"Hi, Jane. Sorry I missed you. I have a few more script changes I wanted to run by you when you have the chance. Also, the studio is asking us to combine a few characters again. Anyway, call me when you get this."

Jane saved the message to her phone, wishing she could delete it. She was at her favorite cafe enjoying a mug of hazelnut coffee and a Tana French book she'd been waiting ages to read. The last thing she needed was more Hollywood bullshit spoiling her good mood. Whatever Mr. Branson had to say could wait. She put her phone in her pocket and threw herself back into the world of the Dublin Murder Squad.

Except she couldn't return to Dublin because there was a smoky odor in the air like someone had just burned their coffee. And because the people on line were all the same breed of loud and obnoxious as they shouted their orders over each other. And because she couldn't stop thinking about Loki Odinson.

This was completely ridiculous. It had already been three days since their luncheon. Since then, they'd barely spent two seconds together. The university scenes were taking longer than expected. Mr. Branson argued endlessly with the producers about whether or not to keep certain lines of dialogue or if they should go ahead and use the Varsity Blues' auditorium for the big award ceremony that would end the film. Meanwhile, Jane had two more talk shows and a podcast to do before next Monday and dinner with the director of NASA on Wednesday. She'd already had to cancel on him once due to last-minute wardrobe fittings for her Jimmy Kimmel appearance. There was no way she could screw this up by being hung up on some big-headed actor all night long.

Okay, maybe he wasn't quite as bad as she thought he was, but how much was that really saying? A jerk with a sad backstory is still a jerk. Just because he found out the hard way that his parents lied to him didn't give him the right to look down on her.

But was he?

The more she went over their past interactions, the less certain she was. Her initial impression of him from the first time they met was that he was an elitist prick. Why else would he pick her choice of wine to comment on over anything else? He could've asked about her research or if she was enjoying herself. Hell, they could've talked about the weather if he was polite about it. But no, he had to go implying she was classless all because she preferred cheaper wine.

Unless, of course, he was just nervous. Maybe he understood this Donald Blake character more thoroughly than she realized. Was it possible he only said what he did because he couldn't think of anything else?

Or had she been reading too much Pride and Prejudice and was now projecting?

Then there was everything else. No matter how she sliced it, he'd never been directly insulting or condescending to her. The worst he'd done so far was that 'caring lover' bit in Mr. Branson's office, and while he was clearly trying to get a rise out of her, it wasn't like he'd tried it again after the first time. Sure he schmoozed for the camera, but so did everyone else in this industry. The impromptu acting session which had made her want to punch things for two days straight wouldn't have happened if she hadn't gone in on the script. She could've easily said no to lunch.

In every conversation they had, Loki always gave as good as he got, and he always got something. Jane just couldn't resist butting heads with him every time they were in a room together, but whose fault was that? Hers? His? Both of theirs?

And now ten minutes were gone and her coffee was cold. Again.

"Oh my God," Jane rubbed her temples. "Stop doing this to yourself."

On the overhead TV, the random sportsball game had gone to commercial break. In between diaper commercials and a trailer for the next Liam Neeson thriller was a talk show promo.

'Tonight on Christine, we'll have an exclusive first look at the set of Bridgemaker: The Jane Foster, and a chat with director Kevin Branson and lead actress Bethany Shortman. Tune in tonight at 8:30, 7:30 central.'

Jane was up so fast, she nearly knocked her chair over. Dropping a few bucks on the table, she left the cafe as slowly and casually as her harried mental state would allow. Outside, her phone rang again. It was Mr. Branson. Jane considered taking it but decided against it. She wasn't ready to deal with this yet.

A 'new voicemail' alert chimed and Jane ignored it. She checked her messages, but Darcy had been dark since yesterday evening. It would've been nice to blame Loki for her assistant's torrid love affair with his bodyguard, but the fact was, she'd been eyeing him for days. It was bound to happen with or without Loki's help. Not that she couldn't still grumble about it on the way back to her hotel.

There wasn't much to do today other than prepare for the days to come. All attempts at giving herself a break came to nothing, so it was funny that somehow, she'd managed not to fill that one little box on her calendar. Sitting on her bed, staring out the window at a grey skyline, she thought about taking a nap or watching some TV. Maybe she'd catch up on one of her shows or try to read some more. She was starting to think a gritty mystery wasn't what she needed right now. Maybe something lighter, cheerier. Like a romance novel.

Searching her bookshelf and her tablet kept her busy for a time until she realized she'd already read everything she had. The books she might want to re-read had all been re-read. According to Google, the nearest library was ten miles away and the nearest bookstore twenty miles.

Someone up there really hated her.

Surrendering to the inevitable, Jane went into her contacts and called Loki.

He picked up on the second ring.

"Jane! To what do I owe this pleasure?"

She resisted the urge to grimace. He wasn't patronizing, this was just how he talked. "Uh… good morning. Afternoon. I was just… wanting to see how you're doing?"

"Just fine since yesterday, thank you."

Yesterday, they filmed the big bar scene where college-aged Jane revealed her theory and intentions to a group of skeptical classmates. Like a good satellite love interest, Donald Blake was the only one who didn't question a single thing she said. It was another piece of the script she'd been ready to fight over. What self-respecting scientist wouldn't go over a colleague's theory with a fine-toothed comb? Didn't this guy want her to succeed?

"Right, you were good," Jane mumbled. "Really good."

"Except for the part where Mr. Blake is flatter than a pancake, correct?"

Jane laughed. By the time she realized she was doing it, she didn't want to stop. "Something like that."

"I will have a word with Mr. Branson about it."

"I'd appreciate that." Jane took a deep breath. "Anyway, I really called because I was wondering…"

"Yes?" he asked when she hesitated for too long.

Another breath. Why was this so hard? It was hard for him, too. It had to be. "I was thinking maybe we should spend some more time together."

Total silence on the other end. Jane couldn't even hear background noise. Either he was somewhere very quiet or he'd hung up on her. She checked the screen, but the call was still connected. That meant he was thinking. Or maybe he was trying not to laugh.

"You want to spend time with me," he said.

Jane closed her eyes. Did he have to say it like that? "Yeah."

"Why?"

"Why not?" She said before shaking her head. "What I mean is, since you don't have a lot to work with other than the script, maybe it would help if we had another lunch together. Or meet up for coffee. Just so we can talk. You can ask me more questions if you like."

"Very well. I am free today."

Jane blinked. He agreed that fast? "Uh…"

"Are you not?"

"No, I am. I can meet you today." Jane cleared her throat and sat up straighter, wondering where she'd left her shoes. "I might need a little time to get ready."

"I can meet you at the Sunrise Cafe at one. Does that suit you?"

One o'clock was thirty minutes away. Somehow, in that time, she had to get herself together enough to not look like a disgusting slob next to an A-list actor. This had been so much easier three days ago when she didn't care about impressing him.

"Sounds good," she said, running her fingers through her hair and wincing when she caught a knot. "I'll uh… get ready to go."

"Lovely," he said. "And Jane? Do wear those black jeans of yours. They do wonders for your hips."

Jane's jaw loosened, not falling completely. She could've said something, but her mind had been erased. At some point, he said goodbye. A sound came out of her mouth that he interpreted in kind. For a long time, she listened to dead air. It was quarter to one by the time she got herself into gear and took a hairbrush to the garbage dump that was her hair.

He had actually said that. It wasn't just her imagination. Any time she considered the possibility that he might have misspoken, she wanted to smack herself. The only surprise was that he hadn't been more flirtatious.

Was it possible to have social anxiety and be a cheeky asshole at the same time? She was going to be asking herself that question for days now.

Jane almost stopped and went home three times on the way to Sunrise Cafe. It was only a few blocks away from the hotel, so she decided to walk. Heels were a terrible idea and she always felt like her ankles were made of plywood in them anyway. Her sturdy, yet relatively clean and only a few years out of date flats would have to do. Paired with a navy blue jacket, she almost felt something akin to classy. It was better than wearing plaid at any rate.

Still, it took mountains of effort to keep her feet moving. Arranging this… encounter was bound to be a bad idea. She could think of a dozen ways it could go wrong and only a few ways it wouldn't. By the time the curvy script spelling out 'Sunrise' appeared at the end of the street, she was lost in a dense crowd of pedestrians, pulling her in one direction. She had to walk faster to keep up with the foot traffic.

Outdoor seating was full and Jane couldn't find Loki among the patrons. She wondered if she'd gotten there first, but Loki didn't seem like the 'fashionably late' type. He also could have blown her off to go hang out with supermodels or something, but she wouldn't go down that rabbit hole just yet.

Inside was just as packed as out. A group of seven was on their way out as Jane walked in. She glued herself to the door frame, sucking in her minuscule gut to keep from hitting them. Not a single one spared her a glance as they talked to each other or on their phones. When they were gone she approached the hostess stand.

"Hi, I'm-"

"Jane Foster?" the barista asked.

Jane was taken aback. Was she a fan? "Er- yes, I am."

With a sly smile, she pointed one elegant finger. "He's right there."

At a table in the corner magically separated from the rest, Loki sipped a cup of tea and watched the cars go by out the window. He suddenly looked up, making Jane jump. Smiling, he waved her over. Jane's chest ached entirely due to exhaustion from the long walk and nothing else.

"Good afternoon," Loki said as she sat down. "Good to see I haven't been stood up again."

"You've been stood up?" Jane asked.

"You find that hard to believe?"

"Honestly yeah, I do."

Loki hummed, running his finger over the rim of his mug. "I see. Thank you for the compliment."

The waitress came by and Loki ordered a soup and sandwich combo. Jane ordered the same and then they were alone.

"So…" she said.

Loki steepled his fingers. He was wearing yet another suit and looked like he was auditioning for the next James Bond movie. "So," he repeated.

'Dammit, I knew I should've rehearsed something.' Jane swallowed and pretended she was looking at a mirror and not his face. "I… wanted to apologize for what I said the other day. I didn't mean to dredge up bad memories."

He hummed again. Slower, more deliberate. Sipping his tea, he took his time answering like he knew her anxiety was rising and wanted to milk it just a little longer. "I take it you looked me up?"

Jane nodded, suddenly feeling like she'd intruded on something private. "Yeah, I did. I saw the whole… you know."

"I do know," he said.

"So… yeah, I'm sorry about that. I wouldn't have said anything if I'd known."

"Well, I don't believe that," he said while unfolding a napkin.

Jane stared at him. "What?"

He leaned in, enunciating every word. "I do not believe you. You are a scientist. It's in your nature to be curious, especially about things you don't understand. Whether you choose to ask a question or not doesn't change the fact of its existence. Wouldn't you agree?"

The way he smiled, he was obviously trying to get under her skin. For what purpose, she didn't know. She was starting to think analyzing Loki's words and actions were just fighting a losing battle. Everything he did, no matter how irritating or contradictory to what she thought she knew of him, was all just because it was amusing to him. Maybe that was the one real truth she'd been looking for.

"I suppose so," she said after a minute. "I just figure it's a personal matter and none of my business, so I shouldn't ask."

"If you did, I might answer," he said.

"Maybe, but I shouldn't assume."

"Well, if no one made an assumption every so often, we'd never make any progress."

Jane closed her eyes, trying to make sense of whatever direction this conversation was going in. "Are you saying you want to talk about this?"

"I'm saying that as a woman of science, it is your duty to pursue all possible leads, whether or not you find any answers."

He sat back, cool smile firmly in place. Their food hadn't arrived yet, and Jane realized she forgot to order a drink. She could go get one, try to work out whatever this meeting was turning into. To think this had been her idea. She willingly walked into this bizarre reverse interrogation thinking she'd get something out of it. It was the worst experiment she had ever undertaken, but he was right about one thing.

"Fine. How did you feel when you found out?"

Loki's smile sharpened. "I'd prefer not to say. It is rather personal."

It might've been easier to take if he laughed with his voice instead of his eyes. That look drove her mad with rage and frustration and a few other emotions she couldn't quite comprehend. All of them wanted her to grab him by the collar and do… something to him.

Jane huffed. "I didn't ask you here to play games."

"Oh?" Loki asked. "Then you didn't want to continue our prior discussion? What a shame. I was having such fun before we were interrupted."

"I just want you to tell me what you need to play this role," she said, crossing her arms. "Anything about my research, my daily habits. Whatever you want to know, I will tell you."

"Is that so?"

"Within reason."

He pouted, but she sensed it wasn't serious. That was the only reason she didn't get up and leave.

"Then we shall continue," he said, his face brightening. "Wonderful. Why don't you go first? Ask me anything you'd like."

The waitress arrived with their food, delaying their game of twenty questions as Jane ordered a small latte and took a bite of her roast beef sandwich. Loki took several, delicate spoonfuls of soup. They'd both gotten French onion and it smelled divine. Jane nibbled on the bread before sitting up straight.

"If you really want to do this," she began. "Then… why did you star in that tarantula movie?"

In all the time she'd known him, he'd never looked more pleased. If Jane didn't know any better, she'd think he was waiting for her to say that.

"Would you really call it starring?" He took another bite of soup. "You do know what role I played."

"You were the villain or something right?"

"I portrayed Dr. Ernst Arachna, the megalomaniacal scientist who created the tarantsunami to further my plans for world domination. At least until they retconned it in movie six to make them aliens."

"That must have been annoying."

"Not as much as you might think. I was already a retcon. The spiders used to be mutated sewer creatures."

"So why were you in it?"

Loki pursed his lips. "For fun, I suppose. Before that, I featured in a historical drama as a rakish duke and it was honestly rather dull. For my next role, I wanted something a bit more exciting. You should have seen my agent's face when I told him to accept the offer."

"Did he want you to star in another period drama?"

"He had a list a mile long."

Jane snorted, pausing to eat some of her soup before it got too cold. "Why did you want to star in Bridgemaker?" she asked.

"Ah ah ah," Loki said, wagging a finger at her. "It's my turn to ask a question."

Jane furrowed her brow. "You really want to do that again?"

"Very much so."

His voice made her skin feel tight. Someone must have turned the heat up in here. "Fine, go ahead."

Loki appraised her, bringing one long finger to his chin. "Well…"

'Please nothing dirty. Please nothing dirty. Please nothing dirty.'

"What do you prefer on your pizza?"

Jane froze, processing the question with the speed and reliability of a dial-up connection. "Uh- sausage and peppers."

"Lovely. Now then, to your question." He sat back like he couldn't see the look on her face at all. "I chose to star in this movie because your story is fascinating and I respect everything you've done to advance our understanding of the universe. I believe this is a story that needs to be told, so how could I not be involved?"

As he spoke, Jane nodded along. She felt like an interviewer acting out the role of an engaged participant. Any reporter not completely infatuated with him always acted the same way. Now she knew why.

"Is that all?" she asked.

He raised an eyebrow. "Do I need more?"

"It's just that's the answer you always give."

"I fail to see your point."

"It just doesn't sound real. I already know you're contractually obligated to promote the movie, but I'm not holding a microphone in your face."

"You think I'm lying."

"No, I don't think you're lying, I think you're playing softball." Jane leaned in, maintaining eye contact at all costs. "You want me to be a scientist? That's my theory."

It was impossible to tell what Loki was thinking. All Jane knew was that she'd never seen a face like this in interviews. There was a grace to him like he had all the answers, and for a split second that was absent. Perhaps Jane was finally seeing through the mask.

Even so, his creeping grin didn't surprise her. Nor was she unnerved, though some primal part of her psyche calmly suggested she run. Returning to her soup, she waited for him to gather his thoughts and give her another brusque answer.

"I have one more question for you," he said.

Jane nodded with a mouth full of onion. "Go ahead."

"What is a normal day for you?" He drank his coffee, lips slightly puckered. "Would you show me?"

'That was two questions,' the smartass in her wanted to say. He probably wouldn't have minded if she had, but that would just lead them on another tangent. The cafe was getting busier, the myriad of voices rising to a deafening roar. The waitress came by with their checks, telling them there was no rush though her frenetic pace and lack of a smile said differently.

Jane dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the table and pushed out her chair. "It's not very interesting."

"Let me be the judge of that." He was already up and buttoning his coat. There was a fifty-dollar bill on his side. Show off.

"All right," Jane said, in a voice that betrayed nothing, especially not the growing concern of just what exactly she was getting herself into. "Let's get going."

Jane checked her email. There were a few that needed answering right away. She left those in the inbox. Three of them were a spam that slipped through the cracks. She marked them as such and they vanished. Two clothing stores she'd forgotten she was subscribed to had sales going on all weekend. One of these days, she'd get around to unsubscribing. Today, she just deleted them.

When everything had been sorted, she got to work on those replies. The first was from one of her colleagues back at Culver who had a few questions about a comet he'd been tracking. As Jane studied the attached photos, Loki rolled his chair an inch forward. A moment later, he rolled it an inch back. He took a break and then rolled it forward, then back. Then forward, then back.

"Please stop that," Jane said, eyes flicking to him. "It's very distracting."

"Have you considered investing in quieter chairs?"

Right, because she had so much money lying around for luxuries.

Well, she kind of did these days, but whatever.

"I told you this would be boring."

"I'm not bored," Loki said. Another inch forward.

"Your chair says different."

"A disinclination to sit still in an uncomfortable position for an extended period of time is not the same thing as boredom."

"So stand up."

"Well, I don't feel like doing that either."

Jane didn't look at him again. Not even to glare. If she did, she'd see his smug, smirking face like he'd just set a trap and she walked straight into it. After sending all three emails, there was one more that had just arrived. It was from Kirby's Florist confirming this month's order of a dozen pink roses to St. John's Cemetery.

Her heart clenched. Was it that time of the month already? Sending back a quick affirmative, Jane closed her laptop and took a deep breath. Of course, Loki noticed immediately.

"Trouble?" he asked.

"No," Jane said. "Just some business I had to take care of."

"You order flowers often?"

"Yeah, for Erik." She bowed her head. "I send flowers to his grave once a month. It's the least I can do after all he did for me."

Loki nodded. His mouth remained closed and Jane believed with far more conviction than she ever expected that he had nothing smart to say about it. "I attended a seminar he conducted during my undergrad. He was a brilliant man. You were close to him, weren't you?"

"He was my father's best friend," Jane explained. "The two of them were like brothers. When my father died, he took me under his wing. Taught me everything he knew and then some. He used to say he was jealous. He and my dad would argue for hours about a problem that only took me a few minutes to work out. He was exaggerating of course, but it did make me feel special."

"He might have meant it," said Loki.

Jane laughed. "I was ten. He definitely did not mean it."

"Well, when you put it like that…" His phone buzzed and he checked it with a grimace. As he typed, Jane gawked at him.

"So now you're disagreeing with him?"

"Technically, I never agreed, to begin with," he replied. "Perhaps you shouldn't be so presumptive."

Though that should have made her angry, it was hard to scowl with a smile on her face. Her muscles were tense, stuck in one shape until she forced herself to relax. While she waited, she glanced at Loki's screen, not intending to snoop but unable to help herself. A chat conversation involving walls of texts on one side and two to three-word responses on the other bore a name familiar to her in potentially the worst possible way.

"Thor," she muttered to herself, not realizing until it was too late that she'd spoken out loud.

"He messages often," Loki said, closing out the chat. "Giving me updates about his life as if that's the most important part of my day."

"Maybe he wants to hear about your day."

"All he has to do is read the tabloids for that."

Jane sucked on her lips, preventing any more words from coming out. Despite his earlier teasing, this was clearly a sensitive subject for him. She had to tread carefully.

"What does he talk about?" she asked.

"His wife is pregnant," Loki said, checking his nails for dirt. "It's their first child. He keeps me up to date as I am to be the godfather."

"That's really sweet," Jane said.

"So says my mother." Loki dropped his hands into his lap once he was satisfied they were clean. "I can't help but suspect it wasn't her suggestion."

"Well, even if it was, Thor and his wife wouldn't have taken it if they didn't really want you."

"I suppose…"

Jane hesitated a moment before speaking again. "Do you want to be the godfather?"

He had turned away from her, eyes distant like life had disappeared from them. It left Jane at a crossroads, unsure if she should speak again or back away slowly. An alarm went off on her phone, the one reminding her to clean her telescope optics. She silenced it- it could wait until later- but the sound drove Loki to his feet.

"We've been sitting here too long," he said, rolling his shoulders. "My bones are aching."

'Oh, now you want to stand,' Jane thought. "Okay, what do you want to do? Because aside from some housekeeping, I've got nothing else planned beyond watching Netflix."

On the table, Loki's phone vibrated. A new message alert popped up over a soothing nature stock image. Loki read it silently, and Jane wondered for a moment if it wasn't Thor again. Then Loki chuckled.

"How about a double date?"

The club was packed wall to wall. Their table near the balcony was barely big enough for four. That was why Darcy had no problem forgoing chairs entirely and sitting in Brock Rumlow's lap. She had even less of a problem cleaning his tonsils out with her tongue. If anyone noticed the borderline fornication happening two tables away, they were too drunk, stoned, or both to care.

Jane stared at the dance floor, turning her head so far away from the couple that her neck was close to snapping. Every time it looked like they were going to give it a rest, they went in harder. Darcy's hand was up Rumlow's shirt while he kneaded her left breast. They were moaning like animals. Jane covered her face with her hand, but they still managed to poke into her peripheral.

The only saving grace was that Loki was just as disturbed as she was.

"You two… certainly have become well acquainted," he remarked, playing with a napkin. "And in such a short time as well."

"Hey, when you know, you know," Rumlow said.

"I know I want you in a broom closet," Darcy growled, attacking his neck.

"Easy, babe, we'll have plenty of time for that later," Rumlow gently pushed her back into her chair. "Right now, I think we've traumatized them enough."

Darcy whined like a baby, burying her flushed face in his hair. She pouted over the music until their next round of drinks arrived. Then she downed her third pina colada.

"Jane, would you fuck him already?" she jabbed a finger at Loki. "I can't be the only non-virgin here."

"Ignore her, she always gets like this." Jane knocked her hand away and it fell limp over Darcy's head.

"I find her quite amusing," Loki said. "And she does make an excellent point."

"I'm not a virgin," Jane snapped. That was not the most important part of that statement, but her last Margherita was just starting to hit her.

This was the classiest club in Canada, which was not a sentence Jane ever thought she'd say. Actors and directors alike frequented this location during their downtime. It boasted three floors, a full bar and dance floor, state-of-the-art sound equipment and classy modern decor themed around Ancient Rome. White pillars held the ceiling in place and made it feel bigger than it was. Like stepping into a cave. If all Jane could hear was her own voice, she was pretty sure it would echo.

It lived up to its reputation as far as she could tell. The drinks were good, she was pretty sure she'd spotted Ewan McGregor stepping outside to take a call, and everyone around her was having the time of their lives. Hell, she was starting to enjoy herself a little.

"What do you drink?" Jane asked.

Loki looked at her. "Are we still playing that game?"

"34-25-34," Jane said with a soft hiccup, "just in case you were going to ask."

"Thank you for saving me the trouble, " he said impassively and did indeed look her up and down as he spoke. "I drink mead more than anything else but I fancy a gin and tonic every so often."

"Mead. Sounds medieval." She gulped down another Margherita.

"It's an acquired taste but I do enjoy it."

"Bet you've acquired a lot of tastes, " she laughed like it was a joke. "Being so well-traveled and all."

"And I bet you don't drink very often, do you?"

Jane laughed again. He was suddenly hilarious. "You really are smart."

"And you really need a break." His fingers brushed the neck of her glass like he was going to take it from her.

Jane snatched it back. "Who are you, my dad?"

"You tell him, Jane!" Darcy shouted, pumping a fist in the air.

A new song played that was identical to the old one. Jane only recognized it as something new due to the temporary drop in volume. The dance beat mixed with the crowd, energizing them even through a haze of alcohol. Someone whooped, leading to a wave of scattered cheers. Eventually, it reached their table, and Darcy let out a howl of delight before stumbling into Rumlow.

"I love dancing!" she shouted.

"Me too!" said Rumlow.

"Do you like dancing?" Loki asked Jane. He spoke in complete sentences, enunciating every word perfectly. Almost like those three cocktails had never happened.

Bastard.

"It's growing on me," Jane said after another drink. She scowled at him. "Why are you sober?"

"I'm not."

"You look it."

"I hold my liquor well." Just to drive the point home, he finished his drink with barely a grimace and held out a hand.

Jane was right the first time. He was a stupid face haver. A stupid, handsome face haver. With stupid pretty eyes and a stupid sexy smile.

Well, two could play at that game. She stood, wondering for a moment why her legs had been replaced by popsicle sticks. After gaining her balance, she took his stupid strong hand and let him march her through the crowd with his stupid long gait. He was not so tall or broad that he could part the crowd with a look, but Jane knocked into far fewer people than she expected as they started down the stairs.

It was not as crowded on the dance floor as she'd feared. Darcy and Rumlow had cleared out a few stragglers with their aggressive dance moves that looked more like some kind of war dance than anything that went with the music. To Jane's surprise, nobody looked in Loki's direction. Not even the gaggle of tipsy college-aged girls who most assuredly would know exactly who he was. Maybe there was some truth behind the whole Marilyn Monroe thing. Which wouldn't make sense because he exuded the same marginally earned and possibly exaggerated confidence he always had since the day they met.

And he still looked freaking sober. Sexy jerk.

"Shall we?" he asked, taking her hand.

"I don't know this song," Jane said, followed by a hiccup.

"Neither do I."

He started moving- or was that the ground?- with the music. It was a fast, poppy tune with a shrill female singer and an over-enthusiastic drum beat. Whatever it was, it had lyrics. Something something love. Something something my body. Something somethings words Jane should be able to decipher, but the booze wouldn't allow it.

Throwing that aside she waited for what she assumed to be the chorus and spun Loki around. She laughed as he gasped and stopped moving mid-turn. Jane tried to pull him, but he wouldn't budge. All her effort amounted to nothing more than aching arms.

"Stop being so ridiculously strong," she sniped.

"I don't think it works like that," Loki said. "What exactly are you doing?"

"Gee, I don't know. Maybe dancing?" Jane tried to spin him again, the soles of her shoes squeaking on the glass floor. "What are you doing, the Statue of David?"

"Thank you for the compliment," he smiled. Jane got the sense he'd taken that the wrong way, but her brain was too fuzzy to care.

"You said we should dance. Now you're saying don't dance." Jane slapped her forehead a little too hard. "Make up your mind, pal!"

"I have a striking suspicion you won't be happy with me tomorrow," he said.

"Nah, I'll just be hungover." The song changed to something else she didn't know, and she pulled his arm as hard as she could. "Come on, dance already!"

This time, he acquiesced. She tried to spin them again, not knowing any other dance moves beyond the first half of the macarena and YMCA. Fortunately, Loki was prepared. He took the lead and they flew across the dance floor, undisturbed by other dancers. Rumlow and Darcy had withdrawn to a dark corner where they pawed at each other's clothes and ate each other's faces.

Jane tried to roll her eyes at them, but that just made her dizzy. Good thing Loki was holding her steady. He had her pressed tight against his body. If he wasn't wearing a shirt, she could lick his chest. His muscles were awesome. Understated, yet defined. She could feel every dip and crevice as she ran her hand over his stomach. That was a hell of a six-pack right there. Hopefully, he didn't notice her sneaking into the gaps between his shirt buttons. She was doing her best to be discreet.

"I see you're enjoying yourself," he said.

Dammit. Her cover was blown.

"Meh, it's okay." She slipped and fell against him, scraping her nails on his abs which probably didn't hurt him at all since he was made of granite. "Would you believe I've never done this before?"

"If you mean dancing while drunk with a man you barely know," He smiled at her poor attempt at scowling, "then yes, I would. It fits perfectly with your character archetype."

Jane hiccuped again. "My archy-what?"

He kept smiling. Jerk. "In a romantic comedy, you would play the role of a straight-laced career woman who dedicates herself almost entirely to her job, usually to the detriment of all else in her life. Her story involves learning to step outside her comfort zone and find new aspects of life to enjoy. Often with the help of a handsome male love interest."

"Are you serious?"

"If you think I'm not, you clearly haven't been to the movies lately."

He was absolutely serious and that was the funniest thing Jane had ever seen. So funny, in fact, that she didn't pull away or snap at him in indignant rage or anything the feminist in her thought she should do. Being compared to a cheap movie stereotype was not a compliment no matter how he tried to spin it. Assuming it actually was a compliment. It hadn't sounded like an insult. Maybe it was just an objective observation.

Whatever the case, she was laughing. Laughing and hiccuping and clinging to him because this song was a real grower. She might even look it up later.

"Is this the part where she starts loosening up?" she asked.

"It can be if you so wish," he said.

"This… this doesn't mean you're the love interest, you know."

"Then I shall settle for the role of romantic false lead and enjoy your company for a single night."

This was so incredibly ridiculous. Jane looked around for cameras, convinced this was all some reality prank show or a scene from a real romantic comedy. There was one guy on his phone who appeared to be recording something. When Jane locked eyes with him, he stuffed the phone in his pocket and rushed out the door.

Aside from that, no one was watching. They were all alone in their own little bubble, moving to a beat she could barely keep up with. Dropping all pretense of indignation or sobriety, Jane sunk into his arms and allowed him to carry her along. Her feet got the message her brain didn't, matching his speed and rhythm perfectly after only a few missteps.

"You're very good," she slurred as he dipped her.

"You are very drunk," he replied, shying away from her face.

"But it makes me a good dancer, right?"

"Passable."

"You're a jerk."

"So I've heard."

He changed tactics. Instead of spinning, they glided in a way that didn't match the music. She didn't know if they were waltzing or sashaying or something completely different. The brief few months she spent suffering through ballet lessons had not prepared her for this. She had to go by her instincts, what few unsharpened ones she had.

At the very least, she could keep up. They moved together, avoiding stepping on each other's feet and almost bumping into another couple. Jane laughed when they glared at her. She could honestly say she'd never had this much fun in her entire life. When she tried, it came out as a jumble of meaningless words, but Loki seemed to get the message.

"This is the part where we come in close," he said.

Even as he said it, he didn't pull her in. If anything, there was more distance between them. Which meant he was making fun of her again. What a stupid handsome ab-having asshole. He was lucky she was starting to like him.

"When do we kiss?" She asked. That probably wasn't the right question, but it was the only one she could think of.

Loki raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to kiss?"

"I didn't say that," Jane replied, even though his lips really did look nice. "Just said this is when we kiss, right? In the movies. They always kiss now."

"You're right, they do," Loki nodded. His hands moved up her arms. God, they were so nice. "You know what that makes it?"

"Romantic?"

"Cliche," he spun her again and when Jane came back in, she landed smack on his chest. "It is perhaps the second most predictable turn this story could take."

"After what?" She giggled. "My intern and your bodyguard hooking up?"

"That is closer to five or six."

"Okay." Jane got up on her tiptoes. "I will accept your expert wisdom."

'This is a bad idea,' said some long-forgotten part of her brain that was somehow still sober.

Honestly, why did she listen to that voice so often? All it did was tell her to be boring.

Maybe this was why the workaholic character needed to lighten up.

As the music blared, Jane looked deep into Loki's bright blue eyes. They were hypnotic and beautiful in a way she was too dazed to describe. All she knew was that she wanted to stare at them forever and the stars couldn't compare. She held his shoulders for leverage, closing in on his lips. He didn't resist, didn't push her away as their breath mingled and the dramatic film score in her head reached a heart-pounding climax…

And then the screen went black and the movie was over.

Loki caught Jane as she fainted, her hair cascading down over her shoulders, nearing touching the floor. He gathered her up; she was lighter than a feather. When did she eat? Someone had to get to feeding her regularly.

He carried her off the dance floor, past the bar, and back to their table. Rumlow and Jane's assistant stumbled over in the opposite direction, laughing at nothing. Their clothes were rumpled and Darcy Lewis's glasses were askew. She fixed them as her eyes adjusted to the sight of Loki laying Jane out across two chairs.

"Whoa, what happened?" she asked, which came out more like 'whowahaaaned'.

"Dr. Foster needs her rest," Loki explained as he moved her into a more comfortable position. "My driver will take you both home if it suits you."

"Beats taking a cab," Darcy most likely said. "Long as I get a souvenir."

She puckered her lips at Rumlow who eagerly accepted the invitation. Loki sighed and took out his phone, sending his driver a message to bring the car around. It would be some time before the amorous couple tired themselves out, so Loki browsed the internet aimlessly and watched the minutes tick by.

The clock was covered momentarily by a text alert. Before he banished it, he caught the first few words.

'Loki, Mother is making lutefisk tomorrow-'

He sighed and put the phone away. Thor just wouldn't give up. The rest of the message was undoubtedly more about Sif's condition and the baby. Mother's latest projects and father's retirement. All things Loki had spent years trying to convince himself he didn't care about. It grew harder every day, especially now with the new voice of his conscience rolling between his ears.

'Do you want to be the godfather?'

Loki shook the question away and entertained himself with the thought of just how angry poor Jane was going to be tomorrow morning.

Jane was angry.

Pressing a cold compress to her head, she crumpled on the couch in her suite's living room. The cushions were soft, but not too soft. She had a pillow from her bed and a blanket within arm's reach in case she got cold. That would've been the least of her problems, but she didn't think she could get up again if she was missing something.

Her phone hadn't rung all morning. There were no new text messages. Mr. Branson either knew about what happened yesterday or he was just taking a break from bothering her. She prayed with whatever strength she could muster that it was the latter. Since Darcy hadn't rushed over in hysterics with TMZ on her phone, she assumed they hadn't made the front page today.

Unless Darcy was still too busy screwing Loki's bodyguard to check.

No, she couldn't think like that. It would only drive her insane. She couldn't check herself either. Any light in her eyes would be like daggers rammed into her skull.

"Why did I do that?" She moaned as the ice numbed the pain for a few precious seconds. "Why. Why. Why. Why."

She'd almost kissed him.

She'd almost fucking kissed a fucking a-list actor she hadn't even liked two days ago.

Bad enough that she'd gotten roped into yet another heart to heart.

The worst part was remembering it all with perfect clarity. Alcohol had never dulled her senses the way it did her old college buddies. It was a blessing and a curse, helping her keep relative control of herself while inebriated but running the risk of some horrifyingly embarrassing moment getting forever burned into her memory.

Like trying to make out with an actor.

There were several truckloads to unpack here, but at the moment, Jane would've rather slept the headache and possibly the whole rest of her life off.

Several hours after closing her eyes, she awoke to a slightly darker room and a bunch of bananas on a plate next to her. She grabbed one and wolfed it down. The headache was mostly gone and she needed to put something in her stomach.

Despite the presence of fruit, Darcy was nowhere to be found. Most likely she'd come home for a change of clothes and then headed out again after leaving her a snack. Jane checked her phone for any messages. There were several, all of them from Mr. Branson.

'Hey Jane, sorry to bother you again, but I really need you to look at this script. I'm meeting with the producer tonight at five if you want to come down. If not, please just okay the changes.'

It was 4:45. That wasn't happening.

Sighing, Jane flopped back down on the couch and chugged an entire water bottle before clicking on the link. Her plan was simple: read the new pages, write a few surface-level notes, then go watch TV until all the pain was gone and she no longer felt the sting of humiliation from making kissy faces at Loki.

The first scene was normal. Just one of Jane and Donald's pointless interactions at a bar. They were talking about childhood toys of all things. Not even a mention of chaos theory. Scrolling down, she reached the next scene. As her eyes scanned the page, the agony that had dug its way into her gut was uprooted. It gradually faded with each new line, replaced first by total confusion, then dawning horror, followed by burning rage.

"What. The. Fuck."

Jane grabbed her coat and her car keys and was out the door in seconds.

A/N: What could it be that has Jane so worked up? Another horrible change? Something worse? Find out nex time!