There is no way, no possible way, that it was an accident. Loki has always known Darcy's schedule better than Jane, maybe even better than Darcy herself. He's perfectly aware of when they're going to have hours to themselves to do things that Jane keeps allowing but hates herself for later.

So when Darcy walks in during one of the rare times they're in the living room — they weren't going to stay there! They just hadn't made it to bed yet! — when Loki just happens to still be completely dressed but Jane's lost her top and his hand is in her pants, knuckle deep and working against places Jane didn't even know she had—

—yeah. It was deliberate. How, Jane has no idea. But how does Loki do anything?

Darcy drops her bag of groceries as Jane squeaks, shoving Loki away and fumbling for her shirt.

Loki, however, just sits up, licks his fingers clean, and grins. Yes, I did this on purpose, I'll do it again if I feel like it, and I dare you to stop me.

Jane would hit him, but that would only serve as encouragement. "Get out," she hisses.

He raises an eyebrow. "Are you certain? We could relocate to your room. I'd hate to leave you unsatisfied."

"No. Get. Out."

Loki shrugs elegantly, flashes Darcy a brilliant smile — who stands frozen in place, eyes wide, ignoring the broken eggs oozing all over the linoleum — and grabs his coat as he leaves. He still hasn't fixed the doorbell.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

"That… that was…" Jane struggles for the right words as she stands and hitches her jeans back up. "That was… okay, that was exactly what it looked like."

"No shit." Darcy finally picks up the groceries and makes a face at the sofa. "Ugh. I want that thing cleaned."

"Um. Yeah. I didn't mean… I mean, I didn't think we'd—"

"Don't care. Cleaned."

Okay. That's fair.

Jane waits, fidgeting as Darcy sticks what's left of the food in the fridge and wipes yolk from the floor. After two minutes, she can't take it anymore. "Aren't you going to say anything?" she blurts out.

"Oh, right. Definitely. Who's better?"

Jane blinks. "That's it? That's all you have to say?"

"Pretty much. Was there something else?"

"I— I don't know! I'm a terrible person! I'm having sex with a guy I hate who's also my boyfriend's brother! I'm doing it in the living room of our apartment!"

"Yeah, that last part's pretty gross. The rest of it's been obvious for ages."

"What do you mean, 'obvious'? It hasn't been going on that long!"

"Come on, Jane. You can't tell me you know where this was headed from day one." Darcy pulls a chair over from the table and sits down on it, still eyeing the couch with distaste. "You're going to be a scientist, aren't you supposed to predict stuff?"

That's easily the most crushing thing Darcy could have said. The data was there. Everything is predictable with enough data. The fault was in Jane's calculations. "No. I didn't."

"See, now, if you actually paid attention to EastEnders you would have seen it coming a bazillion miles off. Which one?"

Jane shifts in her seat. Part of her — a very teensy, very unreasonable part — wishes she'd taken Loki up on the offer to go back to the bedroom. She'd been really close. "I don't want to talk about it," she says.

"Oh, please, I just caught you getting a handjob from a vampire and I'm probably going to need therapy or something. I am owed details."

"Fine. I don't know who's better. They're just… different."

"Okay then, who's bigger?"

"I am so not going there."

"You suck. Does Thor know?"

"What? Of course he doesn't know! I'm cheating on him with his brother!"

Darcy, unconcerned as ever by Jane's stress, or anyone's stress, just shrugs. "Hey, everyone's got their thing. Maybe he wouldn't mind."

"He'd mind. Trust me, he'd mind."

"Oh. So… who are you going to break it off with? Because that—" Darcy gestures vaguely at the couch "—is probably not a long-term business plan."

"I know." She knows. God, how she knows. But she doesn't exactly know how to say how Thor's willing to give up everything for her and she's not sure Loki would let her break it off and both of them just have ways of getting what they want because that's just how it's always worked for them. "I don't know how it happened. I just want to pass this class."

"Well, this definitely a better way to do it than getting arrested."

"You're no help."

"I'm not your Jiminy Cricket. If you're so worried, we'll be going home soon."

"They both want me to stay."

"Oh. Then you're completely screwed."

Yeah. She knows that too.

A few hours later she gets a message from that damned blocked number again. Shall we finish what we started?

The texts that follow are so obscenely filthy that Jane has to go hide in her bedroom and almost falls from the mattress getting herself off.

Darcy's right. She could tell Thor.

Just… get it out of the way. Get it over with. Loki's going to tell him anyway, she knows it — and it won't have anything to do with what she has or hasn't done. It's not going to be some kind of blackmail or punishment. No, sooner or later Loki will invite his brother to a pub, buy him a beer, ask with a smile how many times he, Thor, has succeeded in bringing Jane off in a single session, because he, Loki, has managed four and is developing several possible methods by which to reach five. And he'll do this because he'll suddenly, randomly, see some benefit in doing so. Even if the benefit doesn't make sense to anyone but him.

And there's absolutely nothing she'll be able to do to prevent it.

Unless she confesses first.

Yes. The more she thinks about it, the more sense it makes.

She thinks about it when Thor takes her to dinner at another one of those restaurants where there's only three things on the menu. She has the sea bass.

She thinks about it on the ride back to his apartment.

She thinks about it as he's got her naked in bed, spooned against his front— an unusual choice for him — and leaving a definite hickey on the back of her neck.

The last one is a really, really bad time to be thinking about it.

But, well… Darcy had a point. Maybe he wouldn't mind. Everyone's got their thing, right?

Jane almost laughs through her orgasm. That's how ridiculous that idea is.

He won't share. She doesn't really want to be shared, even though that doesn't make much logical sense since she's sharing herself at the moment. So if she wants to confess to her sins and have any hope of salvaging the situation, she definitely can't be doing the whole sinning things anymore. Saying I'm sleeping with your brother, who is incredibly unstable if not actually insane, and I'm not even sure why I'm doing it, it just keeps happening, and I should probably stop but there's a good chance he'll turn up tonight after I go home because he'll know I've been here and he gets off on that for reasons that I don't understand but are definitely sick isn't much of an apology.

What a mess she's made of everything.

Thor is distracted afterwards, looking at the ceiling and petting her back with automatic, mechanical strokes. Jane knows she should ask what's wrong. It's that good girlfriend protocol thing again. Not that she's being a good girlfriend right now, but still—

—except she knows what's wrong.

She could just tell him to change his mind, choose his brother instead of her, it's okay, she understands. He'd be hurt, but… maybe not as hurt as he might think.

But that would mean sticking him with Loki, who'd forever be close enough — and above suspicion — to keep screwing around with Thor's life in any way that evil brain of his can think of.

Whereas if she tells Thor the truth, he'd know to never, ever, ever trust Loki again.

That would be best for him.

It'd probably be best for her.

It might even be best for Loki.

But then Thor strokes her hair, strokes her side, kisses her forehead. "I love you, Jane," he murmurs. "Du er fortsatt vakrere enn stjernene."

And… yeah.

Jane never, ever wanted this.

Loki's not waiting for her when she gets back, but it's only forty-five minutes before he shows up like a stray cat expecting a meal. "You can't be here," she snaps as he slips into her bedroom. "Darcy's home."

"Oh, is that a problem? I'd thought the situation had been made fairly clear to her."

"That was your fault."

"It was not. I told you, Jane, I prefer only to be blamed for the things I've actually done."

"I don't believe you."

He smirks at her, already removing his clothes. "That's because you're not a fool."

Which has to be the biggest lie he's told her yet.