audreyii_fic: and then obviously the donald thing has to be wrapped up because loki would still have something to say about that
Wherein Donald Blake gets a surprisingly warm reception. (Humor/Romance. PG-13.)
Don feels a certain level of nostalgia as he drives into Puente Antiguo. How can he not? He spent the first third of his residency at the county hospital. He even actually volunteered for the location, filled — at the time — with all sorts of naive ideas about being a small town doctor. Saving lives! Doing good!
Actually living in the boondocks cured him of that. Self-awareness is a virtue, and settling down fifty miles from a sushi place just wasn't going to cut it. Isolation grated in a way he never imagined.
He would have begged for the transfer after only a few months, instead of holding out for a year, if it hadn't been for Jane Foster.
Again. Naive.
The rental Mercedes has turned from cherry red to rust brown by the time Don pulls up to Jane's laboratory. It hasn't changed, except for how the roof's faded a little lighter and that star-antenna has begun to list to the side.
It's like stepping back in time.
Which makes it extra-surreal to knock on the glass like a stranger, like he didn't live here for six months and make breakfast in that ugly little kitchen and sit on that raggedy couch late into the night, waiting for her to put down her charts and come to bed—
Jane's not the one who answers the door.
"Hello." The guy blocking Don's way is tall — still shorter than him, but only by an inch or two, which is unusual in that Don is nearly always the tallest person in a room by half a head — and dressed in a suit and tie, even though it's not even noon. He gives Don a once over, looking nonplussed. "May I be of some assistance?"
"Yes. I'm Donald Blake."
The guy's puzzled expression doesn't change. He just raises an eyebrow.
Having to ask permission to enter the lab. Yet another thing that doesn't fit with his memories of this place. "I'm an old friend of Jane's," Don elaborates. "Didn't she tell you I was coming?"
A small, polite smile is the response. "It must have slipped her mind," the guy says, but he backs out of the way nonetheless and opens the door wider. "You're welcome to wait, however."
"She isn't here?"
"I'm afraid not."
Odd. Jane might forget things she considered unimportant, like dinner and sleep, but Don would never have called her flighty. Yeah, it was short notice, but he hadn't known he'd be in Albuquerque for the conference until last week, and hadn't decided to take an extra day to drive down until yesterday. Besides, it's not like Jane ever went anywhere.
Same old couch. Don flops down into his favorite cushion.
"Make yourself comfortable," says the guy with another polite little smile. "May I offer you a drink?"
"Sure. Is there any coffee?"
"I could make a pot, if you wish. I've become quite proficient at it."
"Then I'll take some of that. Thanks."
"Of course."
Don watches the guy go through Jane's cabinets with assurance. He knows his way around. "I didn't get your name," he says.
The guy introduces himself, but Don doesn't quite catch it. "Luke?" he says.
The guy pauses in the act of loading coffee grounds into the machine. "If you'd like," he says. "It hardly matters. I am Jane Foster's research partner."
"Her partner?" Huh. She'd mentioned an assistant, but… "Never thought she'd let someone else touch her work."
"She can certainly be quite... passionate about it. But we've managed thus far."
"I guess so." Don smiles as Luke flips the switch and pulls a carton of cream out of the fridge. "She still drinks that Folgers crap, huh?"
"I'm sorry?"
"I know there's no Starbucks around here, but it's not like the 'net doesn't let you order decent beans."
"The net— ah, yes. The Inter Net."
"Yeah, there's some sites that will set you up for the good Nicaraguan stuff. Not even that expensive. I could never convince her to do it, though."
"Jane Foster can be surprisingly difficult to influence on certain subjects."
"No kidding. Were you already in the states?" It's kind of a non-sequitur, but Don's used to small talk in an examining room, where distraction is a virtue. "Did you come all the way here just to work with Jane?"
"I'm a long way from home," says Luke, "but the research opportunity fell into my lap, as the residents say."
"Hey, it happens that way sometimes. What part of England are you from?" He can't quite place the accent. "I spent some time in London during undergrad. Fun place. Lousy weather, though."
Luke just tilts his head to the side and looks confused.
Okay, that's fair. "Sorry," says Don, raising his hands, "I'm not usually this rude, I swear. It's just… you ever come back to a place you lived after a long time away?"
"No. But I suppose I'll experience it in time."
"Trust me, it's a strange feeling." He nods to where Luke has started pouring coffee into those old chipped mugs. "Seems like it should be me, doing that."
"Does it."
"Yeah. Kind of surreal. Jane was the first girl I ever lived with, so, you know. The instincts."
He hums noncommittally. "Would you care for cream?"
"No, thanks."
There's something a little off about this guy. But then, there was always something a little off about Jane, too. That must be why she can stand to work with him.
Luke brings him a cup, then picks one of Jane's rolling desk chairs to sit in. But sit is actually the wrong word; he lounges, legs spread and leaning on the armrest, like it's a throne instead of some wobbly old thing she hauled in from IKEA a million years ago.
He's awfully comfortable here. "How long have you been working with Jane?" asks Don, taking a sip of coffee. Ugh. Folgers.
"Four weeks, or so I've been told. I've no real intuition for the passage of time in this place."
"No kidding. I was here for a year and it felt like ten."
Luke just smiles again.
Don's good with patients; it doesn't always translate into reading social situations, but there's something in the way Luke's watching him that he doesn't like. But, again, scientists can be awfully strange. "Did Jane say when she'd be back?" he asks, taking another swallow.
"She did not."
"And she didn't leave any boxes out or anything?" Picking up his stuff was just an excuse, of course. Don could care less about old textbooks and some cheap clothes. But he and Jane didn't really end on the best terms — he'd assumed, of course, that she'd come with him after his residency transfer went through, since she'd only been here for eight months herself, but her research grant was tied to this location and she wouldn't even consider a different location — and he wanted to see her again. Repair the friendship a little. See if she'd finally gotten sick of New Mexico.
Never hurts to check.
"No, no boxes," says Luke. "But I'm certain that if you—"
The front doors burst open. "Loki, the card of currency was rejected," says a guy who even bigger than Don — which is kind of unnerving. Also, didn't he used to have jeans like that? "How am I to acquire chocolate without a method of payment?"
Luke — Loki? — rolls his eyes. "Have you considered simply taking it?"
"That is not permitted. If you actually listened to Darcy Lewis, brother, you would know the laws and regulations of this realm by now."
"I know them. I just fail to see how they are relevant to us. And since when have you come to care for obeying the rules? You hardly did so back home."
"It's a matter of simplicity. And respect. Do you not notice the great inconvenience it causes our hosts when we—" The second guy cuts off as he finally notices Don sitting on the couch. "Who is this?" he demands of Loki.
"This," says Loki, his smirk widening into a kind of spooky grin, "is Donald Blake."
Don's not used to being intimidated. He's six-four; he works out five times a week; he's objectively good-looking; he makes nearly seven figures. But the man who just walked in beats him on every front — aside from possibly the money — and the expression on his face is the kind that makes dogs tuck their tails between their legs and slink away.
"We shall remove him together," he growls, stepping forward.
"That's quite unnecessary," says Loki smoothly. "Though I thank you for the offer… and for your support in this matter."
The big guy blinks, and (to Don's relief) looks at his brother. "You do? Truly?"
"I do." Loki's smile becomes something a little more genuine. "Truly."
Okay. Don wants to see Jane, but not this much. "I think I better get going," he says, setting aside his mug. And he tries to stand up—
—only to fall to the floor.
Everything goes hazy.
"Loki! What have you done?"
"Not every situation need be punched its way out of."
"Midgard does not allow for this sort of thing!"
"Oh, it was only a bit of fun. He'll survive."
"And would he have, had I not arrived when I did?"
"I suppose that depends on how many times I refilled his coffee."
"Loki!"
Don can hear the door open again, and a pair of fuzzy brown boots appear in his vision. "All right," says a female voice. "I think I've got everything."
"Darcy Lewis! You've returned!"
"Of course I did. I was only gone for, like, four hours. Walmart's bargain bin kind of sucked, but I've got Fried Green Tomatoes, Thelma and Louise, and the Elizabeth with Cate Blanchett, even though it wasn't really that good. And I'll pirate The Color Purple. It's a start, at least."
"I… don't understand. You're no longer displeased?"
"Eh. I had to tell you about tampons, so I'm guessing they didn't have a lot of copies of The Feminine Mystique on Asgard. But that's what I'm here for. Liberal arts student for the win."
"I intended to purchase chocolate."
"Cool. You can still do that. Hey, what's with the unconscious guy?"
Someone laughs.
Jane Foster is still asleep when Loki goes to her trailer. It would have been satisfying to remove Donald Blake from the laboratory himself, but both Thor and Darcy Lewis, oddly enough, seemed not to trust that Jane Foster's former lover would come to no further harm while in his care.
Perhaps they had good reason.
Loki personally feels he showed great generosity in not simply using a dagger — the chopping knife would have sufficed — and leaving Donald Blake in the desert to become carrion. What will result in little more than a headache and a short stay at the medic hardly counts as a proportional response to his impertinence in coming here in the first place. Not that Jane Foster will ever know of Loki's restraint on the matter.
His lover is nude in her bed and snoring lightly. Darcy Lewis had sworn that if he had drugged Jane Foster then she would 'tase his ass into next week', but he assured her he had not, and it was the truth. If for no other reason than treating a consort in such a way is beneath his dignity.
No. Jane Foster is simply exhausted.
Still, she stirs when reaches beneath the sheets and begins to stroke the smooth skin of her back. "Go 'way, Loki," she mumbles. "Too tired."
"And here I thought you enjoyed my apologies."
"You didn't mean it."
"You accepted them nonetheless."
"Kept me up all night. Should 'pologize for that."
He slips a hand over her backside and teases his fingers between her thighs. She is sticky and smells of him. As it should be. "If you wish for me to make further amends…"
But Jane Foster only groans. "What time is it?"
"After noon."
She murmurs something, letting out a little sigh as Loki presses deeper—
—only to dislodge his hand as she sits up abruptly. "Oh, shit. Don was supposed to be here by now."
"There's been no sign of him," Loki lies.
"Really?"
"No."
"Oh." She scowls at her clock. "Typical."
"It's a terrible loss, I've no doubt."
"Don't start."
"Your mortal life is irreparably blemished by his absence."
"I mean it, Loki." She pushes him away; he allows it, as a concession to her dignity. "I got enough misogynist crap in grad school, okay? However they act where you came from, you're on Earth, in New Mexico, in my trailer. So you'll play by my rules. No more he-man stuff. Deal?"
He doesn't intend to smile — and if he had the ability, he would conceal it — but he's too pleased to stop himself. "Deal," he says. "And when you are in Asgard, in the palace, in my chambers… you will play by my rules."
Jane Foster stares at him for a long moment… then gulps. "I'm going to wind up in a slave Leia costume, aren't I."
Loki has no idea what that means. He kisses her back onto the mattress rather than admit it.
And he managed all this without the aid of magic.
This is by far the best day he has had in a very, very long time.