Summary:

So, choices and changes.

"I don't know, I haven't opened them yet," and it occurs to me that maybe it's not going to be his thing that breaks us up. It's probably going to be my thing.

He lifts a dark eyebrow, rolls up the envelopes and hands them to me. We have an apartment full of people, most of whom are Loki's friends. We also have Thor's emission drying on our sheets. Ew. I look the other way.

"Well, are you going to?" he gestures to the envelopes in my hand.

I look down.

I can't.

Not now.

I want to have a good time. I'm having, or rather, we're having a party. I put the envelopes on the dresser and get on my tip-toes. He's stiff and reluctant as I try pulling him down to my level with a hand around the back of his neck. I tug harder and when he finally leans down, he totally doesn't oblige with any tongue.

I slap his chest, "Pull it together, man. We have a party to, uh, continue throwing, people to mortify for the first time of the rest our lives, friends to entertain, alcohol to drink responsibly. We'll deal with that later."

Grabbing his hand, I pull him out of our bedroom and into the living room. Thriller is on for the second time, so someone has messed with the playlist I spent way too much time on, while my laptop was unattended. Savage monsters.

He lets go of my hand and wanders over to his two oldest friends. I've heard about them, obviously, seen them on both Facebook and in Loki's old pictures, but I haven't met them before tonight. They live in other states, and they came into town for the weekend. I figured I had slam-dunked this whole first impression thing, but now, as the three of them huddle around the makeshift bar we set up earlier today, I have a less confident feeling.

I can deal with Thor thinking I'm a freaking Looney toon. He owes me, for a number of things, apparently. Loki's boys? All they know about me is whatever he's told them or what they might've heard through the grapevine. The thought of the type of gossip they may have been privy to makes me literally shudder, so I try not to consider it.

Shit. They're looking at me, all three of them, and their expressions are eerily similar in their curious appraisal of me.

Where is Thor, anyway? He'd be a good human shield while I get the music back on track.

It's four-thirty in the morning and almost everyone has left. Even Jane and Thor, who febreezed the shit out of my mattress before putting on the fresh clean sheets, departed sheepishly at least an hour ago. Actually, to be specific, only Loki's friends are left, and I think they're staying. Or maybe it's that, for them, the party is just getting started. They've lit something, and I sniff the air as I put away the last few food items that survived the board. Possibly a cigar, or...

I peek around the corner and, sure enough, they're passing around a blunt while Loki deals cards.

I want to go back into the bedroom and open the letters, but not without Loki. Instead, I ask if they need anything before I head off to bed... "Water, Funyans?"

The guys start quoting Half-Baked while Loki shakes his head and gestures for me to come over. How he ended up with two friends who are at least as geeky about movies as I am, when he professes no great interest in that medium, save for tedious sub-titled indie films, is beyond me. He slips his arm around my waist, pulling me closer. He looks up at me when we're inches apart. "I love you," he says, so quietly I can't hear it over the other two coughing and giggling maniacally while watching YouTube videos of "I'm Sampson" and the other music from Half-Baked.

It still makes me feel my blood rush through my veins and my chest tighten when he says that. I'm not used to it, even after weeks of hearing it, and I wonder if I ever will.

I bend over and kiss his cheek, and whisper it back to him before I stand up to go to bed.

There's something rattling in the kitchen and it wakes me up. Glancing over, I see Loki sprawled out across the mattress, face down on the pillow. He's snoring a little bit.

My alarm clock says it's 11:03am, so it's not inconceivable that someone might be moving around out there. Bruce or Tony? Quiet and witty or semi-dickish and arrogant, which will it be? One or both? I decide to delay finding out the answer until after a shower.

The best thing about this apartment is definitely the private bathroom that only connects to this bedroom. When I'm done with the usual morning routine, except for the facial scrub I used after sleeping in my makeup last night, Loki is already out of bed. He's raised the blinds and weak sunlight streams in. The envelopes are exactly where I left them last night. I can hear voices filtering through the closed door, but not enough to distinguish what exactly they are saying, beyond that whatever it is makes them laugh.

I put on sweat pants, a bra and a t-shirt I pull out at random from my stack in the closet. I take a deep breath and pointedly ignore the envelopes as I walk out of the bedroom.

As soon as I am out of the bedroom, the smell of breakfast almost overwhelms me. I'm practically salivating when I take the few steps to the kitchen. With visions of coffee and smoked and cured meat dancing in my head, I grab a mug out of the cupboard and pick up the coffee pot. My disappointment knows practically no bounds when a single, tiny splash comes out instead of a stream.

I put on another pot, an involved process because Loki has relegated my wonderful coffee maker to storage, in favor of his annoying stovetop percolator. Sometimes he's such a fucking hipster, I'm surprised he hasn't grown an overly complicated mustache or started wearing suspenders.

Setting the timer on the stove for 7 1/2 minutes rankles a little. I'm even more so when I join the men folk in the dining area and find a single, solitary piece of bacon remaining. Sure, there's eggs, but given the choice between the two, I'd choose bacon every time. The anger I feel is out of proportion to the, most likely, unintentional slights, so I wave and smile and make an allusion to needing tampons. I show myself out after changing into jeans and grabbing the envelopes and a jacket.

I end up at Jane's. I don't mean to wake her up, but I do. I also didn't mean to wake Thor up, but he's in a pretty mood despite that. In apology, I make coffee as they shower and put on clothes - and set Jane's home page on her Chrome app to a page on the Planned Parenthood site detailing the benefits of safe sex. I'd do the same for Thor, but he's actually got a password I can't guess, so I leave it be, before I lock it completely.

I don't comment as he gathers his stuff, the remnants of his costume - which appears to have been shredded at some point after they left, and sticks it in a bag. Somethings are best left uncontemplated. He sits down at Jane's kitchen table, accepts a cup of coffee gratefully, adds a lot of sugar, takes a sip and sighs like it's the best thing ever.

As content as he seems, I don't know how to broach this, but Jane's still in the bathroom, so now's my shot, "Look, Jane is, well, she's more than my friend and definitely more than my boss, so just... don't be a dick. She deserves better. Plus, it'd be really awkward to explain to your Nan that I had to kill you, so you know, there's that." I give him a smile I hope isn't excessively toothy or threatening over the rim of my cup as Jane wanders in.

She accepts the cup with much less equanimity than Thor, which I expected. Jane's not really a morning person. It takes a few sips before she realizes that I am not just some coffee dispensing fairy, but Jane finally blinks at me as if seeing me for the first time, and asks me why the fuck I'm there.

When Jane snorts at my explanation, it's not a surprise. Thor kissing Jane's temple as he gets up to leave is. He says, "Nah, dude," when I ask if he doesn't want to stay, "This is none of my business." I try not to look as Jane and Thor nuzzle and kiss their way through their good byes.

"So, you and Coma-guy, huh?" slips out before I can stop it.

She shrugs, but I can tell it's a front just by her smug smile, "You know I like 'em big."

I goggle at her, trying to wrap my mind around what just came out of her mouth, when she gasps and presses a hand to her chest in horror, "Height wise, Darcy. Jeez, what you must think of me to have gone straight to the gutter with that comment. I know that look." She winks at me and smiles slyly before sipping her coffee delicately. "So, why are you here, instead of enjoying your boyfriend?"

I pull the envelopes out of my jacket and put them on the table between us. Jane picks them up and whistles when she sees the sender, "Oh." Her lips twist, "Oh, honey, this could be big."

"I know, Jane. Joe Jr dropped them off last night, and I meant to open them with Loki, but that plan was put on hold after, uh, finding you and Thor fornicating on my bed." Jane blushes a little, and I find myself feeling better. "And this morning, he made breakfast for his friends, who'd spent the night, by the way. They'd only left me a pitiful slice of bacon and like a sip of coffee. I got so mad about it, Jane, and I don't really know why, so I came here. I tried to open them alone, but I can't. I can't make myself. Can you do it for me, please?"

She looks dubious, but sticks her finger under the flap and rips the oldest one open first. There's a stack of glossy brochure type things clipped to a couple of sheets of paper. Jane sits absolutely still while she glances over the pages, and looks at me with a completely blank expression when she finally puts the stack down.

"So?" I ask, hesitantly.

"You're invited to attend classes at this place for the next two semesters. Jesus, Darcy, you're eligible for a scholarship in Italy. Oh my god." She pauses, and looks both proud and excited for me, but also anxious, "What are you going to do?"

Notes:

Oh my god, guys! It's almost over...

I am always nervous at this point of the story, because, for me anyway, endings are harder than anything else. (Fingers and toes are firmly crossed that I don't cock up the next chapter.)

As always, thanks for reading and hope you enjoy.