audreyii_fic: i want to write some SOAP OPERATIC TROPES because REASONS

Wherein the Princes of Asgard pay for all that royal privilege and Audrey answers another of her own prompts. (Humor. PG.)

"Jane isn't allowed to grocery shop anymore." Darcy flips through her recipe app, shaking her head. "I can't make dinner out of this."

"What is that one?"

"Cauliflower. And we're not eating it."

Thor frowns. "Is it poisonous?"

"No, it's disgusting." She enters quinoa into the search engine, and the suggestions it kicks back aren't even worth talking about. "Jane!" she shouts from the kitchen — or what counts for a kitchen in this lab. "Jane, I'm pretty sure this is abuse!"

Jane doesn't even look away from some new chart stuck to the corkboard. "We can't live on Hot Pockets," she calls back.

"Since when?"

"Since… since forever! We shouldn't have been living on Hot Pockets before, either!"

Darcy sets down her phone. "Jane," she says, "I will give you ten dollars—" no she won't, she doesn't have ten dollars "—if you can tell me what I'm supposed to cook with wheat germ."

The seconds tick by.

"You just bought totally random stuff from that organic market, didn't you."

"No!"

"Knew it. Are you worried about getting fat or something? 'Cause you look good. Probably all the orgasms. Thor, tell Jane she's not getting fat."

Thor's still reading the back of the Kashi Indigo Morning Corn Cereal box. "How does one freeze-dry a blueberry," he asks, "and, furthermore, why would one freeze-dry a blueberry?"

Loki, who's asleep on the couch even though it's four in the afternoon — according to Jane it's because he can't get his circadian-or-whatever rhythms right, whereas anyone with experience in reality can see the poor guy's just worn out from sex and angst — mumbles something that sounds like Shut up and pulls a pillow over his head.

Honestly, without her, they'd all be like lost kittens in the rain. "Give me the card," says Darcy, reaching for her coat. "I'll grab some Burger King."

"There's nothing left on the card. Money doesn't just fall out of the sky like—"

"Like Norse gods?"

"—yes. Thank you. No. Wait."

Darcy turns to Thor. "How many burgers y'want?"

"Seven," replies Thor.

"Didn't you just hear the part where I said we're not getting fast food?"

"Yep, I did. Loki?"

"Five," comes a muffled voice from beneath the pillow.

"I'm the one who has to justify our expenses to the grant team! How am I supposed to write up forty dollars from Burger King?"

"Probably more than forty. We're gonna need fries, too."

"No!"

"Greetings." This last is Thor, speaking into Jane's cell, which had begun to ring. "Yes, this is Jane Foster's Eye-Phone."

It's an Android, but Darcy gives Thor a thumbs-up anyway. He's getting so good at this!

Jane finally wanders away from the corkboard. "Who is it?"

"Ah. Yes. Who is this, that speaks to us from another Eye-Phone?"

Eh, close enough.

Thor waits for a moment, his usually happy-go-lucky expression turning — well — thunderous. "You will not speak to the Son of Odin in such a fashion, mortal," he growls into the speaker.

Jane has to jump to snatch her Android from Thor's hand. "Hi," she says, bringing the phone to her ear, "sorry about that. My research assistant is a little, uh… never mind. Who is this?" Pause. "Oh. Um… hi."

"You did good," Darcy tells Thor. She raises her palm, and Thor looks at her blankly. "Oh, wait, didn't I tell you about hi-fives yet?"

"I believe not."

Yeesh. There is so much to keep track of.

"Listen, I'm not sure that's such a good idea." Jane's pacing by the window now, her expression strained. There's another pause, then: "Yeah, Don, I know it's your stuff, but you can't just— no, of course I haven't thrown it out. I never throw anything out."

Oooh. "It's the douchebag," Darcy says to Thor. He frowns at her, and she clarifies: "Donald Blake. The guy whose pants you're wearing."

"Ah, yes, I recall. Jane Foster's 'ex'."

"That's the one."

"What is an 'ex', precisely?"

"It's short for ex-boyfriend. They used to live together."

"As platonic companions, or in a romantic sense?"

"She's still got a box of his clothes. Kinda speaks for itself, doesn't it?"

Loki sits straight up on the couch. The pillow over his face falls to the floor with a soft thump.

"Oh, good," Darcy says to him. "I was starting to think we'd have to pour the Coke over your head to get you going."

Jane hangs up, closes her eyes, and smacks the Android against her forehead. "Great," she says. "Great. This is exactly what I need right now."

"Douchebag's coming by?"

"Tomorrow, apparently."

"I thought you said he dumped you, like, two years ago."

"He did— I mean, it was mutual, really. Sort of. And he wants his old notes and books. Since he's 'in the area'." Jane does the air-quotes and everything.

"There's no such thing as 'in the area' of Puente Antiguo."

"I know."

"Shouldn't have held onto his stuff."

"I know."

"This is a previous lover of yours?" For someone who was three-quarters asleep two minutes ago, Loki's looking pretty scary.

Jane fiddles with her phone and pretends like she's not blushing. "Sort of," she mutters.

"Well, then, he will not be 'coming by'."

"What?"

"This 'Donald Blake' will not be 'coming by' for his 'stuff', Jane Foster. You're mine now. I won't allow it."

"Wait. Excuse me. Allow it?"

"Was I unclear?"

Uh-oh. "C'mon," Darcy mutters to Thor as Jane turns a really impressive shade of red. "Back door."

"Very wise."

Halfway to Burger King and they can still hear the shouting. "What an idiot," says Darcy.

"Indeed. Jane Foster is usually such an astute woman, too."

"Yeah, that—" Darcy stops mid-step. Which also happens to be the middle of the street; a Toyota honks as it swerves by. "Hold up. Jane? You think Jane's the one that's wrong?"

"Of course. Jane Foster is the consort to a son of the All-Father. A Prince of the Realm Eternal. Obviously my brother would not permit her to meet with a former lover." Thor spews that bullshit all nice and kind, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "She ought not have spoken with this Donald Blake at all, but Loki is very fond of her and will no doubt forgive her the transgression. We need not worry."

Darcy just stares at him.

Another car swerves out of the way. A Chevy, this time. Thor frowns in confusion. "Are we not supposed to be obeying the laws of traffic?"

"You," says Darcy, "don't get any hamburgers."

And she stalks away, leaving the douchebag standing on the median strip.