane starts to avert her gaze, hoping to remain unseen, Darcy begins to wave her arms wildly and yell, "Loki, dude, over here!"
"What are you doing?!" she whispers angrily, standing up from her crouch and trying to look a little more dignified. Darcy keeps waving her hands as she replies, "You like the guy; somebody had to do something."
It only takes a moment for Loki and his companions to walk over to the girls, but Jane can already feel her throat constricting.
"Brother, who are these lovely ladies?" the blond man asks, and Jane can't help the uncharitable thought that floats through her mind; who doesn't call their brother by his name?
"Yes, Loki, I'm interested to see that you've made such… loud friends," the older man says, and Darcy grins at the reference to her.
"This is Darcy Lewis," Loki says, gesturing, "and this-." He pauses and Jane wants to crawl under a rock and die. "This is Jane Foster."
"Very nice to meet you both!" the blond man says enthusiastically, seizing Darcy and Jane's arms in turn to firmly shake them. There's something vaguely familiar about both his and the older man's faces, but Jane only realizes what it is when Darcy blurts it out.
"Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh, you're Thor, the wrestler! I can't believe I didn't recognize you before now!" Darcy squeals then and says, "I have all your posters, and I've probably watched all your fights! That means-." She turns to the older man, a broad smile spreading across her face, "You're Odin!"
The man nods and says, with just a hint of sarcasm, "Always wonderful to meet a fan."
"So," Jane inserts then, bewildered by the conversation going on around her, "Your whole family is made of wrestlers?"
Thor responds, putting his brother into a chokehold and rubbing the top of his head as he says, "We all are, yes, besides my brother, Loki; he is a business man, despite how Father and I have tried to convince him otherwise. But, oh, I must find the fabric department, brother! My costume will not make itself!"
Jane watches Thor and his father round a corner of shelves, the blond discussing whether lycra is an appropriate fabric for his wrestler's mask, and she then returns her attention to Loki, who still stands near her and is staring at her so intently that she wonders whether something is wrong with her face.
"I, um," Darcy mutters. "I think I need some fabric too; be right back!" She darts off and leaves Jane alone with the man who has seen her do and say a number of embarrassing things.
"How are you?" she begins to ask, but Loki ignores her question and says, simply, "I'm sorry, Jane."
"What do you have to be sorry for?" she asks, feeling insincere but having no idea about what else she should say.
"I'm sorry that I didn't call after that night, and I'm sorry that I gave you no explanation for my complete disappearance."
"It's okay?" She says it like a question because she's not entirely sure it is.
"I… don't have many close relationships, largely because I am often busy with work but also because, as you have seen, my family is not exactly what one might call normal or appealing."
"They aren't that bad."
"They are professional wrestlers. Their idea of fun is knocking people to the ground."
"Is that how your leg got hurt a few weeks ago?" she asks, genuinely curious.
"Thor doesn't always comprehend the meaning of 'Do not try to practice on me.'"
"Well, he does at least seem to care for you; your father, too."
She watches Loki nod before he says, "Do you understand why I could not continue to see you? I know that putting you in such a situation would be… off-putting."
Jane shakes her head yes before adding, "Also, you're afraid that people find them more appealing because they're famous, correct? You're jealous."
Loki looks a bit upset by this statement before she smiles and adds, "You have no reason to be, of course."
"You think not?"
"I think not."
"You're sure you wouldn't rather date a man who wears spandex for a living?"
Jane laughs before saying, "Oh, I think Darcy seems to have that base covered. As for me, well, I don't invite just any man to kiss me when I'm too drunk to walk in a straight line."
Loki hesitates, just for a moment, and says, "Jane, I want you to know that I did not kiss you because I did not wish to… act on what may have simply been the result of too much alcohol."
"Well, I'm sober now."
"Yes, I can see that," he says, grinning before he kisses her.
Jane hears a whoop a moment later and knows that Darcy is cheering her on because she hears her say, "Hey, Thor, you interested in maybe following their lead?"