Anon Prompt: If you're still taking prompts could I request Loki/Jane unplanned pregnancy?
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She smelled of vanilla, he recalled with perfect clarity. Like vanilla and cinnamon, sweet but not cloying. It had lingered on his pillow the next morning, long after she had disappeared, and he could still nearly smell it if he tried hard enough. (Which he did embarrassingly often, if he were being honest.)
He could still feel her silky skin beneath his hands, and taste the bourbon on her lips even after all these months later. She haunted him, damn her, and no matter how hard he tried, she wouldn't leave him. The sound of his name coming from that soft mouth of hers drifted in his dreams, and whenever he tried to sleep with another woman, all he could see were those big doe eyes looking up at him with lust and fire.
It was at a hotel bar that they met, in Oslo, Norway. He was there for business, but she never told him why she was there. She had been irritatingly tight-lipped about herself, but at the time he didn't care. She was beautiful and witty, and when he leaned in for a kiss, she met him halfway, her soft lips pressing against his with no fear at all. She was slightly drunk, but he didn't mind. When they stumbled into his suite, she was almost more enthusiastic than he was.
He remembered how she nearly ripped his shirt off, and how her small, soft hands had undone his belt and slid under his trousers. And then he remembered the laugh that erupted from her when he hoisted her up like she weighed nothing and pressed her against the wall, her small, white teeth gleaming in the semi-darkness in a grin. He had never had a woman laugh in the middle of sex, but when she laughed, it was a joyous thing, like she was happy to be there against the wall with his hands cupping her rear, and that was intoxicating.
He never would have suspected it, but that had been one of the best nights of his life. Every second was ingrained in his memory, and for the first time since his youth, he woke up looking forward to seeing her tussled hair and sleepy face on the pillow next to his. Maybe we should go another round, he had thought as he reached over to pull her closer.
But his hand met nothing but rapidly cooling sheets, and she was gone.
It bothered him briefly for a time, but then he quickly got over it. He had business to do, and places to be, he couldn't spare too much time thinking about a one night stand that he probably would have kicked out of bed anyway.
Two weeks later, he began thinking of her again. It was small things at first, just fleeting memories of that night that would occur to him throughout the day. He began to idly wonder if he could find her again. And then he began to not so idly search for her.
He had so little to go on that it was a nearly impossible task, and the more trouble he ran into, the more determined he became. The more he thought of her, the more he craved her. Months passed, and still nothing.
And then- her name. Jane Foster. A breakthrough he had almost given up on, and the one that gave him everything he needed.
With her name, he found everything.
A man with his money and stature could have access to anything he wanted, so finding her was almost effortless when he had her name and description. He learned all he could, ravenous after months of thinking of those few hours they spent together, and even found her current address.
Puente Antiguo, New Mexico. The middle of nowhere. How odd that he would meet her in Norway and then find her again in the middle of the desert.
But that's where he found himself, standing on the doorstep of her apartment, ten months and three days since that night in Oslo. He brought no roses or gifts. Nothing besides himself. He didn't think she would really appreciate roses, anyway. She was a scientist, a woman of learning. He was sure she would appreciate a telescope, or a trip to see the Aurora Borealis far more than any trinket.
Dressed in a fine black suit and emerald tie, Loki sucked in a deep breath, calming the urge he had to just burst through the door to see her again. Instead, he lifted one pale hand and knocked twice on her door.
He heard a muffled curse from within, a small clatter, and then all was quiet for a few seconds. He almost thought she wasn't going to answer it, but then the door was swinging open, revealing the tiny woman who had occupied his thoughts for so long.
Her hair was up in a messy bun, a large purple sweatshirt hung on her frame, and she was barefoot. For a moment, he forgot to breathe.
There she was, standing in the flesh, her expression stunned. She looked tired, and a white rag was slung over one shoulder, but he thought she looked just as beautiful as she did that night in Oslo. They were both too shocked to speak for a long moment, but then her lips parted, a small gasp leaving her, breaking the silence.
"Jane," he greeted, inclining his head, trying to regain some semblance of his composure.
Her mouth worked for a moment, trying to find words to say, before she suddenly seemed to snap back to herself. Her arm jerked back and nearly closed the door on herself, blocking his view of the inside of her apartment. "I- wha- how did you find me?" she asked, her expression nearly panicked.
Loki licked his lips, stepping slightly closer to her when he caught the scent of her sweetness. "I've been looking for you since Oslo," he told her, voice low.
Jane shifted, swallowing, and looked up at him with wide eyes. "Did you- did you get my messages?"
"…Messages?" he asked slowly, taken aback. His eyes narrowed as he watched her blanch, her sharp brows furrowing.
Her eyes dropped from his to his chest, moving around as if she was searching for something. Life seemed to return to her in increments, though her expression was still colored with confusion and shock. "I've been trying to get a hold of you for months," she told him, "I- I tried your office. I tried sending letters. I even tried calling the hotel in Norway to get your phone number."
Loki blinked, stunned. She had tried to find him? Well, he had no idea, obviously. If he had, he would have been on the first plane to New Mexico months ago.
"I have been trying to find you as well," he told her, heart beating faster as he lifted a hand up, slipping it behind her neck to cup the back of her head. She looked for me. She felt the same way. She wanted him too. Loki had never felt such satisfaction. "I have searched endlessly for you, Jane," he murmured, bending to press his lips against hers.
Her hand shot up to stop him, pressing against his chest gently. "No, I- I want to, but if you haven't gotten my messages, I need to talk to you. If you still want to- I mean, if you still feel that way, then sure, but…"
She cleared her throat as he slowly pulled away, though his hand remained tangled in the loose hair that fell from her bun. It felt just as silky as he remembered. "Then we shall talk," he told her, his breath puffing softly against her hair as he tried to control himself.
Jane nodded jerkily and stepped back from him, her eyes down as she opened the door wide enough to let him through. He had a hard time tearing his eyes away from her now that he found her (now that he knew she had tried to find him) but he finally managed to glance around her tiny apartment - the size of which was of no surprise to him, considering the tiny size of her research grant.
It was bit messy, with equipment and miscellaneous papers, but it smelled like her, like vanilla and cinnamon and her. "Can I get you some coffee or something?" she asked, breathless, as she walked past him into the adjoining kitchen. Jane smoothed her hand over her hair nervously, trying to rid herself of flyaway hairs, probably, and began to prepare the coffee before he could respond. He followed her slowly, his long legs silently taking him across the floor and into the kitchen.
"What did you need to speak of, Jane?" he asked, curiosity burning, as he braced himself against the countertop across from her. That was the most pertinent question, but then he also wished to find out who she had spoken to within his company when she tried to reach him. When he found that out, he had a few phone calls to make.
Her hands stilled, one hovering over the button on the machine and the other dipping a spoon in the coffee grounds. Her throat worked as she swallowed, which he watched with rapt attention. "Um," she began slowly, her hands moving again, "I… I wanted to start out by saying I'm sorry for skipping out on you that morning. I mean, I don't know if you wanted me to stay, but I probably should have left a note or something. That was pretty rude."
"You should have," he interjected, tone chiding. "I did want you to stay."
She sucked in a breath, still not looking at him, and pressed the button on the coffee machine. "I wanted to stay, but I knew who you were and… I don't know. I just thought you would kick me out anyway. And I had a meeting in the morning, so…"
"So you left," he finished for her, voice cool. It still stung.
"Yeah," she admitted lamely, her doe eyes glancing at him briefly before she turned and leaned against the counter a bit aways from him. Her head bowed slightly as the coffee machine began to hiss and spit behind her. "I suck at this, wow." Jane ran a hand over her face, her frame tense. "I've thought about what I would say about a thousand times, but now apparently I've forgotten it all. So much for genius, huh?"
Loki raised an eyebrow as he watched her. She was a genius. He had seen that in her file. "Do I really make you so nervous, Jane?" he asked her, amused, as he watched her fidget. "You did not seem so inhibited in Oslo, Doctor."
A flush rose in her cheeks, a lovely pink, and it only made him smile more widely. Jane lifted her head to send him an embarrassed look, though a wry smile twisted the corners of her lips. "One too many drinks, I think, Mister Odinson."
He shrugged, grinning. "Perhaps. But you weren't so drunk as to not be an active participant."
Her blush intensified, but she laughed all the same. The laugh he had heard when they slept together - the one that had haunted his dreams. He could barely stand it. "No, I definitely wasn't," she replied, a note of wistfulness in her tone.
A comfortable silence settled over them, with Jane occasionally daring to look up at him as he stared at her with intensity. He was hungry to look at her, and although he knew he should perhaps tone it down a bit, he found it quite impossible to do so.
Finally gathering herself, Jane straightened and looked him in the eyes, her shoulders squaring as she found her confidence. "Look," she began, "I'm just going to say it, because there's really no other way to do it." Taking a deep breath, she said, "When I came home from Oslo I foun-"
A high, wailing cry suddenly filled the small apartment. Loki tensed, his wide green eyes swinging in the direction of the half-open bedroom door. There was no mistaking that noise.
"You have a child?" he asked, incredulous, as Jane made an exhausted expression and pushed away from the countertop. Her amber eyes swung from the door to him, and those expressive features told him exactly what she hadn't gotten the chance to. His expression fell with his disbelief, with his outright incredulousness, and Jane hurried past him, her face tight. She disappeared into the one bedroom the apartment boasted, his eyes never leaving her, and within a few seconds the wailing stopped.
"Hey, hey," she was whispering when she finally emerged, a tiny creature bundled in a blanket and a cream onesie in her arms, "it's okay, sweet-pea. I was only gone for a couple minutes, no need to scream." Jane glanced up at him as she slowly approached, her expression wary. He stood stock-still there in her kitchen, watching the baby and the mother as if they were an approaching storm.
"I found out I was pregnant about a month after Oslo," she told him, her voice hushed, as she laid the pink-skinned baby on her chest, one hand rubbing her back with the utmost care. "I tried to get a hold of you for months, but I think the people I talked to thought I was crazy, or that I was trying to scam you." She shook her head slightly as the baby gurgled into the fabric of the cloth on her shoulder. "I tried everything I could think of, but nothing worked. So a few months back I stopped trying."
Jane looked up at him warily, swallowing, and then looked back down at her child. "She was born two and a half weeks ago."
It felt like his voice had been stolen from him, a feeling he had very rarely experienced, but when he finally found his tongue again, he said, "You're sure its mine?" His tone was sharper than he intended, and he didn't like seeing the wince he caused on her face, but it was something he had to ask.
"I'm sure," she firmly told him as she adjusted the blanket around the baby. Sighing tiredly, she looked up at him with understanding. "I figured you might say something like that. I mean, how many women would kill to have your kid just for the child support? But I swear, I hadn't had sex with anyone in nearly a year when we met, and I haven't slept with anyone since. You can have her DNA checked, if you want, but it's the truth either way."
Loki stared at the little thing on her chest and shoulder. It was kind of ugly, if he were being honest. All red and squishy, with a bunch of fuzzy black hair on the top of her little round head. Her eyes were closed and puffy, and she was moving her lips a lot, making noises and spit bubbles that dribbled onto Jane's collar.
"I'm not going to go after you for anything," she was explaining quietly, her tone almost resigned. "And you don't have to hang around if you don't want to. I understand that you didn't want this and that you don't know me, so you probably won't. I just- I just didn't feel right about you not at least knowing, so that was why I tried to-"
"What's her name?" he asked, low voice as quiet as a whisper.
Jane paused her speech, her hand drifting up to cup the back of the baby's fuzzy head. "Her name is Beatrice," she told him, a quiet sort of pride in her voice.
Beatrice. Loki tested the name in his mind, rolling it around, comparing it to the little thing in Jane's arms.
"Why did you name her Beatrice?" Loki stepped foreword, peering at both mother and child calculatingly.
The woman blushed, licked her lips, and looked down at her bare toes. "I… I was kind of drunk when we were talking in the bar that night, but I remember most of it. When I was in the hospital, I still hadn't come up with a name, so I tried thinking about you, and about what we talked about. I remembered that you liked Shakespeare, and how we spoke about our favorite characters, and then how you said one of your favorite female characters was Beatrice." She shrugged, as if to dismiss the sweet story, and nudged her cheek against her baby's hair.
"I thought it was a good fit. Beatrice is strong and speaks her mind."
He was quiet for a time, taking everything in. He was quite possibly a father. That thought was more overwhelming than Jane could possibly imagine. Or maybe she could. She had gone through her entire pregnancy alone, with little money, and it sounded like she intended on raising the child on her own too.
That… was not what he wanted. At least, he didn't think so.
He had spent nearly a year searching for Jane. Maybe it was for a reason. Loki breathed deeply, his mind working a mile a minute. It was too much to take in all at once, but he was certain of one thing: he had lost Jane once, and he wasn't about to let that happen again.
"I like the name," he admitted quietly, looking into Jane's eyes with the utmost focus. He paused for a moment, thinking through his words carefully, "…and I think my mother will too."
He wasn't going to lose Jane again, and if that meant being a father, then so be it. His mother really would be thrilled to be a grandmother, and he thought it might not be terrible to be father.
At least, he couldn't screw up any worse than Odin did.
