IMPORTANT: This is a collection of (generally) unrelated drabbles and ficlets centered on the pairing of Loki and Jane Foster. They vary wildly in genre and rating. PLEASE NOTE THE RATING AND APPLICABLE WARNINGS AT THE BEGINNING OF EACH STORY. (I'm not offended if you feel the need to skip over some of these!)
RATING: K+
GENRE: Alternate Universe
SUMMARY: During the storms of Rebirth, Loki finds an unexpected visitor in his rooms.
COMFORT
Loki wakes to the crash of thunder, the blinding flash of lightening. Rebirth has begun in earnest, the líf skepnaswooping over the Realm Eternal in a torrent of wind and rain. He glances toward the windows, watches the faint dots glowing like starlight dance and swirl on the violent current of air. As a boy, he'd stay up the first night of the season, curled up in a blanket as he followed the frenetic choreography of the tiny things. But like so many other childhood wonders, the awe has grown thin—a shadow of emotion. He breathes a sigh, flicking a thread of seidr toward the drapes to draw them closed.
A gasp whispers in his room, and he sits up, lanterns burning bright in answer to his will. His brows pinch together when his gaze finds Jane Foster standing inside of his door. The Midgardian—former Midgardian, he corrects himself—is diminutive in her shift, hugging herself and staring back at him with wide eyes. He's curious at her presence. She was sent to Asgard sometime ago, one of the tributes offered up by her realm, and the first Gifted of her kind in centuries. His mother saw to the young woman's tutelage. Loki saw fit to make her life exciting. Just a bit of harmless fun, though Jane was rather vehemently disinclined to agree. Not that all of their interactions were adversarial. The wisp had earned some measure of respect from him, even if the feeling was, apparently, far from mutual.
Which begs the question: "Is there something you need?" He keeps his tone light, playful—perhaps a little dangerous because this is the mask he wears perpetually. His gleaming shield in the bellicose society in which he was reared.
"I…" She jumps at the boom of thunder, gaze darting toward the windows. "I, uh…" Words appear to have failed her, and he measures her with a shrewd look.
"Could it be," he says with a viperous grin as he draws out of bed, "that the dauntless Jane Foster is frightened?" He raises a brow as she lifts her chin defiantly and yet makes no argument. "Do they not have storms in the mortal realm?"
She swallows thickly. "They do, but…" She bites her lip, again glancing toward the unseen gale outside. "They give me nightmares." The admission is hardly audible.
His smile falls away, tips downward in frown. He doesn't intend for his confusion to bleed through the mask, but he cannot trace the path of her logic. If she is frightened, why turn to him? She has other friends. That word clenches white-knuckled in his chest when he thinks of his brother—the pillar of all things Aesir who collects Jane's shining smiles and glittery laughter like maiden favors. Indeed, Loki is hardly suited for this role of comforter.
He takes a step toward her, then another until the distance between them is negligible, until she has to crane her neck to hold his gaze. "What could you possibly desire from the God of Mischief, I wonder."
Ah, there it is. The steel beneath her fear as a hint of a glower washes over her features. He recalls how fragile she had seemed when she first stood at the foot of Odin's throne. How boring Loki thought she would be. Merely another human oblation to appease the immortal protectors of Yggdrasil. She has deftly proven him wrong and continues to do so—a fact which delights him, though he keeps the truth of it hidden well.
"Though I am a skilled sorcerer," he says when she makes no reply, "I cannot rein in the líf skepna. Even I won't risk their ire."
She shakes her head. "No, that's not—" She sucks in a breath. "I just don't want to be alone. Can I… Can I sleep here tonight?"
What a strange request. "Why not Thor?" Loki asks, though he can't be sure he wants the answer.
Jane's mouth curls in a rueful grin. "Because he will take it as an invitation for something I have no intention of giving him."
"And you think I won't?" Loki gives her a feral smile because she is a fool if she believes him to be less of a threat than his brother.
"I don't know," she begins but the rest of her reply is cut off by reverberating thunderbolt. She sways toward him as though she might leap into his arms, but she holds her ground. "I'm willing to risk it with you."
He ponders the implications of her statement. Does she think him a fangless beast? Or is she not opposed to the notion of giving him what she won't give Thor? Though Loki hasn't considered the latter before—not truly—he finds the thought to be of some interest to him now. She's never shown any indication that she has a preference for him, but who is he to debate such needless details? This is quite the fascinating turn of events.
He steps to the side, gestures toward his bed. "By all means, stay."
She sags a hairsbreadth in obvious relief. "Thank you."
Later, when the roar of thunder seems unrelenting, she grasps his hand. She's cold, quaking, and he tugs her toward him, cocoons her against his chest. Perhaps he can play the comforter, though he's hardly altruistic. No, he thinks as he inhales the scent of blossoms and honey in her hair, this is the start of an excellent new diversion. After all, there are many nights of Rebirth yet.
He falls asleep with a mouth stretched in a wide grin.
~FIN~
A/N: Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts if you're willing to share them!