Summary:

Someone wakes up.

I wake up on my couch. There's an empty bottle of wine on the floor next to me and some dodgy pizza congealing on a plate on my coffee table. I don't precisely remember when it's from, last week sometime, hopefully not older. Mogs, that little bastard, is nibbling cheese off that pizza delicately. He's lactose intolerant, so I'll be paying for that later. I swat at him, but he gives me that supercilious stare of his, and I apologize as I pick up the plate.

Groaning, I lever myself upright and stagger to my small kitchen area in search of water. As I gulp glass after glass of sweet, refreshing, life-giving h2o I promise myself that I will never mix liquor and wine again. Of course I've made that solemn vow a few times before, but hope springs eternal, and all that.

After the third or fourth glass, I am ready for a shower and bed. I'm not planning on going anywhere today or talking to anyone but my cat overlord. That plan goes straight out the window after I check my phone once I've done the bathroom thing. There's 5 missed calls from Sif, 4 from your mom another 2 from Heimdall and 3 texts from your brother, who has been relabeled Loki - The Asshole in my contacts. Which is when I remember that I resorted to violence after last night's little pregnancy debacle.

Needless to say, it will not be fun explaining the situation to too-nosy-for-their-own-good coworkers. I'm going to be the subject of bump-watch for the next few months, and I am not looking forward to it.

I listen to my messages first, unwilling to read the texts for right now. The first one is from your little sister apologizing for the misunderstanding, and promising that everything has been explained to the rest of your family already. The next few are just asking for me to call back, and then... your mom tells me that you are awake.

Oh, Jesus.

Your mom meets me in the lobby, looking radiantly happy and troubled at the same time. She hugs me until my spine cracks, and leaves a hand resting on my arm as she solemnly tells me that you are fine, mostly. Just a small complication due to the bump on your head, more common than she'd realized. There's a buzzing in my mind, a fuzziness to the edges of my sight that can't be good, as she keeps talking around whatever it is she's trying to say.

They're all there, crowded around your bed - a wall of family that blocks you from view. I can tell without hearing the words, just by the tenor of his voice, how happy Odin is. Sif turns her head and her smile is blinding as she waves for me to come over and hip-checks Loki to make a little space for me next to your bed.

It's all about to come crashing down around me, and I am not ready for it just yet, so linger for a few more seconds in the doorway. Frigga is already at your side, holding Odin's hand tightly as she looks at you. I'm beyond uncomfortable, but Heimdall looks at me gives me a smile and curiously excited thumbs up. Then, he's at my side, whispering, "Just go with it, I got this," as he tugs me to your bedside.

"Hi," I say, because I am lame and not particularly imaginative when it comes to greeting you, my extraordinarily handsome fake fiancee. I thought I'd gotten sort of used to your face, gotten an immunity by virtue of so much exposure to your square jaw, high cheek bones and straight nose, but I haven't. God, your eyes are blue.

You're more gorgeous now then you ever were outside my booth any of those mornings you greeted me with that smile. Being this close to you while you're awake makes me feel like I've lost at least half of my IQ points. There's practically little cartoon birds and hearts floating around my head.

You look confused, as well you should, "And you are?"

Frigga looks concerned, "I had hoped seeing you would have jogged his memories, but... Are you sure you don't remember Darcy, Sugar Lumps?"

You look annoyed, "I told you I feel fine, and I know I've asked you to stop calling me that. I remember asking you a thousand times."

"You'll always be my little Sugar Lumps, my little boy, just like your brother is always going to be my little Sugar Pie, my other little boy, and your sister is my Sugar Baby, my baby girl. You're all my sweet children and you always will be. You'll just have to get used to it. Actually, can't really believe you all aren't already, my sweet Sugar Loves."

"Mo-om!" You three siblings exclaim, exasperated, at the same time, and I catch Odin ducking his head, hiding his huge grin.

She shrugs, and kisses your forehead, "It's the way it is. Now, this is Darcy. She's recently consented to be your fiancee. She's a lovely young lady, and you love her. The doctor explained that you have had some swelling in your brain, and you have a mild, completely normal case of amnesia,-"

"Mother! I was sitting right here when he explained all of that. I'm not a moron! And I'm telling you I don't know that person!" You point at me, and I feel my painted on smile start to slip, and tense up, readying myself to dart away. Oh god, I'm that person.

Heimdall looks at me sternly, and grabs hold of my wrist, stopping my escape before I can even start moving.

"Guys, guys, let's not start arguing. Why don't you all go get coffee while I have a little chat with my god-son."

Once we exit the elevator in the lobby and everyone else starts heading in the direction of the cafeteria, I excuse myself to the ladies room. I feel like my hangover might actually be fatal, and maybe that wouldn't be terrible. Throwing up doesn't make me feel better, but it does make my breath reek, so I'll have to shell out money for some gum before I meet back up with your family.

Sighing, I splash water on my face and exit my temporary sanctuary.

Because the universe hates liars, your brother is waiting for me.

"I should probably be honest about the fact that I played Texas hold 'em with my brother with you as the prize."

Sputtering, I wonder how it's possible to be offended by a single sentence that doesn't include the words "Show", "Me", "Your" or "Tits".

"Also, he was still in a coma. I still lost. I know. I can't believe I went there. You're not a thing, you're a person. A perfectly capable person. I mean, I don't think of you like that, I just was... Being stupid."

"You barely tolerate me," I respond, feeling like someone has pulled the proverbial rug out from under me. I'll be honest, I am not sure if that's a question or a statement.

"As an only child, I know you don't understand, but in some cases siblings can't help but want what the other has. And, I'll admit, I am genuinely curious about you. And...

I like you. And I'm sorry. There, I said it. I like you and I apologize." He's looking somewhere over my shoulder, cheeks tinged pink. "I've been unfair to you, and I'll make sure that it won't happen again."

This is where normal people would respond. I, on the other hand, feel like my head is pounding so hard, people could surely see it expand and contract. So all I can get out is, "Huh."

Thanks for reading all!