AN: to be a four-shot, methinks.
Jane soon realized that taking care of a fallen god the second time around was not as tricky. Though Loki was very different from Thor, she had learned to expect the unexpected, as it were.
So there was no look of shock which befell her when Loki scoffed at her attempts to feed him.
"What do you call this?"
"Spaghetti," and she handed him some water.
She wasn't insulted when he refused to eat it. She thought it was rather funny, actually.
No humor was found for Loki in this predicament. While it was certainly true that he had suggested that he visited Jane Foster, he had never imagined it quite going like this.
He had thought that he would visit her, with her ignorant regarding his identity. He would reveal himself to her only when he had her eating out of the palm of his hand. And then, in his magnificence, she would cower and beg for mercy.
And, depending on his mood and how much she had impressed him, he would either spare her life or he wouldn't.
None of this happened. He told her who he was because he was too injured to lie. Too broken to care. And it angered him beyond measure.
How very dull this mortal was! Her life was filled with going to another paltry structure and deciphering numbers, eating horrific fare, and building fires. In an desert.
It seemed as though no amount of heat could satisfy her.
He tried to keep to himself as best he could, and enjoyed a reasonable amount of success in that endeavor. Jane Foster wasn't in the habit of making idle talk, and that suited him fine.
His magic was still weak from the fall, much like the rest of him, so he was stuck there for some time to come.
He heard her enter the small box she lived in…
"Loki? I have something for you," she called out.
He rolled his eyes. Nothing she could offer him ignited his interest.
She entered the bedroom.
"Here. I got you some clothes. None of the stuff I have will fit you," she tossed the vestments on the bed and smiled. "Oh! Well," she blushed.
Why was she blushing?
Ah…she thought that he would change in front of her…
…change…
His eyes glazed over. That particular word held multiple meanings for him, as he had only just discovered before inheriting Asgard's throne for a few days…and he mentally damned Thor.
"Loki?"
His gaze snapped to hers. He cleared his throat. "Thank you, Jane, for bringing me these," no need to be cruel and unappreciative.
She nodded and left.
He supposed that he should find another place to stay while he healed. His internal bleeding had subsided some, he could feel the stitching taking place beneath his skin…
…blue skin…
He stood immediately and began to dress in the clothes the mortal had brought him.
Not uncomfortable, but hardly appropriate for anything other than lounging about in the box he was in.
Loki went through the curtain Jane had pinned up, acting as a wall, and found her making some beverage of some sort. "Jane, I think that I should find someplace else to stay."
"I was just going to suggest that you stay in the lab. There is a bedroom there. I can sleep on the sofa until you're better, and then…" she paused, turning toward him. "What are your plans, Loki?"
This took him unawares. He hadn't any plans. He didn't like not having a plan, but he often found that his plans went amiss, and that spontaneous action sometimes yielded a better result. In this particular case, however, a plan was a desirable thing. "Well, I hadn't really thought about it."
"No? Well…" her eyes fell, then went to the tea kettle. "Wouldn't you like to return to Asgard?"
"There is nothing there for me," and Loki sat at the table.
"What about your parents? Thor?" Jane handed him a cup.
He glared at her, but offered no response.
She felt herself slightly unnerved at his reaction. "What? You haven't given me anything to work with here. You just mope around like some philosophy student reading too much Kierkegaard, and you stay quiet. Why don't you want to go home, Loki? Do you have some sick plan for Earth?" she spat. She should have been more delicate, but she was too pissed to care, really.
His face had hardened, and he stood, taking the flimsy table with him. "You will do well to remember whom you are speaking to, mortal," the tea, the table, all in disarray on the floor of the trailer.
Jane was too shocked, too frightened, really, to respond.
And Loki left in his sweatpants and tee shirt, out into the desert heat…
Who does she think that she is, speaking to him thusly? No one dared to treat him in this fashion, for they would be lucky to have their lives afterward.
He couldn't maltreat her, for his magic was broken, and he hadn't the means to do anything about it.
Impotent.
Undone.
And his hand went through his hair in mad distraction. The about, for he then noticed that his frantic pace had resulted him in being far from where he had begun.
Where was he…? He looked around, for the road had changed somewhat.
He didn't know…he had wandered off, not paying attention.
He felt…mortal.
Jane had gotten over the initial shock and fear and was promptly pissed off. What a jerk! Messing up her trailer…ungrateful, that's what that was. Jane grabbed her bag, stuffed a sweatshirt inside, and went to her lab.
She had begun to forgive him, if she was being honest. She couldn't hate someone so injured, so broken. And though he wasn't the best company, he was Thor's brother, and that fact alone was enough to soften her somewhat.
Jane entered her lab and threw the bag down. She went over to the kitchenette and brewed some coffee.
Fucking Asgard gods.
Two hours later…
At least she got something out of this debacle. Work had been done.
Jane sat back and spotted her iPod docking station over in the corner of her lab. She got up and started flipping through the music.
Bach's cello suite No. one…she loved that music…it was her dad's favorite.
Jane put it on…closed her eyes, as the deep resonance of the cello filled the space.
Loki decided the best thing to do was to turn around. He had no idea how to navigate this place without the aid of his magic.
He seethed.
….and he began walking back the way he believed he came.
It was hot, but as Loki observed, the sun was slipping down Midgard's horizon, and he would get some reprieve from the furnace of the desert.
Little did he know that the absence of the sun would result in very cold temperatures.
The chill was deep, and though Loki was well suited for the cold, his form had taken such a turn from the fall that his bones felt the numb press in on him. He held himself close, and wound his way through the meagre town.
It was then that he saw her through the windows of the front of her lab.
She was sitting, reclined back, eyes closed.
And he heard the rich pitch of the Midgard instrument tickle his ears.
Loki hesitantly stepped forward, though for all that he was he couldn't fathom why he would hesitate so.
His fingers touched the handle, and he walked in slowly.
Jane raised her head and saw him…doubt in every feature on her face.
His footfalls were soft, as if not to disturb the player…but no one else was there. It was being played on an electronic device, he concluded, and he sat across from her, a smallish table impeding any close proximity.
The music behaved as a tonic to the lineaments of Jane's face. Softly they fell as she studied his reaction, and Loki relaxed as well.
The suite concluded after about ten minutes, and stillness filled the space.
"So…feeling better?" Jane's voice pierced the staleness.
He nodded.
Whether or not he realized it, Loki wasn't so angry just now. "I am, thank you."
"Hungry?"
"I…." he was not, but he suddenly was concerned that that might sound rude coming from him, "Thank you, yes," was that his voice? It sounded so feeble…soft…insignificant.
Jane nodded and got up, going to the kitchenette; and before long, Loki was eating some canned soup and crackers with Jane.
"This is what constitutes a suitable meal on Midgard? No wonder your lives are so short."
Jane laughed a touch. "Stop complaining. It's Campbell's."
"You act as though I should know what that means."
She shrugged. "Trust me, alright?"
"I suppose I don't have a choice," and though he smiled at this, the honesty of that utterance wasn't lost on him.
He had no choice…he was a monster. He had no choice…his fate was sealed. He had no choice…he was a villain.
Except, just now, he didn't quite feel so villainous. Now he felt satiated and calm.
"You mentioned me staying here earlier, did you not?"
Jane nodded. "Yeah…there's a bed…well. More like a cot, back there," she pointed to her right. "Ive already made it up, thinking that you might turn up again. Cold, huh?" she smiled.
Loki shrugged. "It wasn't so bad," he lied, smirking.
Jane laughed. "You drink wine on Asgard?"
"Occasionally."
"Is this a suitable occasion?" she returned with his accent.
"I cannot think of a better one."
So she went and obtained a bottle, and pouring out the drink for them both, sat back to enjoy an evening with Thor's younger brother.