RATING: T
GENRE: Human/Non-Magical AU, Angst, Drama
WARNING: Implied Infidelity
SUMMARY: Loki Laufeyson is the mastermind behind Jane Foster's carefully crafted public image, and it torments them both.

MUTUALLY ASSURED DESTRUCTION

"Keep walking, Jane. Go on to your room."

It's a warning, falling from his tongue in a low baritone. He keeps his gaze trained on the dark mahogany door in front of him, his knuckles turning colorless as he grips a glossy key card at his side. Her breath catches shallow in her chest as she wills her feet to obey, to escape to safety down the hall. But he has ever been the black hole and she's in a degrading orbit. One day, she'll be nothing more than molecules scattered across his cold, inky void.

Oh, how badly she wants to be obliterated by him.

Memory slides across her vision of their first meeting—when he entered her lab, tall and impeccably dressed, filling the space from floor to ceiling with his presence. He took her measure as deftly and brutally as an expert surgeon. She was laid bare in that single drop of his gaze, and she hated him. She hated more that immediate and inexplicable magnetic force that yanked her unwillingly toward him—as if her lungs had been burning for want of air her entire life and he was the only source of oxygen.

"You need to use smaller words in your interviews," he stated without introduction in a clipped British accent. "The educated can't understand half of what you say, and the average layman, well..." He reached for a lock of hair on her shoulder, spun it around a long, slender finger as he made a noise of disapproval. "You'll need a new wardrobe, new hairstyle, and perhaps some instruction on how to use cosmetics properly. Although, we'll keep that light—just enough to enhance what you already have."

She jerked away from his uninvited touch. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

He grinned and it was nuclear, brilliant and terrible. "Loki Laufeyson. I'm the 'fixer' sent by Prism Dynamics," he said. "You've made the Einstein-Rosen Bridge a reality, and you're about to become the face of a new technology which is going to change the world as we know it. I'm here to make certain that your launch into the spotlight is—" his pale eyes traveled downward as his tongue grazed his bottom lip, "—perfect."

"I don't need a fixer," she argued, stepping back again out of unconscious need to retreat from his crushing gravity.

He exhaled a raspy laugh. "I beg to differ, Miss Foster. Your first foray into the media was, shall we say, artless. When I'm finished with you, you're going to be a beloved household name—the daughter of Neil deGrasse Tyson and Elon Musk," he said. "Now, tell me about this doctor you're seeing."

She glanced down at the ring on her left hand, one Donald had given her last weekend. Her "yes" had been automatic; they'd been dating for over a year. They were comfortable. They fit. It was a rational, logical decision. She repeated these simple facts whenever the barren landscape of her heart demanded to be heard. Soul-consuming passion was a fiction better left to romance novels.

Loki followed her gaze, his mouth pulling briefly in a taut line. "Ah, I see. I will work it into your narrative." He gave her another smile, this one only marginally less predatory. "Shall we get started, then?"

Six months of hopping around the world, of interviews and presentations, of accepting awards, of testing prototypes—all with her overseer at her side, whispering encouragement, picking apart her fumbles without mercy, helping her work out the seating chart for her upcoming nuptials, laughing at her stupid jokes when she was drunk on exhaustion, sitting on the floor with her in a green room when the homesickness for her old life burned her eyes with tears, suffering her enthusiastic embrace at the first successful field test.

She needs him now, and she could endure the longing that has become a terrible maw in her chest if it were unrequited, but his mask of indifference slipped too often until his desire has become so raw that she has to look away. There are lines that cannot be crossed. Her narrative is set with a charming doctor who tests well with women. Her control over the Einstein-Rosen Bridge project is tied to her public image. Prism Dynamics owns her work thanks to the contract she signed as a hungry, naive scientist. One misstep, and she loses it all.

But the invisible wall of propriety between her and Loki is becoming paper thin. They stand too close, glances lingering a hairsbreadth too long. It's an endless purgatory and she is on the cusp of fracturing. On the flight here, his hand broached the line between their seats, the back of his fingers brushing against the outside of her thigh. Before she could answer with a caress of her own, he withdrew. She stared at him with an unspoken question, and he replied with a barely perceptible shake of his head, his jaw clenched.

"Go, Jane."

It's a plea—a prayer—outside of his hotel room, though salvation is beyond their grasp. There is no reprieve from the weight that slowly suffocates them. There never will be.

"I can't." She whispers the confession, and his shoulders slump. She takes a hesitant step toward him, knowing that this will likely be the end of them both.

"Stop." He braces an arm on the door frame as if it's an anchor against this rudderless moment.

Another step and she's close enough to catch the ghost of his understated cologne and the scent that is distinctly him. She inhales deeply, stoking the inferno that has been eating her alive so long she can't remember when it wasn't there.

"Stop," he warns again, but it's too late. He's turned around, leaning against the jamb, eyes locked with hers as he reaches for the hem of her shirt. He knots a hand it in, encourages her to step between his long legs, not quite touching. Not yet. "This can't happen."

She nods in agreement even as her pulse spirals erratically. "I know."

He wets his lips, and a breath passes. Two. Then: "Tell me that you're mine."

She rises on her toes, dragging her palms over his chest to his neck. "Only if you belong to me."

A smile grows across his mouth in increments.

"Oh, yes."

~FIN~

A/N: Thank you so much for reading this dysfunctional thing. If you want to share your thoughts, I'd love to hear them!