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Chapter Text

"Ladies and gentlemen, live from New York, it's Christine!"

That obnoxious yet catchy bumper music was going to be in Jane's head for weeks. She checked one more time that her hair was in place and her strangely tight designer jacket was clean. Eating a biscuit backstage five minutes before they went live was a bad idea, and she knew that when she crammed it into her mouth and dropped crumbs everywhere. She also knew she'd skipped breakfast this morning and barely had any time for lunch as the producers dragged her around backstage showing her the motions.

"When your name is called, walk on stage from the left. You may wave at the studio audience as you see fit but do not stop until you have reached your seat. When Christine greets you, please remember to make eye contact and smile with your teeth showing. Remember to look directly at the camera periodically, it makes you seem approachable and friendly."

There was probably more to the bloated man's briefing, but Jane couldn't be bothered to remember what it was. Probably nothing important anyway. At least nothing she'd care to ask about.

Why did she have to do these stupid daytime talk shows in the first place? That was the real question.

Pushing aside all negative thoughts ('Try not to frown on stage, it looks bad.'), Jane found a small mirror nailed to the back wall and practiced her smile. Two hours in the stylist's chair had left her looking more like a glamorous celebrity than the dowdy scientist she'd always known herself to be. Her hair was layered and unknotted for once. Her makeup was neatly applied and made her skin shine like never before. If she was honest, that was the only part of this whole 'publicity tour' thing she didn't hate. Too bad the only time the PR guys cared about her appearance was when they needed her to smile for the camera.

On the overhead monitor, Christine Everheart had taken the stage. In what had to be some Italian designer's dress and shoes that cost more than her student loans, she traipsed across the chic living room set and took her place on the red plush chair to the left. Jane mouthed along as she went through the usual talk show host spiel. Thank you all for coming, what a wonderful audience, we have a great show for you tonight and all that jazz.

"Our first guest is a pioneer of astrophysics and the creator of the now legendary F-22 Bridge. She's in the studio tonight to discuss all the juicy details of her research process."

The audience oohed and aahed as Jane straightened her spine and steeled her resolve. She could do this. She wasn't an astrophysicist about to go on a talk show with middling ratings, she was a soldier marching into battle at the head of a battalion.

"All right, let's have a big round of applause for Jane Foster!"

'Doctor Jane Foster' she thought belligerently as she plastered her on her smile and entered stage left.

The lights were harsh on her skin, burning through the layers of foundation and blush. Christine stood to shake her hand, the two of them faking pleasantries under the music. They'd chosen Barracuda by Heart as her intro song. Jane had never really liked that one before she was famous. Now it was like nails hammered into her skull.

"Thank you so much for coming, Jane, it's an honor to have you on my show," Christine chirped.

"The honor is all mine, Christine," Jane trilled.

Two days ago, when they first met, Christine had 'politely' demanded Jane get her a water bottle and then asked when 'her boss' was supposed to show up. Now it was like they were old pals. Ah, the magic of television.

"So, Jane, you've made some amazing leaps and bounds in the world of astrophysics over the last few years. What can you tell us about it?"

Jane shot a glance at the audience. She had to see how many eyes were on her. The answer was 'a lot'.

"Well Christine," Jane cleared her throat, "it was a lot of trial and error. I was working under unique circumstances that required me to think outside the box more than most. Modern scientists typically have the discoveries of their forefathers to work off and develop new ideas around. When you're running purely on theoretical concepts, it takes a lot of improvisation to get you where you need to go."

Christine nodded, her smile fading into a non-committal line as she moved her head in time with Jane's words. Maybe she was even listening a little. At the very least, she hadn't interrupted yet.

"I'll be the first to admit, it's not the most exciting job," Jane went on. "Nothing happened for me overnight. It took years of hard work, perseverance, and a heck of a lot of coffee."

To Jane's relief, the audience laughed.

"That's amazing," Christine said, "but it didn't leave much room for a social life, did it?"

Jane coughed again. It stung her throat. "No, not really. At the time, that wasn't my main concern."

"Hey, no time like the present," Christine said before addressing the audience. "What do you think, fellas? She's single!"

Even more laughter and applause. Jane tried to join in, but the most she could manage was a broken half-smile and a single, tiny guffaw. "Yeah, well, I guess we'll see. Anyway, proving my hypothesis was definitely a big moment for me. Once the pieces start falling into place, it's like a whole new world unfurling before you-"

"Okay, that's awesome!" Christine said. So there was the interrupting. "Now, I think we all know how incredible your work is. The video of your first successful test went live a month ago, it received seventy million views in the first two days alone, and it was just announced that you're being considered for a Nobel Prize. How about that?" She was speaking to the audience again. Jane braced herself for impact. "But what if I told you that Jane is about to reach another milestone? That's right, the rumors are true. Bridgemaker: the Jane Foster Story hits theaters next summer!"

"Well, that's just a working title," Jane would've said if not for the cheering and the stamping of feet and the fact that the producer didn't want to overcomplicate things for the viewers at home. Instead, she went on smiling like a Barbie doll until everyone had shut up and they turned off that stupid Heart song.

"Now, I for one am so excited to see this movie." Jane had watched a few episodes of the show to prepare for today. Christine always said that. "To be a woman in a male-dominated field can't be easy. Are you hoping the film will emphasize your struggle?"

"Er- to an extent I suppose," Jane uncrossed and recrossed her legs. "It was certainly an uphill battle, but I did have plenty of support. Like my godfather, Dr. Erik Selvig. He opened so many doors for me and I know I wouldn't be here today without him. My hope is to show the world the true beauty of scientific advancement. If this movie can accomplish that, then I think it'll be worth putting my name on."

More laughter. She was two for two. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

"And when you say support, was there anyone else helping you along?"

"Well, I had plenty of friends and my mom. She used to say I'd be like my dad someday and I guess she was right. Then there's my best friend, Darcy. She's been invaluable-"

"No boyfriends?"

The way Christine posed the question was clearly meant to get a reaction out of the audience, and boy did it ever. Cheering, whooping, howling for details. Jane chuckled because she was supposed to. If she played it off like the massive joke it was, maybe then she wouldn't have to answer the question.

Except when the cheering ceased, Christine did not move on.

"I… I mean, I dated here and there," Jane stared at her lap and folded her arms exactly like she was told not to do. "I didn't have a boyfriend per se, but… you know, when you're working on something as time-consuming as I was, you have to make a few sacrifices. Things tend to fall by the wayside, but I certainly don't regret anything."

"Ah, it's funny you should say that," Christine grinned. It looked vaguely evil. "Because word on the street is that Loki Odinson has been cast in an undisclosed role-"

She had to stop, her voice had risen near the end of that statement as the crowd collectively lost their minds. Men and women alike were on their feet, jumping up and down and screaming. One woman appeared to have fainted. Her friend was fanning her while mugging it for the camera. Not for the first time, Jane wondered how much they'd been paid to be here.

"Yeah, give it up for Loki!" Christine egged them on before turning back to Jane. "You know, we had him on the show a few weeks ago and he was hinting at a new project he couldn't talk about yet."

"Oh yeah?" Jane muttered.

"I'm sure you've had plenty of time to get to know him since then, am I right?"

A few people oohed. Jane refused to look at them.

"I mean, there are still a lot of details to iron out with the movie. I can't really say anything either, but it's possible Loki Odinson will be in it. I've heard the name tossed around a few times, and there are some minor roles I think he could play."

"Like a boyfriend?"

She really had to keep going back to this. "Well, this movie is meant to be as true to life as possible, so there really wouldn't be any place for a romantic storyline."

"Hey, you never know," said Christine. "You might be seeing a lot more of Loki Odinson sooner than you think. Makes you wish you could play yourself, huh?"

More oohs and ahs. Also, the camera was zooming in on her now. Was it supposed to do that?

"Trust me, I'm no actress," Jane said. "I have faith in the production company to tell my story as respectfully and accurately as possible. There definitely won't be a love interest."

"I cannot have a love interest!"

Kevin Branson was the world-renowned director of three Academy Award nominated films. He was a respected Shakespearean actor and had apparently directed one of Darcy's favorite comic book movies. Jane couldn't remember which one. She wasn't much of a superhero fan.

On paper, he was an ideal choice for writer and director of the Bridgemaker movie. Even though he'd never worked on a biopic and Jane still wasn't sold on that title, early drafts of the script had quelled most of her initial fears. Mr. Branson wrote her as an intelligent, strong-willed woman who wouldn't take no for an answer, but who still had a shade of softness to her. Several scenes had been derived from personal anecdotes Jane had told him over coffee. All of the supporting characters (the ones who didn't get amalgamated anyway) were as true to life as Jane remembered them being. When she read the last draft, she couldn't stop smiling. Never before had she been more confident in Mr. Branson's ability to bring her story to life.

And now this.

"Jane, I understand how you feel," he said, which was complete bullshit because if he had even an inkling of what Jane was thinking right now, he'd throw his notes in the fire and prostrate himself before her. "Trust me, if it were up to me, we wouldn't be having this conversation, but the studio heads aren't convinced that the movie will turn a profit in its current form. They're putting a lot of money into this, you know."

"But don't you see how ridiculous this is?" Jane pulled at her hair until a few strands came out. "This isn't like when we cut the high school scenes to save time, this is literally creating a human being out of smoke! It'd be like… like… making a revolutionary war movie where they use guns!"

"They did use guns."

"Yeah, but not our kind of guns. Not like grenades or AK-47s. That's what you're doing here, Kevin. You're putting an AK-47 where it doesn't belong!"

"You tell him, Jane!" Darcy shouted from outside. Jane and Mr. Branson both glared at the door, where Darcy's black-rimmed glasses peaked through the blinds. As soon as they turned their heads, she slunk out of sight. "I mean… I'm not here! Ignore me."

Mr. Branson sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Look, it's going to be one subplot out of several, and not even the most important one. The studio heads think you need more personal relationships for the audience to relate to."

"That sounds like a fancy way to say a woman's story isn't worth telling if there isn't a man in it!"

"It's not like that," Mr. Branson said. "If they thought this project wasn't worth their time, they wouldn't have greenlit it. They just want a more human component. We can't just have you sitting in your lab all the time."

"So add more of my friends!" Jane shouted. "I can give you a whole list of people I knew in college and during my internships. I also taught for a few years and I had plenty of colleagues back then you could work with."

"You weren't close to them, though. You told me so yourself. Plus, they'd have to agree to the use of their names and images. That's easier said than done."

"So instead of taking a person who actually existed and giving them more screen time, you're just going to make one up."

"We're going to extrapolate from what we know of your time in college and create a character based on that. It'll be easy to integrate him into your social circle because he'll already be in the same field as you. From there, a romance can develop naturally."

"How about not at all?" Jane paced around the room, shoving her hands in her pockets so she didn't hit anything. "I'm not some misanthropic shut-in you know. I've seen my fair share of movies. I know what's popular and what isn't, and if there's one thing moviegoers hate, it's unnecessary romantic arcs. You can't get more unnecessary than this!"

"They hate romantic arcs that overshadow the main story," Mr. Branson said. "I'm not going to let that happen. I'm still the one writing the script, so I'll make sure this remains as unobtrusive as possible."

"If you can keep it unobtrusive, why can't you just keep it out entirely?"

"Because it's not up to me." He snapped. He was fast losing patience with her, and she wished she cared enough not to push him. "I'm not an auteur, Jane. I don't have carte blanche to do whatever I want. In this business, if you want something done, you have to play by the rules."

"Even if they're stupid?" She grumbled.

"Yes, Jane, even if they're stupid." Mr. Branson met her accusing stare and didn't falter. "Look, why don't we go over the new draft. If anything is inconsistent with the tone of the film, we'll work on it. Sounds good?"

'Sounds like I'm being handled,' Jane thought. It was pointless to keep arguing, though. Once he played the 'studio executives' card, it was all over. Her inspirational tale of triumph was about to be marred by a random generic love interest. All she could do was nod along while her body broke out in hives. Someday, she'd walk past the five-dollar DVD rack at Targets and see twenty copies of her tarnished life story sitting near the top, alone and forgotten. For now, she put on a brave face as Mr. Branson pulled up the script on his laptop.

"Okay, so I'm thinking we can introduce him during the first college class scene." Mr. Branson tapped on the keys. "Jane enters in the middle of class and is lectured by the professor. You've already seen that part, and for the moment, it will remain the same. However, now we're going to have her sit in the back of the room instead of the front-"

"I always sat at the front," Jane whined.

Mr. Branson ignored her. "Enter Donald Blake, who is impressed by Jane's gall in talking back to a tenured professor. He's going to speak to her but she brushes him off. This perturbs him, but there's a sense that he hasn't given up on befriending her yet. What do you think?"

'I think we'll have a great premiere on Netflix.' "It's fine, I guess. So this Donald Blake is the guy?"

"Funnily enough, we did find a student by that name who went to your university," Mr. Branson said. "However, he was pre-med and a few years ahead of you. So no harm done."

When he said that, Jane felt a twinge of recognition. Had she known that guy? Maybe he was a friend of a friend or something.

Before they could go one, there was a knock on the door. Darcy exclaimed, "Hey, watch it!" before it creaked open and a long, black shadow fell over the office.

"Pardon me, Mr. Branson. I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

There he was. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome himself (or so the star stuck teenybopper magazines said). He wore a fitted black suit with a green and gold silk tie tucked carefully into his lapel. His hair was slicked back and fell past his shoulders. The few loose strands over his eyes were a casual reminder that it hadn't been a perfect job and he was still at least somewhat human. One could easily mistake him for something otherworldly from those sharp, flawless facial features alone. Quite a few articles Jane had come across theorized that he was an alien, descended from a god, or both. His name only fanned the flames of the meme. Forget Ted Cruz the Zodiac Killer, get a load of Actual Trickster God Loki Odinson.

He was accompanied by a man Jane didn't know, but guessed was a bodyguard. Shorter, but more muscular than Loki and handsome in a rough and tumble way that would probably do more for Darcy than for her. Indeed, when her friend peeked in, it wasn't to berate the intruders for barging in but to ogle the man's backside. He stopped three steps behind Loki, arms crossed intimidatingly as Loki approached the desk.

"I see you were looking over the script," he said, eyeing the laptop. "What a coincidence. That's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about."

"How about 'wait your turn?'" Darcy said to the bodyguard's ass.

Jane resisted the urge to agree with her. "I'm sure Mr. Branson would be happy to speak to you once our meeting is over. For now, if you don't mind…"

She let it linger, hoping he'd get the point. Looking down at her with his cool blue eyes (which were not cerulean pools no matter what the articles said) Loki gasped. "Oh, Dr. Foster, how good to see you. If I'd known you were visiting, I would've come by sooner."

He was so full of shit she could smell it. Just about the only saving grace was that he always remembered to call her 'doctor', but it was hardly any consolation now.

"Thank you, but we really do need to finish up," Jane said.

She looked to Mr. Branson, who up until now, had watched them with an almost bored expression. His fingers curled as if around a pen. God only knows what kind of bullshit 'drama' he could extrapolate from the last twenty seconds alone.

"I do need to see you, Mr. Odinson," he said, "but I'd like to finish going over your introductory scene with Dr. Foster first. If you wouldn't mind waiting outside?"

'Yeah, Loki, wait outside,' Jane thought vindictively. The moment of catharsis, however, was short-lived. "Wait, his intro scene?"

Mr. Branson looked at her. "Yes, his intro scene."

"You're saying he's Donald Blake." Jane slid forward in her seat. "He's playing the love interest."

"Indeed I am," Loki said, masking his evil grin with a low bow. "And let me just say how honored I am to be a part of this most esteemed project. I will do everything in my power to help bring your fascinating story to life."

That was rich coming from a guy playing what was essentially an OC self-insert. Jane sucked on her teeth, careful not to show any outrage while the bodyguard was watching. Somehow, her lips found their way into a hellish mockup of a smile just in time for him to lift his head and take her hand.

"I have been told I am a caring lover," he said, kissing her knuckles.

Jane ripped her hand away. "What the-"

Loki and the bodyguard laughed. "On camera, of course. It is a favorite character archetype of mine. Fear not, I'm certain you'll be satisfied with my performance. Until then, my dear Doctor."

The two men walked past a dumbstruck Darcy, who didn't seem to care that she was on her hands and knees in the hallway and people were staring at her. The bodyguard closed the door behind him with a final nod to Jane. Now it was just her and Mr. Branson, who cleared his throat and started talking about transitional scenes like nothing was wrong. Jane did her best to listen and not rub the hand Loki had touched. It should've throbbed with pain from her embedded nails. Instead, it only tingled.

Chapter Text

The film was to shoot in three locations.

First was a lab set built on in a Hollywood studio over what had once been a candy shop for a Christmas movie.

Second was the courtyard and several classrooms on location at the University of Michigan because Culver refused to sign off on the use of their facilities.

Third was Toronto. Because everything was filmed in Toronto.

They started with the opening scene, a young Jane falling asleep to a bedtime story about astronauts exploring the stars. The child actress had previously appeared in several ads for allergy medication and one for diapers when she was a baby. That was the extent of her credentials as far as Jane knew, but it didn't escape her notice that the girl had hazel-green eyes as opposed to her brown.

"We're going to film all of the childhood scenes this weekend," Mr. Branson had explained. "There's only three, so it shouldn't take us much longer than that. Don't feel like you need to stick around the whole way through if you have other obligations."

Which was a stupid thing to say because of course, Jane wasn't going anywhere until this movie was done. The second she turned her head, they'd add an alien invasion plotline and give the lead actress a nude scene.

"Dude, look what's trending on Twitter!"

Darcy stuck her phone between Jane's laptop and her face. The break room in the studio was as large as two small antique stores and they were the only ones there, so there was no reason not to have at least ten feet of personal space.

"Words that rhyme with irrigation?" Jane read the first line she saw. "I can't think of any."

"Haha, funny." Darcy clicked on the 'JaneFosterMovie' hashtag. "You should've been a comedian… oh boy there's a lot of these. 'So excited for the movie. Jane is such an inspiration.' Okay, retweeting that. 'Who do you think they'll cast as Jane? My money's on Rachel McAdams.' Pfft, yeah right."

As Darcy kept scrolling, Jane tried to read over her speech notes for the Culver commencement ceremony next month. When the same sentence passed three times, she growled and slapped the screen down.

"What exactly are you looking for? More people to argue with?"

"Always and forever," Darcy exclaimed as if offended that Jane would think any different. "Nothing brightens my day more than tearing down edgelords. Can't find any good ones today, though. They must've crawled back to 4chan to regroup."

"Wonderful, be sure to not tell me when they get back," Jane said.

She checked her pockets for her earbuds, but they were cold and empty. She must've left them on the nightstand again. That was the third time this month. One of these days, she'd invest in a wireless set and promptly lose those a million times, too. Money and time well spent.

"What's with you today anyway?" Darcy asked after three minutes of blissful silence. "You're not still hung up on this boyfriend thing, are you?"

"No," Jane said much too loud and much too quickly. "I mean, no, I'm not pitching a fit over it-"

"Actually, you kind of are."

"No, I'm not!" Jane caught her hands mid-smack and placed them gently on the table. "No, I'm not. I'm just a little stressed right now with all these events and interviews I have to go to. There were dinners and conferences to plan. I have a lot on my plate right now, and I'm not going to get worked up over a few minor changes to a movie script."

"Or because people are shipping you guys?"

"Exactly." With that matter settled, Jane returned to the familiar world of numbers and scientific jargon, completing an additional three paragraphs before looking up. "Wait, what's shipping?"

Darcy, who had been staring at the top of Jane's head for the last few minutes, grinned. "Oh boy, are you in for a treat."

Snatching Jane's laptop, she opened Jane's long-neglected Twitter feed and typed in the hashtag. Hundreds of tweets popped up.

"Omgzz Loki Odinson's in it! Seeing it twice now!"

"Seeing it three times!"

"I bet him and Jane will have a lot to talk about. Doesn't Loki have a physics degree?"

"A movie about an astrophysicist starring an astrophysicist? Sounds like some real meta shit."

"I heard his character is fictional. Maybe Jane can give him some pointers in private. ;)"

"Ugggggh she's not good enough for hiiiiiim!"

"Loki will look so good in this movie! They'd better cast a good actress for Jane."

"Too bad Jane can't do it herself. ;)"

"Loki/Jane 5ever lol :D :D :D"

Jane furrowed her brow. "He has an astrophysics degree?"

Darcy gawked at her. "How is that all you got from this?"

"Darcy, I don't have time to worry about people on Twitter. They can think whatever they want… and how would they know so much about Loki anyway?"

"You really don't understand the power of fangirls, do you?" She said.

Sensing this conversation was not going to have anything resembling a point, Jane reclaimed her laptop and closed out the page. Fortunately, her email exchanges and 3d modeling programs were intact and unharmed. On the monitor, the crew was just wrapping up the opening scene in young Jane's bedroom. Jane hadn't watched more than five seconds of it and barely heard anything over the low hum of static. For now, she assumed it went smoothly and no cursed princesses or supermodels had been added.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Mr. Branson. Shooting was over for the day and he wanted her to view the footage before they moved on. There was more about schedule changes and a few press releases they'd be sending out next week. The whole paragraph was three finger swipes long and she wondered when he found the time to write all that.

"Leaving so soon?" Darcy asked as Jane gathered her things. "Here I thought we could check Facebook together."

"I'll let you handle that," Jane grumbled. She didn't mean to sound harsh, but the stupid laptop would not go into her bag.

"Does this mean you're finally appointing me your official social media representative?"

"Sure, whatever." Jane dropped the overflowing bag on the table and gave it one more big shove. The laptop finally went in.

"Whoo-hoo!" Darcy cheered. Out came her tablet and her hands were a storm of typing. "I am going to make you a Twitter legend!"

"You do that."

Jane stepped into the hall, ready to follow an impossible maze of halls and vaguely contradictory signs to the editing room. With any luck, she'd be out of here in under an hour. Then she'd get a quick dinner, finish her notes for next week's interview, and be in bed no later than midnight. It was a good plan. Very precise, very orderly, very mature.

Just like Jane Foster herself.

**

"I hate your stupid face you… stupid face haver!"

Nobody heard Jane's venomous thoughts over the clicks of the cameras. None of the lenses focused on her face. Instead, they were aimed at Loki Odinson and a short-ish woman with dyed brown hair who smiled like a trained professional at the Today Show correspondent.

"And we're here on the set of Bridgemaker: the Jane Foster Story with actors Loki Odinson and Bethany Shortman. Today is the third day of shooting and the first for Loki and Bethany. So tell us, guys, how excited are you?"

"I am absolutely thrilled, Sarah," said Bethany Shortman. As an Oscar-nominated actress with a Master's degree in psychology from Yale, she certainly had the academic background to play a scientist. The difference in field didn't matter as long as she knew the right jargon and looked good in a lab coat. "As soon as I read the script, I knew this was something I had to be a part of."

"Ha!" Jane muttered. One of the cameramen looked her way and Jane quickly brought a finger to her nose. "Ha-choo! Excuse me."

The reporter, who was supposed to be interviewing Jane next but had yet to look anywhere in her direction, had the mike noticeably skewed towards Loki. "Loki, I understand your character was created especially for the movie. Do you feel like not playing a real person will affect your performance?"

"I am very excited to play the role of Donald Blake," Loki said easily. "There are a great many differences between bringing to life words on a page and those of a real person. Now I have the great honor of doing both. Bridgemaker will be the tale of a truly extraordinary woman. Someone who might not need love to support her, but who certainly deserves it. That is my humble part in this endeavor and I wouldn't have it any other way."

That smarmy, self-satisfied kissass. Jane would've vomited if there wasn't still a camera three inches away. The reporter, of course, was hanging off his every word. He could lean over and kiss the microphone at this point. Even Bethany Shortman, a married woman with two kids, was blushing. And that was completely ridiculous because every word of that syrupy drivel was such fucking crap. Hallmark movie writers would've cringed hearing that.

This guy was supposed to have a goddamn astrophysics degree. This guy!

The interview continued with more pointless questions about early production and working with Kevin Branson, how they found out about the role and blah, blah, blah. Jane had briefly flitted with the idea of being an actress as a child, and she'd never been more relieved that that little flight of fancy was never realized. By the time the interviewer turned to her, she had to actively keep herself from gagging.

"So, Jane, how do you feel about the film so far? Any thoughts?"

Just one: how many goddamn reporters were going to ask her that goddamn question? These people had no originality to speak of.

"I'm very happy with the film so far," Jane recited. "Bethany is an amazing actress and Loki… well, what can you say about Loki? He's one of a kind."

The reporter bobbed her head. "Uh-huh. Uh-huh. It must be amazing, a movie all about you and your life story-"

'Is it though? Is it?'

"-Did you ever dream you'd come this far?"

"I can honestly say I didn't," Jane said.

Since she wasn't a glamorous actress or a tabloid magnet, the interview ended there and the reporter turned it over to her colleagues in the studio. As soon as the camera was off, Jane felt like she gained an extra twenty pounds of weight. Everything was heavy, from her feet as she lifted them to her eyelids as she struggled to keep them up. When was the last time she slept without copious amounts of sugar and caffeine in her system? Had to be at least a few weeks. She'd been trying to wean herself off it, but every time she tried to rest, some new obligation popped up. Another meeting with Mr. Branson or the IAU. Some fancy dinner with academic bigwigs or an interview for Teen People.

God, she needed a break. No more new appointments for a while. She was taking this weekend to herself.

"Hey, Jane!" Bethany Shortman click-clacked over in heels that made her almost half a head taller. "Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you were free for lunch sometime this week? I have a few questions just to make sure I'm doing you justice. Does Saturday work?"

"Absolutely!" Jane said cheerfully. "I'll be free all day."

What she failed to realize, as Bethany went on about this amazing cafe downtown that served sixty-eight varieties of tea, was that Loki had yet to walk away. In fact, he was basically hovering over them, all long limbs and styled hair and mouth with a thousand teeth. Seriously, why were they always so shiny?

"Before you make any plans, I may wish to borrow you for a time," he said.

Borrow her. Borrow her? What was she, a doll? "If there's something you wish to discuss with me, Mr. Odinson, I'm sure we can do so after the press conference next week. Until then, I'm afraid I'm booked solid."

"Not so solid that you can squeeze in a lunch with one star," he replied, that stupid, stupid grin widening. "What's another?"

"A complete mess is what it is," Jane retorted. "I have to be careful with my schedule. You've been on promotional tours, so I'm sure you understand some of what's like to be busy."

The jab was unintentional. It just slipped out of her mouth and she hoped Bethany wasn't offended. The actress was inching away from them, muttering excuses about checking in with the wardrobe department before scurrying off into the shadows. Great. Now she was stuck with him.

"Look, Mr. Odinson-"

"Loki, please."

"Right, fine. I understand we got off on the wrong foot. I don't mean to seem hostile towards you, but I'm not happy about this love interest thing. I know that's not your fault and you're just doing your job, but-"

"You do a lot of justifying," Loki said, crossing arms which his shirt stretched rather tightly over. "When you could just say you don't like me and be done with it."

"I like you just fine," Jane said, sounding as convincing as a child with their hand in the cookie jar. "My issue is with the studio for forcing these changes. However, I am willing to be respectful and work with you in order to make this movie the best it can be."

"Then you will join me for dinner this Saturday?"

"Yes," Jane said, nodding in satisfaction. "Wait no! What? Why would I do that?"

"Why wouldn't you?" Loki asked like that was at all a legitimate question. "Is becoming better acquainted not part of the process?"

"We're already perfectly well acquainted, thank you," Jane said through her teeth.

Of course, Loki made it all the better by continuing to smile at her. "I must disagree, Doctor. Part of my process as an actor is exploring my character from every angle. Getting to know him inside and out so I might understand his thoughts and motivations at the most base level."

"Well, that won't be too hard for you, will it?" Jane said. "You're basically creating him from whole cloth. Plenty to work with there."

"Very little actually," Loki countered. "Much less than I would prefer. That's why I hope you can help me fill in the blanks so to speak. To understand who Donald Blake is, I must first understand who you are."

Jane wanted to laugh. This was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard in her life and she half-expected a film crew to pop out from behind a building and let her know this whole thing had just been an elaborate prank. At this point, she'd be happy to go back to the desert and be a complete nobody coasting on a meager grant again if only it meant she never had to stand next to Loki Odinson again.

"As you just heard, I'll be busy that day," she seethed. "I'm not just going to leave Bethany hanging."

"She requested a lunch if you recall. I am asking for dinner."

'Fuck you,' Jane bit back with the desperate will power of a man carrying a boulder up a mountain. "Maybe I can squeeze you in next weekend. I'll check my schedule and get back to you."

"Shall we say four o'clock?"

"I'm meeting with a representative from Stark Industries that day."

Loki laughed. "Ah, yes, dear Tony. The biggest fool to ever be a genius. You will give him my regards of course?"

Before Jane could fire back with how much he definitely wasn't on a first-name basis was Tony Stark and who did he think he was fooling, Mr. Branson appeared, Bluetooth in his ear and tablet in hand.

"Look, I'll call you back," he said into the Bluetooth. "I have to take care of something right now. Okay, bye."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Branson," Loki says, shifting seamlessly into 'prince' mode. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

To Jane's neverending amusement, his charm bounces right off Mr. Branson. Maybe because he'd been playing the Hollywood game and dealing with primadonna starlets for years, but all the charisma in the world wouldn't bring him to his knees for Loki Odinson.

"Yeah, we need to talk about the first meeting scene," he said. "I've made a few adjustments to the dialogue. I want this guy to sound less like a Harvard professor and more like a contemporary student. Less purple prose, more split infinitives, you know?"

Loki grimaced, which Jane hated to say she didn't disagree with. "Yes, of course. I see precisely what you are saying. It will be an excellent challenge."

They huddled around the tablet, shutting Jane out in the cold. She wouldn't be surprised if Mr. Branson hadn't noticed her at all. He'd been so swamped with scene changes and meetings with the producer, that Jane hadn't seen him in a week. Since this meant no more major changes had been made, she took that as a good sign. Ambling up to the men, she caught the first few lines of the new scene and snorted.

"This is ridiculous," she said, leaning in to read better.

The two men looked at her. "Come again?" asked Mr. Branson.

Jane tapped the screen. "This line right here. 'I'd look at the stars, but I'm lost in your eyes.' Are you kidding me? Who talks like that?"

"I can think of several people," Loki said. "Or have you never been to a party?"

"Real people do not talk like this," Jane clarified.

"So the answer is no," Loki said, very much like a cat with a mouse in its claws. He took the tablet from Mr. Branson and scrolled up to the top of the page. "You must read it in context. Jane and Donald are meeting following their first class together. Donald is impressed with Jane after she successfully corrected a mistake the professor made in his opening lecture. Now is his chance to speak to her alone. It stands to reason he would be nervous and fall back on cliches to make himself heard."

"Cliches are one thing. This is just bad writing."

Loki gasped. "Are you really going to insult Mr. Branson to his face?"

"Hey, I've heard it before," Mr. Branson shrugged.

"And I don't see how you can determine good writing from bad when I don't believe you've ever tried your hand at fiction."

"Oh, and you have?" Jane scoffed.

"Several times." Loki kept scrolling. "Look here, at the start of the scene, Jane is just leaving the building when Donald Blake approaches. He is afraid. Note that he tries to speak several times, but cannot summon the nerve."

"Hi, Jane. You were really cool today. I think we should hang out." Jane put her hands on her hips. "Was that so hard?"

"It's painfully stiff and unrealistic."

Growling, Jane snatched the tablet. "And you think 'maybe you're the girl for me,' is realistic? They just met two minutes ago!"

"It's banter."

"It's stupid!" Jane would've happily thrown the tablet at Loki's fat head and shut him up forever. Except that in the time it took her to complete the thought, it had somehow disappeared from her hands.

"'Ext. outside Culver. Jane is leaving class with Donald trailing after her. He keeps several feet behind her, careful not to be seen as he struggles with how to begin a conversation. Words fail him several times. His body language is small and nervous. Like he feels awkward in his own skin. As she's about to cross the street, he makes his move. 'Excuse me, Jane, I just wanted to say… uh, good job. Today. In class.'"

Jane blinked. An entirely different voice had just issued from Loki Odinson's throat. It sounded like him, with the same rhythm and rough timbre, but the resonance had changed. His accent was completely gone. If she closed her eyes, she'd hear a man born and raised in America. More importantly, she'd see a gangly, awkward virgin stumbling his way through flirting. Yet the man in front of her never changed, even as his shoulders dropped and he made himself look two feet shorter.

"Uhh…" Jane said, glancing around for help.

Of course, only Loki got the message. "Right here," he said, pointing at the next line on the script.

"Oh, thank you," Jane read, flat and robotic.

"Jane continues walking, and Donald rushes to keep up. They are now stopped at the crosswalk waiting for the light to change. 'Uh… I was thinking maybe we could study together sometime? You know, if you're up for it. Also, your shoes are nice.'"

Jane snorted so hard, her nose burned. "Seriously? He's complimenting her shoes."

"Nerves," Loki reminded her. "Have we not all been there?"

The first time Jane crushed on a boy, she spent thirty minutes telling him about the moon rock she bought for three dollars at Universal Studios. He ran away and never spoke to her again. Jane did not tell Loki any of this.

"Fine," she said. "I guess it makes sense, but her response is way out of character."

Loki raised an eyebrow. "'Thank you, they're from Wal-Mart?'"

Jane nodded. "I buy all my shoes at Target."

She folded her arms, challenging him to make any sort of comment at all. When he didn't, she was almost disappointed. "Well, we'll be sure to fix that," he said. "Is the rest of the line to your liking?"

"'I'm going to the observatory later if you'd like to come,'" Jane recited.

"'Well, I'd love to look at the stars, but I might be lost in your eyes,'" Loki's smile was perfectly sheepish. The reddening of his cheeks was so real. Even when he started stumbling over his words, Jane could almost mistake him for fully human. "I mean- not that, I just… you uh, you're very pretty… I'm sorry."

Jane giggled, and to her displeasure, that was also in the script. "Well, as far as flirting goes, that's not the worst I've ever heard. Maybe we can get lunch sometime?"

"Now Donald's face lights up. He was ready to sink into the ground or fade away with the wind, but with those words, he comes crashing back to reality. He almost steps off the curb into the path of an oncoming car. 'Yeah. Yeah, lunch would be great. I love lunch.' At this point, the light has changed and Jane begins crossing the street. Donald is left behind, still struggling to get his thoughts in order and make it clear he is not as much of a loser as he seems. 'I love lunch. I'm an idiot…'"

Loki sighed, slumping over and walking two steps before pivoting on a heel. "End scene. Very good, Jane. Your delivery was a bit stiff at first, but you came through beautifully in the end."

Jane blinked. Looked around. "Wait, what did we just do?"

Three people were applauding. Mr. Branson, Bethany Shortman, who had returned at some point, and a passing boom mic operator who had his phone out.

"That was great," Bethany Shortman said. "I might just be out of a job."

"If you want a cameo, Jane, let me know," said Mr. Branson. "We could even make it a speaking role."

"Okay, I gotta go… do something."

Jane walked off the set, into the parking lot, past her car, and kept going until she reached the McDonalds two blocks away. Sitting by the window with a milkshake and fries, she ran the events of the last ten minutes over in her head a dozen times. They never made any more sense to her. If anything, they got more confusing.

Why the hell did she do that?

Why the hell was it kind of fun?

Chapter Text

Loki Odinson was the farthest thing in the world from a fool.

It went beyond his education, which, though impressive by any standard, did not prepare him for the world the way blind auditions and attending industry events had. Over the years he had built quite a repertoire for himself. He had wined and dined some of Hollywood's biggest names.

Built entire projects up from the ground and burned others down to ashes. Bragging was a simple hobby and far beneath him, but he thought it fair to say he understood most people better than they did themselves. Such was the benefit of the job.

He remembered every role he ever played. From Prince Charming in a primary school production of Cinderella to the lead role in an award-winning spy thriller. There were few character types he hadn't tackled. He even had a few romantic comedies under his belt. Regardless of the reception or how his performance rated against those of his co-stars, there was not a single role he held an ounce of regret for. Not even the villain in that animated fairy movie.

Interviewers endlessly hounded him, hungry for gossip or vitriol against former directors and studio heads. Anything they could make a decent article out of and get a few hundred likes on Twitter. Every time, Loki smiled like he didn't know what they could possibly mean and sang the praises of everyone he had ever worked with.

"Oh yes, I loved making Tarantsunami IV. I may have been a struggling teenager back then, but I learned everything I know on the set of that film."

"Working with Mr. Kiffenmeier was a highly rewarding experience. He even showed me his collection of machine guns and decorative plates. A fine, upstanding gentleman."

"Of course I would love to star in a Lifetime movie. Wouldn't you?"

Their flustered faces and speechlessness were always the highlight of an otherwise excruciating press tour. He'd even done a few commercials for a car insurance company, just to make his agent squirm. Even after so many years, some people still believed he was that oblivious. Just a pretty face with a dazzling smile spewing compliments without a single ulterior motive. Hell, he'd been voted Nicest Actor in Hollywood three times in a row by some website or another.

If they wanted to believe he was a fool, Loki would let them, because he absolutely wasn't.

When he was handed the script for the Jane Foster movie, his first thought was one of relief. Finally, after two years of overwrought period dramas, here was something worthy of his time.

The second was of dread. If this went wrong, it could all too easily become another 'Interview' movie.

That was unacceptable.

He spent the next few days reading up on Dr. Foster. Everything she'd ever published, every article written about her. He even found her high school yearbook photos. That hairstyle was horribly unflattering but such was the fashion of the time. Her face was unique enough to make it work regardless.

By the time they met at a charity gala supporting cancer research, he was confident he knew all he needed to know. Every insignificant tidbit she'd ever shared in an interview. It was enough to get a broad snapshot of the kind of person she was, but far too few to truly understand her.

That night, they spoke for a whopping twenty seconds.

"Hello," Loki had said.

"Hello," she said back.

"There is better wine here than that," he said, nodding at her glass.

In retrospect, that was the wrong thing to say. He had meant it to be helpful and would've happily pointed her in the direction of something more flavorful than nine dollar Riesling. However, she had taken it for an insult. Him calling her crass or unrefined. Normally, he would've thought his words through carefully ahead of time so he didn't make any mistakes. Quite the embarrassing slip-up this was.

He didn't blame her at all for looking cross. "I can choose my own drink, thank you."

Then someone called her over and that was it. She didn't even say goodbye. Rude.

But now he realized there was one crucial detail about Jane Foster that he had missed: she did not take anything lying down.

He liked that about her, but he was pretty sure she didn't like him.

When they met again in Mr. Branson's office, that notion was undoubtedly confirmed. Their little improv show for the crew didn't seem to have helped matters. Loki enjoyed it immensely. Jane got mad and stormed off.

Ay, there's the rub.

Sitting in a nondescript bar in downtown Toronto with a mop water-flavored beer, Loki pondered his predicament while watching the other patrons watch a baseball game.

"God, the Jays fucking suck," Rumlow mumbled, and Loki tended to trust his judgment on these things despite him rooting for a team that didn't win very often. "I mean, I'd take 'em over the Yankees, but that's not saying much."

"Hmm…" was Loki's well thought out and eloquently phrased response.

After knocking back a beer, Rumlow ordered another. If he wasn't technically off shift right now, Loki might have said something. Actually, he should probably say something anyway, but he just had so much on his mind already.

"So," Rumlow said, wiping hot sauce off his lips, "think the Doc likes you?"

Loki glanced at him, running a finger around the rim of the glass. "I rather think she finds me extraneous to the project. It may not be a direct assault on my character but it speaks to how she views me as a person."

"Extraneous," Rumlow formed his mouth around the word in wonder. "What's that mean?"

Loki rolled his eyes. "You know what it means."

"Nah, man, I don't know big words like you do."

"You have a Master's Degree and you worked on Wall Street."

"I don't see how that disproves my point."

Loki took out his phone to check his messages. Anything else would just give Rumlow satisfaction he didn't deserve. Scrolling through the spam and junk from his agent, there wasn't anything that urgently needed his attention. Thor had sent a message earlier that day with the headline 'family dinner'. Loki deleted it.

"It doesn't matter whether or not Dr. Foster likes me so long as we can behave professionally around each other," he said.

"So putting on amateur dinner theater together after asking her on a date is professional?"

"It wasn't a date."

"Oh yeah, forgive me," Rumlow grinned. "You just asked her out to a fancy restaurant where you'll presumably be paying and where you ask her personal questions about her life and career. Yeah, that's not a date."

"I don't see why you care so much," Loki said, staring at his phone screen.

"Just because you pay me to punch photographers for you doesn't mean we can't be friends off the clock, does it?"

"I hope that's not all I pay you for," Loki said, lifting the glass to his lips as he momentarily forgot it was full of piss.

"I'm just saying, you seemed pretty cozy with her," said Rumlow, grabbing another drumstick from the basket. "If that doesn't mean something, then you might want to tone it down before the press starts getting ideas."

"Oh, they always do that," said Loki. "Remember when I had that threesome with the stars of Mr. del Toro's last film?"

"I was thinking more about the horse thing," Rumlow laughed.

He wouldn't stop laughing for a good three minutes. A few drunks overheard and joined in, not caring what was so funny or if this might cause problems for them down the line. After a while, Loki checked his watch.

"Yes any time now," he grumbled. "Any time, Mr. Rumlow."

"Oh man, that was a good one," Rumlow wiped his eyes. "But for real, if you're trying to make something happen, you might be barking up the wrong tree here. Isn't Foster famous for being a workaholic?"

"And is that not just another way of saying she's passionate?" Loki rubbed his chin, sinking deep into thought as someone's pitcher scored a touchdown or what have you and the bar erupted in cheers. "This can still work… I just need to change tactics."

"You know best," Rumlow said. He burped and devoured the last of his wings, leaving a twenty under the basket. "Let's go. I'm at my limit and I'm not getting to the gym today if I'm drunk."

"When has that ever stopped you?" Loki asked. He met Rumlow's middle finger with a gentle smile. "Just keep punching those photographers, Mr. Rumlow."

Rumlow snorted. "I'd better. You might break a finger if you tried."

"I do work out, you realize."

"Yeah, prepping for roles doesn't count."

As they gathered their things and headed for the door, Loki thought about what he'd say to Jane Foster the next time they met. He already had a few ideas, some of them good. Others less than. At the door, the woman at the hostess stand started to wave, then stopped. "Hey, uh, you look really familiar. Are you an actor or something?"

"No," Loki said and he handed her a fifty-dollar bill.

**

They were shooting Loki's first scene today. Two hours in the makeup chair and he looked as close to college-aged as a thirty-something man could ever hope to be. They had considered asking him to dye his hair blonde and go with a curly look. Something about it being more 'youthful' and 'approachable'. Or 'debasing', he supposed. The idea had long since been dropped and they were all better off for it.

Jane was already on set when he arrived. Huddled in the corner with Bethany Shortman and that friend of hers, they were deep in the throes of conversation. Bethany had her copy of the script out and Jane was taking a pen to it. One line, in particular, seemed to be bothering them, and as they hashed it out, Jane's friend surveyed the scene. She spotted Loki and frowned. He smiled at her, and the frown turned into a glare.

Hm. This could pose a problem.

"Mr. Rumlow, if you would," Loki muttered to his bodyguard. He gestured with his chin at the ladies. "See if you can't keep that young lady distracted for a while. I'd like a chance to speak with Dr. Foster alone today."

"Sure thing, boss," Rumlow said. He hadn't needed to ask who Loki was talking about. His eyes had been on the girl since they first walked in.

"Okay, let's clear the set everyone," Mr. Branson announced through a megaphone. "We're going to do a quick run-through before the cameras turn on. Loki, Bethany, if you'll please take your places."

They were in the courtyard of a music building at the University of Toronto. Some last-minute legal disputes had prevented them from using the Michigan school, which saved everyone airfare if nothing else. Several signs had to be covered up. The rest would be edited in post. Loki and Bethany entered the building where a small group of crew members, including the first assistant director, were waiting. Loki had been introduced to the man two days ago and promptly forgot his name. Until he heard different, he would think of him as 'Paul.'

Paul adjusted his headset. It was too big for his narrow head. "Okay, as soon as Mr. Branson says 'action', Ms. Shortman, you step out. We're going to count to five and then Mr. Odinson follows. You both know what to do?"

Every single question the man asked was like that. Yes, Loki knew what to do. He also knew which way was up and what color the sky was, but perhaps Paul would like to give them a refresher.

"All right everyone, let's try to get through this without stopping," Mr. Branson's voice boomed. "And… ACTION!"

Out went Bethany Shortman. She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt that might as well have come out of a thrift shop reject pile. Her hair was loose and barely brushed. A mole just like Jane's had been painted on her cheek. She looked decent.

Loki waited for Paul to reach five and threw the door open before he finished the word.

"Excuse me, Jane, I just wanted to say… uh, good job. Today. In class."

They ran through the scene on autopilot. Lines spewed from Loki's mouth in his best 'awkward virgin' voice. Bethany answered in turn, slipping into the role of Jane with practiced ease. It was unsurprising. She was an actress of tremendous ability. A rising star who'd already received several Oscar nominations. Those watching from the sidelines might not even see the difference between her and the real thing. Loki did. He saw it all too well and that was going to drive him mad.

"Okay great," Mr. Branson said when they were done. "You went a little fast at the end, but that was good. Filming starts in five."

He left his chair to talk to one of the cameramen while Rumlow, who seemed to be doing everything he could to show off his developed musculature, sidled up to Jane's friend.

"Hey," he said, "Darcy, right? It's getting kind of boring around here. Wanna go get drinks?"

Darcy snorted. "What kind of stupid ass question is that? Of course, I do! Let's get some wings, too."

Rumlow's eyes lit up. The woman of his dreams surely.

Long after they were gone, Jane was still flipping through her copy of the script. Every so often she'd stop, shake her head, and mark something down in red pen. Like she was a primary school teacher grading tests. It was oddly endearing, as was her confusion when she turned to say something to Darcy and found her gone.

They did three more takes on film before they broke for lunch. Jane was now actively searching for her friend, asking everyone around if they'd seen her. Loki watched her from the steps. Her hair swished in her face like she hadn't brushed it this morning. That shirt appeared to be at least a day old. Not that Loki was judging, but he couldn't help taking note of every aspect of her appearance. How she made what would've been slovenly on anyone else look oddly flattering.

The costume department should take note.

Paul, whose real name was Raphael according to the boom mike operator, powerwalked down the sidewalk, mumbling to himself about meeting deadlines. What a silly thing to be worried about at this juncture. Technically, they were only one day behind. With him gone, Loki could meander and watch Jane flit about in peace. Obviously, no one knew where Darcy was. Her concern was beginning to trouble him.

"You can talk to her, you know."

Loki turned to Bethany. She'd been on the phone with her husband last he checked. Seemed the call had been cut short.

"Pardon?" he asked.

"Jane, I mean. She doesn't bite."

Ah, so she had misinterpreted his hesitancy. No matter. It was easy to make himself look dejected. "She seems less than fond of me. I wouldn't be surprised if she did bite."

"She's just nervous about the movie," Bethany said. "Maybe you can help calm her down."

With that, Bethany wandered off to get some food. Her words lingered, as did the strange smile she gave him before departing. If he didn't know better, he'd think she was implying something…

As his own stomach whined, he strolled through the grass, hands in his pockets. This button-down shirt and blue jeans combination was so unbecoming of his character. If only he'd packed one of his suits. Women on staff would eye him regardless, but a good fourth impression was equally as important as the first in his view.

"Do you require assistance?" he asked, approaching Jane.

She didn't snap at him to leave, glare at him, or react initially to his presence at all.

"I'm fine," she said. "Looks like Darcy's flaked on me, though. I can't believe her sometimes."

Loki nodded sympathetically. "Is this common for her?"

"Usually there's a guy involved." Intuitive. Loki liked that. "It just sucks because she was my ride here. Guess I'm taking the bus home."

"I have a car," Loki said without thinking. He stood up taller. "I brought it with me today."

Jane snorted. "Let me guess, a stretch limousine with a jacuzzi?"

"It's a Jaguar."

"That was my second guess."

"I only mean that I am happy to give you a ride should you need it," he said.

"What I need right now is something to eat," she said, patting her stomach. "You know if there's a Subway or a McDonald's around here? I didn't want to say anything, but I kind of hate the catering."

It was rather subpar compared to other sets Loki had been on. He'd taken to bringing his own food and leaving it in his trailer's miniature refrigerator.

"There is a cafe several blocks away," Loki said, nodding to the left. "A bit of a walk, but a fair drive."

"You really want to get me in a car with you, don't you?" Jane asked.

Loki frowned. "You really don't believe in kind gestures, do you?"

They stared at each other for so long, the whole movie could've been filmed, processed, and released around them. He fully expected Jane to crack first and declare that she needed the exercise and thank you very much, have a wonderful day Loki. Instead, she let out a sigh.

Twenty minutes later, they were standing at the counter reading through a menu hanging from the ceiling by zip ties. They'd added a few options since Loki was last here. The Fajita Fiesta sounded fine, but he would be apprehensive to try a 'Sweet Meat Slider'. At least not without someone he disliked to make uncomfortable. Jane ordered a ham and cheese sandwich and found a table near the window.

"Thanks again for the ride," she said, spreading mustard on the bread.

She sounded sincere enough, but it was better not to risk it. "You're very welcome. I hope my performance today was acceptable."

She shrugged. "I'm not the one you're trying to impress."

"Aren't you?"

The ensuing pause wasn't long, but it did remind him of those scenes where something profound and meaningful was about to happen between the two leads and they both needed a moment to process it. Loki hated those scenes. They were far too predictable.

"I guess it is my movie," she said. "Even before this whole love story thing, I knew giving Hollywood the rights to my name was going to be a double edged sword."

"That doesn't mean you can't stand up for yourself," said Loki.

"I tried that and it didn't work, did it?" she started to grin and then dropped it. He didn't know why until she started fidgeting. "Look, I'm not trying to insult you. I know we got off on the wrong foot, but nothing I've said is to imply that you're a bad actor or don't deserve to be in this movie. I'm sure you'll do great."

"Thank you," Loki said, lacing his fingers together. "Have you seen any of my previous films, Doctor?"

Her eyes fell and her nostrils flared. "No, not really." Ah. So that's how she was playing it.

"My first onscreen role was a bit part in a World War II drama. I had one line and exactly seven seconds of screen time. At the time, I considered myself lucky just to even have a speaking part. Every film I've made since has been the same. However many opportunities I get, I like to think I have given all of them the care they deserve."

"Even that spider flood movie?" she asked.

If she thought that would get a reaction out of him, she didn't know him very well. "I believe you mean Tarantsunami, and yes, I do include it."

"You actually liked being in that movie."

"And what of it? You haven't even seen it by your own admission."

There was something wonderful about catching a person in a lie. Especially when that someone had such an appealing blush. "Y-yeah, but… forget it. I just mean playing the made-up love interest in a movie like this can't be the highlight of your career."

"Does it have to be?" he asked. "Can I not take a role simply for the love of acting? Not everything is about winning awards."

"I never said it was," Jane said, clearing floundering. "I mean, you have though, haven't you? Won awards, that is."

"A few." Loki thought back to his last Golden Globe win. Still no Academy recognition, but it would come. "But I have been in far more productions than I have won or even been nominated for. Do you believe I starred in Tarantsunami 4 for any reason other than the thrill of it?"

"I can't think of any reason to be in a movie like that," she said. "Except maybe losing a bet."

"Then you understand. I did not accept this part for critical acclaim. I did it because out of all the roles I've been offered over the years, this is the only one I would have taken based on the name alone. That anything else could have enticed me this way is simply inconceivable."

He took a bite out of his sandwich. Good, though the lettuce was a bit dry. Jane had yet to touch hers. Playing with an edge of the bread, she'd almost completely worked the crust off. Time ticked away and according to the charmingly cartoonish cat clock on the wall, they were more than halfway through their lunch break. No need to say anything yet, but it was worth keeping in mind for later.

"You really wanted to do this movie that badly?" She asked.

"I did," he replied. "I do. I am sorry it couldn't have been in a different way, but just because Donald Blake isn't true to life doesn't mean we cannot make him real for the audience."

He watched her face. The subtle shifts in expression weren't hard for him to read, but the next long pause that followed struck him as oddly disquieting. At no point did he believe pretty words would sway her to his side, but a sarcastic retort at the very least seemed pertinent.

"I heard you studied astrophysics."

A non-sequitur. All right. Easy to work with. "I did, yes."

"I've never heard of you in the scientific community."

"I publish under a different name." Loki's phone in his pocket was suddenly heavy. "But I am greatly familiar with your work and that of your mentor. Dr. Selvig was a brilliant man."

Her face softened. "Yeah, he was…"

"You are brilliant, too."

There was that blush again.

"Thank you," she murmured, followed by a sigh. "Look, if you really do have questions, go ahead. Whatever you think is going to help your performance."

"Are you sure?" Loki asked, and he tried to sound mostly sincere and not too teasing.

By the look on her face, he hadn't succeeded. "I'm here, aren't I? You got your lunch."

"I had requested dinner."

She scowled, but he just couldn't resist. It was his weakness. "Very well. Why did you become an astrophysicist?"

Her brow furrowed. "Really? That's your first question."

"Too common?" He asked innocently. "How about this. For every one of my questions you answer, I must answer one of yours."

"I thought this was you studying me."

"The types of things one is most curious about can say a lot about them."

He watched her consider that, and then finally accept it. Her posture was that of a deer, calm for the moment but alert to any hint of an attack. "My dad was an astrophysicist and he used to take me star-gazing. My mom is a professor of mythology and folklore and she taught me where all the names of stars and constellations come from. Put it all together and I was hooked."

The same answer she'd given in Psychology Today and Vogue. Presumably true, then. "Thank you. Now, your question?"

"Why'd you become an actor?"

How very creative. "To make my father angry. Where was your first date?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Dinner at Denny's and a movie. Where was yours?"

"The Vigeland Park in Oslo. My family often took summers there. What do you do in your spare time?"

"I read mystery novels and watch Netflix. What's your favorite food?"

"Frikadeller. Who is your biggest inspiration in life?"

"My parents and Dr. Selvig. Why did you study astrophysics?"

"To make my father angry. Who do you hate the most?"

That threw her off. Her jaw hung in space, unable to rise. When it finally did, she licked her lips. "I don't understand."

"Yes, you do," Loki said. "Everyone is inspired in some way by spite. Who's face have you dreamed of rubbing your success into?"

She thought for a moment, and he wondered if it wasn't for show. The second he asked the question, she knew the answer. Just like he always did. "There was this one professor I had in my freshman year. It was a statistical physics class and his name was Mr. Falk. This guy was an absolute douchebag."

Loki nodded. "Tell me about him."

"Well, he talked about himself and his achievements constantly and he seemed to think the only acceptable major for a woman in college was home economics," she started grinding her teeth. "He used to assign seats, which was weird for a college class. Me and the other three girls had to sit in the back and we almost never got called on. If he did and we got the answer right, he'd go on about how nice it was for the guys to help us out. They hated him, too, for the record. If you had the right parts, he'd just find something else to look down on you for. Also, he smelled like feet. Really dirty feet."

Loki chuckled. "He does sound quite repulsive. I was wondering why the studio was having so much trouble getting permission to use his name."

"Yeah, I doubt they're going to get far with that," Jane scoffed, folding her arms. "Did you know I got the highest score out of everyone on the final? In all three of his classes. I was only one question off a perfect score. And after the grades were posted, he called me into his office and I'm thinking, 'hmm… maybe he's decided to stop being a sexist piece of shit and he's going to congratulate me. Maybe he'll even apologize!'"

"I take it that didn't happen."

"You think? He started lecturing me about the consequences of cheating and said that if I had anything to confess to him, I should do so now. Somehow, I didn't punch him."

"Then you have admirable self-control," Loki remarked.

"I just said that I was well aware of how bad cheating was and that if I thought someone had copied off me, I would be sure to let him know. I kept playing dumb until he gave up. Seriously, even Erik couldn't stand him. He complained about Falk all the time, but the Dean liked him for whatever reason. Plus, he had tenure."

"And were you ever able to get back at him?"

"Yeah, actually," she said, "a little while after my bridge went public, I received a Distinguished Alumni Award from Culver. Professor Falk was there for the ceremony. He shook my hand and started feeding me this bullshit about how he always believed in me and that I was his favorite student. I pretended not to remember him, and when I gave my acceptance speech, I thanked all of my teachers except him."

Loki didn't miss the subtle strengthening of her voice as she reached the end of her tale. Nor did he miss that ghost of a smile. It was full of smug satisfaction and contempt. Bethany Shortman would be hard-pressed to replicate it.

"So how did it feel?" he asked. "Good?"

Jane pursed her lips. "I'd mostly gotten over it by then. He's hardly the biggest asshole I've ever met, and by the time I graduated, I'd long since stopped caring what he thought. Just another bloated bureaucrat thinking he was God's gift. Not someone worth getting worked up over."

'But…' Loki thought, waiting for her to say it.

She didn't disappoint. "But yes, it felt great."

Loki closed his eyes. He could feel her sadistic glee and oh… what interesting things it did to him.

It made him sad to check his watch and find that lunch had ended ten minutes ago. There were three missed calls from Mr. Branson on his phone and one from Paul/Raphael. On cue, Jane's phone began to vibrate. She cursed as she noted the time and took the call.

"Yes, we're coming. Sorry, we got caught up... Yeah, he's with me. He drove me. We'll be there soon. Sorry."

"Two apologies is excessive," Loki said as she hung up.

"Not when I've made an A-list actor into a chauffeur it's not."

After scarfing down the rest of her sandwich, Jane jogged to the car while Loki kept a leisurely pace behind her. She was already buckled in by the time he stepped off the curb. After adjusting his seatbelt and removing the keys from his pocket, they were off. At least until they hit a red light and had to wait over a minute for it to change.

"This street is the worst," Jane muttered.

"If this is the busiest road you've ever seen, you must not have been to England."

The rest of the drive was uneventful. It was nearly twenty minutes since lunch ended when they reached the school entrance. After checking in, Loki parked in his designated spot. He had six more missed calls and three voicemails. At least one of them was five minutes long.

"If it's okay with you," Jane said as they crossed the lot, "I have one more question."

"Ask away," Loki said with a secret smile. She was initiating now. She was curious about him. This was working out better than he'd hoped..

"Why do you want to make your father angry?"

Loki paused mid-step. An invisible wall crashed down in front of him, pressing him back into Jane's space. There was no hiding from her inquisitive eyes, any more than there was from the instant regret.

"That is… difficult to explain," he said. "And easy enough to search as it is."

The second part was an afterthought, spat out like a spoiled bit of food before his common sense could regain control. Not that it mattered. The damage was already done. Her easy gait had vanished, replaced by a distinct tightness as she averted her eyes.

"Wasn't trying to offend you," she said.

"You didn't," Loki said, but of course she wouldn't believe that.

It was something of a relief when Paul/Raphael sprinted across the grass toward them. He barely said a word to Jane as he dragged Loki through the courtyard. Loki didn't know if Jane was following and didn't bother to check. If not now, he'd see her again soon, after Mr. Branson finished his lecture about the importance of punctuality and then Loki carried the rest of the cast through the next few scenes.

Maybe he'd apologize. Or tell her the truth.

His phone rang in the middle of Mr. Branson's reprimand. When the director paused to bark at a lackadaisical cameraman, Loki slid it out of his pocket. Thor's stupidly grinning face beamed at him. After two more rings, Loki rejected the call.

Not today.

**

This breakroom was much cozier than the last one. They had actual recliners and a coffee machine that worked! Jane settled into the plushy chair by the window with a steaming cup of decaf and her laptop. The TV monitor on the wall couldn't show her the playback or anything other than a static-y weather channel. That was good enough for her. In fact, it was perfect.

"Ten more days of filming," she muttered.

Ten more days here anyway. It would be a few weeks before they moved everything to the lab set. Speaking of which, Jane still had to look at those emails from the set designers. Last time, they tried to add a skeleton because their understanding of what a scientist's space should look like stopped at junior high.

Jane opened the first email. The pictures looked fine. The second included a rather conspicuous 'think like a proton and be positive,' poster, and Jane noted that they might want to nix that. She started her reply with the usual 'thank so much for all your hard work', jotted down two more sentences, and then opened a new tab.

Loki Odinson, she typed.

He was out there right now, steamrolling through the movie in that 'adorkable' mask of his. Charming the pants off the crew so they'd never want him to leave. They'd write him into more scenes, delete more subplots to make room for him. Until her life story had devolved into just another cheesy romantic comedy.

The thought alone should've made her throw up. Instead, she was just mildly nauseous. That's what she got for having lunch with him.

She still didn't know how to feel about their little interview. Though his questions hadn't been too personal, she was sure they would've gotten to kinks and dark family secrets eventually. Now here she was, digging through his Wikipedia page for dirty laundry. This guy was a terrible influence.

Loki Odinson is a Norwegian-British actor and writer. He earned a degree in astrophysics from Cambridge University and studied acting at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art. He has received several accolades including a Golden Globe-

Okay yes, Loki is very smart and talented and basically a humanoid alien. How nice and wonderful. Jane scrolled down, wondering why she was even bothering with this. As she read the Early Life section, her eyebrows began to rise.

Loki was born Loki Laufeyson in Tromsø, Norway, to career criminal Laufey' and his wife, Farbauti. He was adopted at six months old by Bortech CEO Odin Borson. The exact circumstances of his adoption have been sealed and Loki himself was unaware of his true parentage during his childhood and early adulthood. [citation needed]

His older brother, Thor, is the current head of Bortech following their father's retirement in 2013. Loki briefly worked for the company after college but left to pursue his acting career. He studied astrophysics at Cambridge and has published several academic papers-

Scrolling back up, Jane read through the table of contents. Under 'Personal Life' was a subsection: 'Parentage Controversy'.

In 2011, following his breakout role in 'The Evening Guard', a reporter discovered records indicating Loki had been adopted shortly after birth following the death of his mother, Farbauti, and the incarceration of his father, Laufey. Laufey, who passed away in prison in 2010, contended for years that his son had been adopted without his consent. However, his formal requests for access to his family's records were repeatedly denied by the Norwegian government. Loki publicly refuted these allegations in an interview with the Evening Post on May 2nd of that year, calling them 'gross slander' and 'completely baseless'. However, DNA testing conducted later that year proved that Loki was not biologically related to Odin Borson or his wife, Frigga. Shortly thereafter, the couple released an official statement:

'Loki is our son, no matter where he came from. We have loved him unconditionally since the moment he came into our lives. There is nothing more to be said except that we are his parents and he is our child.'

On May 19th, it was confirmed that Farbauti died of complications in childbirth and her baby was seized by Child Welfare Services. Two days later, a second DNA test revealed that Loki was the son of Laufey and Farbauti. In accordance with Laufey's will, Loki became the sole beneficiary of his father's estate and took ownership of Jotunheim, the family's ancestral home. Since then, Loki has refused to comment publicly on the matter and has been known to walk out of interviews where Laufey is mentioned.

Jane sat up to stretch. Her arms hurt when she was done and she was not the least bit relaxed. There was plenty more to read. His filmography, bibliography, more about awards he'd won. Jane closed out of the page. At this point, it felt invasive to stay.

'Jesus, no wonder he got so defensive.'

She couldn't imagine how it would feel to learn something so earth-shattering about your past from a paparazzo of all things. You think you know who you and where you're from, only to have the rug violently ripped out from under your feet. Years he'd spent coming to terms with this, and here she was dredging it all backup.

But wait, was that really fair? There was no way she could have known any of that. Two months ago she hadn't even known his name.

'It's not really an excuse. You could've asked another question.'

He was the one who started it, though. There were a million answers he could have given that had nothing to do with his family troubles. Hell, she overheard him telling one reporter it was because Fawlty Towers inspired him. For whatever reason, she was the one he decided to bare his soul to. Part of it anyway.

'Maybe he trusts you.'

That made no sense. They hardly knew each other.

'Maybe he likes you.'

That made even less sense.

"Ugh," Jane dug her fingers into her eyes. "I've never missed New Mexico more. You know what I mean Darcy? Darcy?"

Looking around, Jane realized she was completely alone. Right, Darcy had run off this morning. Didn't even have the decency to say goodbye. Checking her phone, there were no new messages. Not even a missed call. If Jane were a little more high-strung, she might be worried.

"Where the hell is that girl?"

**

Loki was not mad. Not entirely.

It would've been fine if they'd chosen literally anywhere else but his trailer. How was he supposed to take a nap on a couch he would most likely have to burn later? Not to mention one of his favorite songs playing inside. Now every time he heard it, all he'd think about was Brock Rumlow shirtless in loose-fitting gray sweatpants.

"I don't see what the problem is," he said. "You told me to distract her."

"Distract her, yes, not shag her," Loki snapped.

"And you think that wasn't distracting?"

"Brooock!" Darcy Lewis whined. Her leg kicked into view, knocking a lacy blue bra off the couch. "Where'd you go?"

"Be right there, babe." Rumlow grinned at Loki. "Sorry, boss, I'm off the clock. Talk to me tomorrow."

"That's still my trailer!" Loki shouted.

But Rumlow was already inside. The door was locked and the trailer was rocking. Backing away from the chorus of moans, Loki no longer felt tired. What he needed now was a drink.

Chapter Text

"Hi, Jane. Sorry I missed you. I have a few more script changes I wanted to run by you when you have the chance. Also, the studio is asking us to combine a few characters again. Anyway, call me when you get this."

Jane saved the message to her phone, wishing she could delete it. She was at her favorite cafe enjoying a mug of hazelnut coffee and a Tana French book she'd been waiting ages to read. The last thing she needed was more Hollywood bullshit spoiling her good mood. Whatever Mr. Branson had to say could wait. She put her phone in her pocket and threw herself back into the world of the Dublin Murder Squad.

Except she couldn't return to Dublin because there was a smoky odor in the air like someone had just burned their coffee. And because the people on line were all the same breed of loud and obnoxious as they shouted their orders over each other. And because she couldn't stop thinking about Loki Odinson.

This was completely ridiculous. It had already been three days since their luncheon. Since then, they'd barely spent two seconds together. The university scenes were taking longer than expected. Mr. Branson argued endlessly with the producers about whether or not to keep certain lines of dialogue or if they should go ahead and use the Varsity Blues' auditorium for the big award ceremony that would end the film. Meanwhile, Jane had two more talk shows and a podcast to do before next Monday and dinner with the director of NASA on Wednesday. She'd already had to cancel on him once due to last-minute wardrobe fittings for her Jimmy Kimmel appearance. There was no way she could screw this up by being hung up on some big-headed actor all night long.

Okay, maybe he wasn't quite as bad as she thought he was, but how much was that really saying? A jerk with a sad backstory is still a jerk. Just because he found out the hard way that his parents lied to him didn't give him the right to look down on her.

But was he?

The more she went over their past interactions, the less certain she was. Her initial impression of him from the first time they met was that he was an elitist prick. Why else would he pick her choice of wine to comment on over anything else? He could've asked about her research or if she was enjoying herself. Hell, they could've talked about the weather if he was polite about it. But no, he had to go implying she was classless all because she preferred cheaper wine.

Unless, of course, he was just nervous. Maybe he understood this Donald Blake character more thoroughly than she realized. Was it possible he only said what he did because he couldn't think of anything else?

Or had she been reading too much Pride and Prejudice and was now projecting?

Then there was everything else. No matter how she sliced it, he'd never been directly insulting or condescending to her. The worst he'd done so far was that 'caring lover' bit in Mr. Branson's office, and while he was clearly trying to get a rise out of her, it wasn't like he'd tried it again after the first time. Sure he schmoozed for the camera, but so did everyone else in this industry. The impromptu acting session which had made her want to punch things for two days straight wouldn't have happened if she hadn't gone in on the script. She could've easily said no to lunch.

In every conversation they had, Loki always gave as good as he got, and he always got something. Jane just couldn't resist butting heads with him every time they were in a room together, but whose fault was that? Hers? His? Both of theirs?

And now ten minutes were gone and her coffee was cold. Again.

"Oh my God," Jane rubbed her temples. "Stop doing this to yourself."

On the overhead TV, the random sportsball game had gone to commercial break. In between diaper commercials and a trailer for the next Liam Neeson thriller was a talk show promo.

'Tonight on Christine, we'll have an exclusive first look at the set of Bridgemaker: The Jane Foster, and a chat with director Kevin Branson and lead actress Bethany Shortman. Tune in tonight at 8:30, 7:30 central.'

Jane was up so fast, she nearly knocked her chair over. Dropping a few bucks on the table, she left the cafe as slowly and casually as her harried mental state would allow. Outside, her phone rang again. It was Mr. Branson. Jane considered taking it but decided against it. She wasn't ready to deal with this yet.

A 'new voicemail' alert chimed and Jane ignored it. She checked her messages, but Darcy had been dark since yesterday evening. It would've been nice to blame Loki for her assistant's torrid love affair with his bodyguard, but the fact was, she'd been eyeing him for days. It was bound to happen with or without Loki's help. Not that she couldn't still grumble about it on the way back to her hotel.

There wasn't much to do today other than prepare for the days to come. All attempts at giving herself a break came to nothing, so it was funny that somehow, she'd managed not to fill that one little box on her calendar. Sitting on her bed, staring out the window at a grey skyline, she thought about taking a nap or watching some TV. Maybe she'd catch up on one of her shows or try to read some more. She was starting to think a gritty mystery wasn't what she needed right now. Maybe something lighter, cheerier. Like a romance novel.

Searching her bookshelf and her tablet kept her busy for a time until she realized she'd already read everything she had. The books she might want to re-read had all been re-read. According to Google, the nearest library was ten miles away and the nearest bookstore twenty miles.

Someone up there really hated her.

Surrendering to the inevitable, Jane went into her contacts and called Loki.

He picked up on the second ring.

"Jane! To what do I owe this pleasure?"

She resisted the urge to grimace. He wasn't patronizing, this was just how he talked. "Uh… good morning. Afternoon. I was just… wanting to see how you're doing?"

"Just fine since yesterday, thank you."

Yesterday, they filmed the big bar scene where college-aged Jane revealed her theory and intentions to a group of skeptical classmates. Like a good satellite love interest, Donald Blake was the only one who didn't question a single thing she said. It was another piece of the script she'd been ready to fight over. What self-respecting scientist wouldn't go over a colleague's theory with a fine-toothed comb? Didn't this guy want her to succeed?

"Right, you were good," Jane mumbled. "Really good."

"Except for the part where Mr. Blake is flatter than a pancake, correct?"

Jane laughed. By the time she realized she was doing it, she didn't want to stop. "Something like that."

"I will have a word with Mr. Branson about it."

"I'd appreciate that." Jane took a deep breath. "Anyway, I really called because I was wondering…"

"Yes?" he asked when she hesitated for too long.

Another breath. Why was this so hard? It was hard for him, too. It had to be. "I was thinking maybe we should spend some more time together."

Total silence on the other end. Jane couldn't even hear background noise. Either he was somewhere very quiet or he'd hung up on her. She checked the screen, but the call was still connected. That meant he was thinking. Or maybe he was trying not to laugh.

"You want to spend time with me," he said.

Jane closed her eyes. Did he have to say it like that? "Yeah."

"Why?"

"Why not?" She said before shaking her head. "What I mean is, since you don't have a lot to work with other than the script, maybe it would help if we had another lunch together. Or meet up for coffee. Just so we can talk. You can ask me more questions if you like."

"Very well. I am free today."

Jane blinked. He agreed that fast? "Uh…"

"Are you not?"

"No, I am. I can meet you today." Jane cleared her throat and sat up straighter, wondering where she'd left her shoes. "I might need a little time to get ready."

"I can meet you at the Sunrise Cafe at one. Does that suit you?"

One o'clock was thirty minutes away. Somehow, in that time, she had to get herself together enough to not look like a disgusting slob next to an A-list actor. This had been so much easier three days ago when she didn't care about impressing him.

"Sounds good," she said, running her fingers through her hair and wincing when she caught a knot. "I'll uh… get ready to go."

"Lovely," he said. "And Jane? Do wear those black jeans of yours. They do wonders for your hips."

Jane's jaw loosened, not falling completely. She could've said something, but her mind had been erased. At some point, he said goodbye. A sound came out of her mouth that he interpreted in kind. For a long time, she listened to dead air. It was quarter to one by the time she got herself into gear and took a hairbrush to the garbage dump that was her hair.

He had actually said that. It wasn't just her imagination. Any time she considered the possibility that he might have misspoken, she wanted to smack herself. The only surprise was that he hadn't been more flirtatious.

Was it possible to have social anxiety and be a cheeky asshole at the same time? She was going to be asking herself that question for days now.

Jane almost stopped and went home three times on the way to Sunrise Cafe. It was only a few blocks away from the hotel, so she decided to walk. Heels were a terrible idea and she always felt like her ankles were made of plywood in them anyway. Her sturdy, yet relatively clean and only a few years out of date flats would have to do. Paired with a navy blue jacket, she almost felt something akin to classy. It was better than wearing plaid at any rate.

Still, it took mountains of effort to keep her feet moving. Arranging this… encounter was bound to be a bad idea. She could think of a dozen ways it could go wrong and only a few ways it wouldn't. By the time the curvy script spelling out 'Sunrise' appeared at the end of the street, she was lost in a dense crowd of pedestrians, pulling her in one direction. She had to walk faster to keep up with the foot traffic.

Outdoor seating was full and Jane couldn't find Loki among the patrons. She wondered if she'd gotten there first, but Loki didn't seem like the 'fashionably late' type. He also could have blown her off to go hang out with supermodels or something, but she wouldn't go down that rabbit hole just yet.

Inside was just as packed as out. A group of seven was on their way out as Jane walked in. She glued herself to the door frame, sucking in her minuscule gut to keep from hitting them. Not a single one spared her a glance as they talked to each other or on their phones. When they were gone she approached the hostess stand.

"Hi, I'm-"

"Jane Foster?" the barista asked.

Jane was taken aback. Was she a fan? "Er- yes, I am."

With a sly smile, she pointed one elegant finger. "He's right there."

At a table in the corner magically separated from the rest, Loki sipped a cup of tea and watched the cars go by out the window. He suddenly looked up, making Jane jump. Smiling, he waved her over. Jane's chest ached entirely due to exhaustion from the long walk and nothing else.

"Good afternoon," Loki said as she sat down. "Good to see I haven't been stood up again."

"You've been stood up?" Jane asked.

"You find that hard to believe?"

"Honestly yeah, I do."

Loki hummed, running his finger over the rim of his mug. "I see. Thank you for the compliment."

The waitress came by and Loki ordered a soup and sandwich combo. Jane ordered the same and then they were alone.

"So…" she said.

Loki steepled his fingers. He was wearing yet another suit and looked like he was auditioning for the next James Bond movie. "So," he repeated.

'Dammit, I knew I should've rehearsed something.' Jane swallowed and pretended she was looking at a mirror and not his face. "I… wanted to apologize for what I said the other day. I didn't mean to dredge up bad memories."

He hummed again. Slower, more deliberate. Sipping his tea, he took his time answering like he knew her anxiety was rising and wanted to milk it just a little longer. "I take it you looked me up?"

Jane nodded, suddenly feeling like she'd intruded on something private. "Yeah, I did. I saw the whole… you know."

"I do know," he said.

"So… yeah, I'm sorry about that. I wouldn't have said anything if I'd known."

"Well, I don't believe that," he said while unfolding a napkin.

Jane stared at him. "What?"

He leaned in, enunciating every word. "I do not believe you. You are a scientist. It's in your nature to be curious, especially about things you don't understand. Whether you choose to ask a question or not doesn't change the fact of its existence. Wouldn't you agree?"

The way he smiled, he was obviously trying to get under her skin. For what purpose, she didn't know. She was starting to think analyzing Loki's words and actions were just fighting a losing battle. Everything he did, no matter how irritating or contradictory to what she thought she knew of him, was all just because it was amusing to him. Maybe that was the one real truth she'd been looking for.

"I suppose so," she said after a minute. "I just figure it's a personal matter and none of my business, so I shouldn't ask."

"If you did, I might answer," he said.

"Maybe, but I shouldn't assume."

"Well, if no one made an assumption every so often, we'd never make any progress."

Jane closed her eyes, trying to make sense of whatever direction this conversation was going in. "Are you saying you want to talk about this?"

"I'm saying that as a woman of science, it is your duty to pursue all possible leads, whether or not you find any answers."

He sat back, cool smile firmly in place. Their food hadn't arrived yet, and Jane realized she forgot to order a drink. She could go get one, try to work out whatever this meeting was turning into. To think this had been her idea. She willingly walked into this bizarre reverse interrogation thinking she'd get something out of it. It was the worst experiment she had ever undertaken, but he was right about one thing.

"Fine. How did you feel when you found out?"

Loki's smile sharpened. "I'd prefer not to say. It is rather personal."

It might've been easier to take if he laughed with his voice instead of his eyes. That look drove her mad with rage and frustration and a few other emotions she couldn't quite comprehend. All of them wanted her to grab him by the collar and do… something to him.

Jane huffed. "I didn't ask you here to play games."

"Oh?" Loki asked. "Then you didn't want to continue our prior discussion? What a shame. I was having such fun before we were interrupted."

"I just want you to tell me what you need to play this role," she said, crossing her arms. "Anything about my research, my daily habits. Whatever you want to know, I will tell you."

"Is that so?"

"Within reason."

He pouted, but she sensed it wasn't serious. That was the only reason she didn't get up and leave.

"Then we shall continue," he said, his face brightening. "Wonderful. Why don't you go first? Ask me anything you'd like."

The waitress arrived with their food, delaying their game of twenty questions as Jane ordered a small latte and took a bite of her roast beef sandwich. Loki took several, delicate spoonfuls of soup. They'd both gotten French onion and it smelled divine. Jane nibbled on the bread before sitting up straight.

"If you really want to do this," she began. "Then… why did you star in that tarantula movie?"

In all the time she'd known him, he'd never looked more pleased. If Jane didn't know any better, she'd think he was waiting for her to say that.

"Would you really call it starring?" He took another bite of soup. "You do know what role I played."

"You were the villain or something right?"

"I portrayed Dr. Ernst Arachna, the megalomaniacal scientist who created the tarantsunami to further my plans for world domination. At least until they retconned it in movie six to make them aliens."

"That must have been annoying."

"Not as much as you might think. I was already a retcon. The spiders used to be mutated sewer creatures."

"So why were you in it?"

Loki pursed his lips. "For fun, I suppose. Before that, I featured in a historical drama as a rakish duke and it was honestly rather dull. For my next role, I wanted something a bit more exciting. You should have seen my agent's face when I told him to accept the offer."

"Did he want you to star in another period drama?"

"He had a list a mile long."

Jane snorted, pausing to eat some of her soup before it got too cold. "Why did you want to star in Bridgemaker?" she asked.

"Ah ah ah," Loki said, wagging a finger at her. "It's my turn to ask a question."

Jane furrowed her brow. "You really want to do that again?"

"Very much so."

His voice made her skin feel tight. Someone must have turned the heat up in here. "Fine, go ahead."

Loki appraised her, bringing one long finger to his chin. "Well…"

'Please nothing dirty. Please nothing dirty. Please nothing dirty.'

"What do you prefer on your pizza?"

Jane froze, processing the question with the speed and reliability of a dial-up connection. "Uh- sausage and peppers."

"Lovely. Now then, to your question." He sat back like he couldn't see the look on her face at all. "I chose to star in this movie because your story is fascinating and I respect everything you've done to advance our understanding of the universe. I believe this is a story that needs to be told, so how could I not be involved?"

As he spoke, Jane nodded along. She felt like an interviewer acting out the role of an engaged participant. Any reporter not completely infatuated with him always acted the same way. Now she knew why.

"Is that all?" she asked.

He raised an eyebrow. "Do I need more?"

"It's just that's the answer you always give."

"I fail to see your point."

"It just doesn't sound real. I already know you're contractually obligated to promote the movie, but I'm not holding a microphone in your face."

"You think I'm lying."

"No, I don't think you're lying, I think you're playing softball." Jane leaned in, maintaining eye contact at all costs. "You want me to be a scientist? That's my theory."

It was impossible to tell what Loki was thinking. All Jane knew was that she'd never seen a face like this in interviews. There was a grace to him like he had all the answers, and for a split second that was absent. Perhaps Jane was finally seeing through the mask.

Even so, his creeping grin didn't surprise her. Nor was she unnerved, though some primal part of her psyche calmly suggested she run. Returning to her soup, she waited for him to gather his thoughts and give her another brusque answer.

"I have one more question for you," he said.

Jane nodded with a mouth full of onion. "Go ahead."

"What is a normal day for you?" He drank his coffee, lips slightly puckered. "Would you show me?"

'That was two questions,' the smartass in her wanted to say. He probably wouldn't have minded if she had, but that would just lead them on another tangent. The cafe was getting busier, the myriad of voices rising to a deafening roar. The waitress came by with their checks, telling them there was no rush though her frenetic pace and lack of a smile said differently.

Jane dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the table and pushed out her chair. "It's not very interesting."

"Let me be the judge of that." He was already up and buttoning his coat. There was a fifty-dollar bill on his side. Show off.

"All right," Jane said, in a voice that betrayed nothing, especially not the growing concern of just what exactly she was getting herself into. "Let's get going."

Jane checked her email. There were a few that needed answering right away. She left those in the inbox. Three of them were a spam that slipped through the cracks. She marked them as such and they vanished. Two clothing stores she'd forgotten she was subscribed to had sales going on all weekend. One of these days, she'd get around to unsubscribing. Today, she just deleted them.

When everything had been sorted, she got to work on those replies. The first was from one of her colleagues back at Culver who had a few questions about a comet he'd been tracking. As Jane studied the attached photos, Loki rolled his chair an inch forward. A moment later, he rolled it an inch back. He took a break and then rolled it forward, then back. Then forward, then back.

"Please stop that," Jane said, eyes flicking to him. "It's very distracting."

"Have you considered investing in quieter chairs?"

Right, because she had so much money lying around for luxuries.

Well, she kind of did these days, but whatever.

"I told you this would be boring."

"I'm not bored," Loki said. Another inch forward.

"Your chair says different."

"A disinclination to sit still in an uncomfortable position for an extended period of time is not the same thing as boredom."

"So stand up."

"Well, I don't feel like doing that either."

Jane didn't look at him again. Not even to glare. If she did, she'd see his smug, smirking face like he'd just set a trap and she walked straight into it. After sending all three emails, there was one more that had just arrived. It was from Kirby's Florist confirming this month's order of a dozen pink roses to St. John's Cemetery.

Her heart clenched. Was it that time of the month already? Sending back a quick affirmative, Jane closed her laptop and took a deep breath. Of course, Loki noticed immediately.

"Trouble?" he asked.

"No," Jane said. "Just some business I had to take care of."

"You order flowers often?"

"Yeah, for Erik." She bowed her head. "I send flowers to his grave once a month. It's the least I can do after all he did for me."

Loki nodded. His mouth remained closed and Jane believed with far more conviction than she ever expected that he had nothing smart to say about it. "I attended a seminar he conducted during my undergrad. He was a brilliant man. You were close to him, weren't you?"

"He was my father's best friend," Jane explained. "The two of them were like brothers. When my father died, he took me under his wing. Taught me everything he knew and then some. He used to say he was jealous. He and my dad would argue for hours about a problem that only took me a few minutes to work out. He was exaggerating of course, but it did make me feel special."

"He might have meant it," said Loki.

Jane laughed. "I was ten. He definitely did not mean it."

"Well, when you put it like that…" His phone buzzed and he checked it with a grimace. As he typed, Jane gawked at him.

"So now you're disagreeing with him?"

"Technically, I never agreed, to begin with," he replied. "Perhaps you shouldn't be so presumptive."

Though that should have made her angry, it was hard to scowl with a smile on her face. Her muscles were tense, stuck in one shape until she forced herself to relax. While she waited, she glanced at Loki's screen, not intending to snoop but unable to help herself. A chat conversation involving walls of texts on one side and two to three-word responses on the other bore a name familiar to her in potentially the worst possible way.

"Thor," she muttered to herself, not realizing until it was too late that she'd spoken out loud.

"He messages often," Loki said, closing out the chat. "Giving me updates about his life as if that's the most important part of my day."

"Maybe he wants to hear about your day."

"All he has to do is read the tabloids for that."

Jane sucked on her lips, preventing any more words from coming out. Despite his earlier teasing, this was clearly a sensitive subject for him. She had to tread carefully.

"What does he talk about?" she asked.

"His wife is pregnant," Loki said, checking his nails for dirt. "It's their first child. He keeps me up to date as I am to be the godfather."

"That's really sweet," Jane said.

"So says my mother." Loki dropped his hands into his lap once he was satisfied they were clean. "I can't help but suspect it wasn't her suggestion."

"Well, even if it was, Thor and his wife wouldn't have taken it if they didn't really want you."

"I suppose…"

Jane hesitated a moment before speaking again. "Do you want to be the godfather?"

He had turned away from her, eyes distant like life had disappeared from them. It left Jane at a crossroads, unsure if she should speak again or back away slowly. An alarm went off on her phone, the one reminding her to clean her telescope optics. She silenced it- it could wait until later- but the sound drove Loki to his feet.

"We've been sitting here too long," he said, rolling his shoulders. "My bones are aching."

'Oh, now you want to stand,' Jane thought. "Okay, what do you want to do? Because aside from some housekeeping, I've got nothing else planned beyond watching Netflix."

On the table, Loki's phone vibrated. A new message alert popped up over a soothing nature stock image. Loki read it silently, and Jane wondered for a moment if it wasn't Thor again. Then Loki chuckled.

"How about a double date?"

The club was packed wall to wall. Their table near the balcony was barely big enough for four. That was why Darcy had no problem forgoing chairs entirely and sitting in Brock Rumlow's lap. She had even less of a problem cleaning his tonsils out with her tongue. If anyone noticed the borderline fornication happening two tables away, they were too drunk, stoned, or both to care.

Jane stared at the dance floor, turning her head so far away from the couple that her neck was close to snapping. Every time it looked like they were going to give it a rest, they went in harder. Darcy's hand was up Rumlow's shirt while he kneaded her left breast. They were moaning like animals. Jane covered her face with her hand, but they still managed to poke into her peripheral.

The only saving grace was that Loki was just as disturbed as she was.

"You two… certainly have become well acquainted," he remarked, playing with a napkin. "And in such a short time as well."

"Hey, when you know, you know," Rumlow said.

"I know I want you in a broom closet," Darcy growled, attacking his neck.

"Easy, babe, we'll have plenty of time for that later," Rumlow gently pushed her back into her chair. "Right now, I think we've traumatized them enough."

Darcy whined like a baby, burying her flushed face in his hair. She pouted over the music until their next round of drinks arrived. Then she downed her third pina colada.

"Jane, would you fuck him already?" she jabbed a finger at Loki. "I can't be the only non-virgin here."

"Ignore her, she always gets like this." Jane knocked her hand away and it fell limp over Darcy's head.

"I find her quite amusing," Loki said. "And she does make an excellent point."

"I'm not a virgin," Jane snapped. That was not the most important part of that statement, but her last Margherita was just starting to hit her.

This was the classiest club in Canada, which was not a sentence Jane ever thought she'd say. Actors and directors alike frequented this location during their downtime. It boasted three floors, a full bar and dance floor, state-of-the-art sound equipment and classy modern decor themed around Ancient Rome. White pillars held the ceiling in place and made it feel bigger than it was. Like stepping into a cave. If all Jane could hear was her own voice, she was pretty sure it would echo.

It lived up to its reputation as far as she could tell. The drinks were good, she was pretty sure she'd spotted Ewan McGregor stepping outside to take a call, and everyone around her was having the time of their lives. Hell, she was starting to enjoy herself a little.

"What do you drink?" Jane asked.

Loki looked at her. "Are we still playing that game?"

"34-25-34," Jane said with a soft hiccup, "just in case you were going to ask."

"Thank you for saving me the trouble, " he said impassively and did indeed look her up and down as he spoke. "I drink mead more than anything else but I fancy a gin and tonic every so often."

"Mead. Sounds medieval." She gulped down another Margherita.

"It's an acquired taste but I do enjoy it."

"Bet you've acquired a lot of tastes, " she laughed like it was a joke. "Being so well-traveled and all."

"And I bet you don't drink very often, do you?"

Jane laughed again. He was suddenly hilarious. "You really are smart."

"And you really need a break." His fingers brushed the neck of her glass like he was going to take it from her.

Jane snatched it back. "Who are you, my dad?"

"You tell him, Jane!" Darcy shouted, pumping a fist in the air.

A new song played that was identical to the old one. Jane only recognized it as something new due to the temporary drop in volume. The dance beat mixed with the crowd, energizing them even through a haze of alcohol. Someone whooped, leading to a wave of scattered cheers. Eventually, it reached their table, and Darcy let out a howl of delight before stumbling into Rumlow.

"I love dancing!" she shouted.

"Me too!" said Rumlow.

"Do you like dancing?" Loki asked Jane. He spoke in complete sentences, enunciating every word perfectly. Almost like those three cocktails had never happened.

Bastard.

"It's growing on me," Jane said after another drink. She scowled at him. "Why are you sober?"

"I'm not."

"You look it."

"I hold my liquor well." Just to drive the point home, he finished his drink with barely a grimace and held out a hand.

Jane was right the first time. He was a stupid face haver. A stupid, handsome face haver. With stupid pretty eyes and a stupid sexy smile.

Well, two could play at that game. She stood, wondering for a moment why her legs had been replaced by popsicle sticks. After gaining her balance, she took his stupid strong hand and let him march her through the crowd with his stupid long gait. He was not so tall or broad that he could part the crowd with a look, but Jane knocked into far fewer people than she expected as they started down the stairs.

It was not as crowded on the dance floor as she'd feared. Darcy and Rumlow had cleared out a few stragglers with their aggressive dance moves that looked more like some kind of war dance than anything that went with the music. To Jane's surprise, nobody looked in Loki's direction. Not even the gaggle of tipsy college-aged girls who most assuredly would know exactly who he was. Maybe there was some truth behind the whole Marilyn Monroe thing. Which wouldn't make sense because he exuded the same marginally earned and possibly exaggerated confidence he always had since the day they met.

And he still looked freaking sober. Sexy jerk.

"Shall we?" he asked, taking her hand.

"I don't know this song," Jane said, followed by a hiccup.

"Neither do I."

He started moving- or was that the ground?- with the music. It was a fast, poppy tune with a shrill female singer and an over-enthusiastic drum beat. Whatever it was, it had lyrics. Something something love. Something something my body. Something somethings words Jane should be able to decipher, but the booze wouldn't allow it.

Throwing that aside she waited for what she assumed to be the chorus and spun Loki around. She laughed as he gasped and stopped moving mid-turn. Jane tried to pull him, but he wouldn't budge. All her effort amounted to nothing more than aching arms.

"Stop being so ridiculously strong," she sniped.

"I don't think it works like that," Loki said. "What exactly are you doing?"

"Gee, I don't know. Maybe dancing?" Jane tried to spin him again, the soles of her shoes squeaking on the glass floor. "What are you doing, the Statue of David?"

"Thank you for the compliment," he smiled. Jane got the sense he'd taken that the wrong way, but her brain was too fuzzy to care.

"You said we should dance. Now you're saying don't dance." Jane slapped her forehead a little too hard. "Make up your mind, pal!"

"I have a striking suspicion you won't be happy with me tomorrow," he said.

"Nah, I'll just be hungover." The song changed to something else she didn't know, and she pulled his arm as hard as she could. "Come on, dance already!"

This time, he acquiesced. She tried to spin them again, not knowing any other dance moves beyond the first half of the macarena and YMCA. Fortunately, Loki was prepared. He took the lead and they flew across the dance floor, undisturbed by other dancers. Rumlow and Darcy had withdrawn to a dark corner where they pawed at each other's clothes and ate each other's faces.

Jane tried to roll her eyes at them, but that just made her dizzy. Good thing Loki was holding her steady. He had her pressed tight against his body. If he wasn't wearing a shirt, she could lick his chest. His muscles were awesome. Understated, yet defined. She could feel every dip and crevice as she ran her hand over his stomach. That was a hell of a six-pack right there. Hopefully, he didn't notice her sneaking into the gaps between his shirt buttons. She was doing her best to be discreet.

"I see you're enjoying yourself," he said.

Dammit. Her cover was blown.

"Meh, it's okay." She slipped and fell against him, scraping her nails on his abs which probably didn't hurt him at all since he was made of granite. "Would you believe I've never done this before?"

"If you mean dancing while drunk with a man you barely know," He smiled at her poor attempt at scowling, "then yes, I would. It fits perfectly with your character archetype."

Jane hiccuped again. "My archy-what?"

He kept smiling. Jerk. "In a romantic comedy, you would play the role of a straight-laced career woman who dedicates herself almost entirely to her job, usually to the detriment of all else in her life. Her story involves learning to step outside her comfort zone and find new aspects of life to enjoy. Often with the help of a handsome male love interest."

"Are you serious?"

"If you think I'm not, you clearly haven't been to the movies lately."

He was absolutely serious and that was the funniest thing Jane had ever seen. So funny, in fact, that she didn't pull away or snap at him in indignant rage or anything the feminist in her thought she should do. Being compared to a cheap movie stereotype was not a compliment no matter how he tried to spin it. Assuming it actually was a compliment. It hadn't sounded like an insult. Maybe it was just an objective observation.

Whatever the case, she was laughing. Laughing and hiccuping and clinging to him because this song was a real grower. She might even look it up later.

"Is this the part where she starts loosening up?" she asked.

"It can be if you so wish," he said.

"This… this doesn't mean you're the love interest, you know."

"Then I shall settle for the role of romantic false lead and enjoy your company for a single night."

This was so incredibly ridiculous. Jane looked around for cameras, convinced this was all some reality prank show or a scene from a real romantic comedy. There was one guy on his phone who appeared to be recording something. When Jane locked eyes with him, he stuffed the phone in his pocket and rushed out the door.

Aside from that, no one was watching. They were all alone in their own little bubble, moving to a beat she could barely keep up with. Dropping all pretense of indignation or sobriety, Jane sunk into his arms and allowed him to carry her along. Her feet got the message her brain didn't, matching his speed and rhythm perfectly after only a few missteps.

"You're very good," she slurred as he dipped her.

"You are very drunk," he replied, shying away from her face.

"But it makes me a good dancer, right?"

"Passable."

"You're a jerk."

"So I've heard."

He changed tactics. Instead of spinning, they glided in a way that didn't match the music. She didn't know if they were waltzing or sashaying or something completely different. The brief few months she spent suffering through ballet lessons had not prepared her for this. She had to go by her instincts, what few unsharpened ones she had.

At the very least, she could keep up. They moved together, avoiding stepping on each other's feet and almost bumping into another couple. Jane laughed when they glared at her. She could honestly say she'd never had this much fun in her entire life. When she tried, it came out as a jumble of meaningless words, but Loki seemed to get the message.

"This is the part where we come in close," he said.

Even as he said it, he didn't pull her in. If anything, there was more distance between them. Which meant he was making fun of her again. What a stupid handsome ab-having asshole. He was lucky she was starting to like him.

"When do we kiss?" She asked. That probably wasn't the right question, but it was the only one she could think of.

Loki raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to kiss?"

"I didn't say that," Jane replied, even though his lips really did look nice. "Just said this is when we kiss, right? In the movies. They always kiss now."

"You're right, they do," Loki nodded. His hands moved up her arms. God, they were so nice. "You know what that makes it?"

"Romantic?"

"Cliche," he spun her again and when Jane came back in, she landed smack on his chest. "It is perhaps the second most predictable turn this story could take."

"After what?" She giggled. "My intern and your bodyguard hooking up?"

"That is closer to five or six."

"Okay." Jane got up on her tiptoes. "I will accept your expert wisdom."

'This is a bad idea,' said some long-forgotten part of her brain that was somehow still sober.

Honestly, why did she listen to that voice so often? All it did was tell her to be boring.

Maybe this was why the workaholic character needed to lighten up.

As the music blared, Jane looked deep into Loki's bright blue eyes. They were hypnotic and beautiful in a way she was too dazed to describe. All she knew was that she wanted to stare at them forever and the stars couldn't compare. She held his shoulders for leverage, closing in on his lips. He didn't resist, didn't push her away as their breath mingled and the dramatic film score in her head reached a heart-pounding climax…

And then the screen went black and the movie was over.

Loki caught Jane as she fainted, her hair cascading down over her shoulders, nearing touching the floor. He gathered her up; she was lighter than a feather. When did she eat? Someone had to get to feeding her regularly.

He carried her off the dance floor, past the bar, and back to their table. Rumlow and Jane's assistant stumbled over in the opposite direction, laughing at nothing. Their clothes were rumpled and Darcy Lewis's glasses were askew. She fixed them as her eyes adjusted to the sight of Loki laying Jane out across two chairs.

"Whoa, what happened?" she asked, which came out more like 'whowahaaaned'.

"Dr. Foster needs her rest," Loki explained as he moved her into a more comfortable position. "My driver will take you both home if it suits you."

"Beats taking a cab," Darcy most likely said. "Long as I get a souvenir."

She puckered her lips at Rumlow who eagerly accepted the invitation. Loki sighed and took out his phone, sending his driver a message to bring the car around. It would be some time before the amorous couple tired themselves out, so Loki browsed the internet aimlessly and watched the minutes tick by.

The clock was covered momentarily by a text alert. Before he banished it, he caught the first few words.

'Loki, Mother is making lutefisk tomorrow-'

He sighed and put the phone away. Thor just wouldn't give up. The rest of the message was undoubtedly more about Sif's condition and the baby. Mother's latest projects and father's retirement. All things Loki had spent years trying to convince himself he didn't care about. It grew harder every day, especially now with the new voice of his conscience rolling between his ears.

'Do you want to be the godfather?'

Loki shook the question away and entertained himself with the thought of just how angry poor Jane was going to be tomorrow morning.

Jane was angry.

Pressing a cold compress to her head, she crumpled on the couch in her suite's living room. The cushions were soft, but not too soft. She had a pillow from her bed and a blanket within arm's reach in case she got cold. That would've been the least of her problems, but she didn't think she could get up again if she was missing something.

Her phone hadn't rung all morning. There were no new text messages. Mr. Branson either knew about what happened yesterday or he was just taking a break from bothering her. She prayed with whatever strength she could muster that it was the latter. Since Darcy hadn't rushed over in hysterics with TMZ on her phone, she assumed they hadn't made the front page today.

Unless Darcy was still too busy screwing Loki's bodyguard to check.

No, she couldn't think like that. It would only drive her insane. She couldn't check herself either. Any light in her eyes would be like daggers rammed into her skull.

"Why did I do that?" She moaned as the ice numbed the pain for a few precious seconds. "Why. Why. Why. Why."

She'd almost kissed him.

She'd almost fucking kissed a fucking a-list actor she hadn't even liked two days ago.

Bad enough that she'd gotten roped into yet another heart to heart.

The worst part was remembering it all with perfect clarity. Alcohol had never dulled her senses the way it did her old college buddies. It was a blessing and a curse, helping her keep relative control of herself while inebriated but running the risk of some horrifyingly embarrassing moment getting forever burned into her memory.

Like trying to make out with an actor.

There were several truckloads to unpack here, but at the moment, Jane would've rather slept the headache and possibly the whole rest of her life off.

Several hours after closing her eyes, she awoke to a slightly darker room and a bunch of bananas on a plate next to her. She grabbed one and wolfed it down. The headache was mostly gone and she needed to put something in her stomach.

Despite the presence of fruit, Darcy was nowhere to be found. Most likely she'd come home for a change of clothes and then headed out again after leaving her a snack. Jane checked her phone for any messages. There were several, all of them from Mr. Branson.

'Hey Jane, sorry to bother you again, but I really need you to look at this script. I'm meeting with the producer tonight at five if you want to come down. If not, please just okay the changes.'

It was 4:45. That wasn't happening.

Sighing, Jane flopped back down on the couch and chugged an entire water bottle before clicking on the link. Her plan was simple: read the new pages, write a few surface-level notes, then go watch TV until all the pain was gone and she no longer felt the sting of humiliation from making kissy faces at Loki.

The first scene was normal. Just one of Jane and Donald's pointless interactions at a bar. They were talking about childhood toys of all things. Not even a mention of chaos theory. Scrolling down, she reached the next scene. As her eyes scanned the page, the agony that had dug its way into her gut was uprooted. It gradually faded with each new line, replaced first by total confusion, then dawning horror, followed by burning rage.

"What. The. Fuck."

Jane grabbed her coat and her car keys and was out the door in seconds.

Chapter Text

Jane parked on the line between two parking spaces. Someone probably shouted at her as she roared around the corner, tires screaming. She'd narrowly avoided causing two accidents and running over countless pedestrians along the way. If she came back in an hour to find her windshield blanketed in tickets, that was fine. She wasn't hurting for cash and some things were just more important.

The receptionist got two words out before Jane stormed past. Something about Mr. Branson being busy and you can't go in there without an appointment. Yeah, screw that. He was about to be busier than he ever could've imagined.

The path was easy to follow. Up one flight of stairs, one left, one right, two doors down on the left. Through a fog of anger, Jane managed to make it the whole way without getting lost or running into anything. There was no one in the halls save for a janitor too busy bopping his head to music to care when she swerved around the 'Wet Floor' sign and almost slipped. Her boots protected her from harm and carried her all the way to the door bearing Kevin Branson's name.

She didn't bother knocking. It was already unlocked. Mr. Branson was at his desk with a messy stack of papers. The red pen in his hand had been liberally used. Entire sections were crossed out. Notes in the margins were an absolute mess of malformed ideas and concepts. On the other side of the desk was a man so average, Jane could've seen twenty of him on the street and never batted an eye. Nothing about him was worth committing to memory, save for the almost bored look he shot at her like irate women interrupting his meetings was just a normal part of his day.

Both men paused. Mr. Branson's mouth closed slowly. Jane had caught the tail end of a sentence about budget issues. He swallowed the rest of his speech, pushing his chair back like he was going to stand. Instead, he stretched awkwardly and gave her an attempted smile.

"Jane," he squeaked. "I'm glad you could make it. We were just talking about-"

Jane snatched the script pages off his desk. "What is this?"

The producer raised an eyebrow. Mr. Branson coughed again. "Well… yes, I know you must have a lot of questions and I'm happy to answer them-"

"So you're combining characters, huh?" She rifled through the pages until she found the right scene. "Jane walks into class and takes a seat in the front row. Professor Erik Selvig enters. He sees Jane and approaches her, smiling. 'We have assigned seats in this class.' He points at the back row." Jane flipped to a new page, dragging her finger along the line of text. "Dr. Selvig is handing out grades. 'Another A, Ms. Foster. I'm glad to see the gentlemen are continuing to help you.'" Another page. "'You need to consider that you're not cut out for a career in this field. It's too strenuous for someone like you.' WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?"

As Mr. Branson cowered, the producer calmly folded his arms. "You requested that we emphasize your struggles as a woman in STEM."

"I did not tell you to paste my asshole professor's personality onto my mentor!"

"Professor Falk refused to cooperate with the project as he considered your account of him to be slanderous."

"So instead you slander Erik?" Jane threw the papers to the ground. "That man was like a father to me!"

"His name is more recognizable," Mr. Branson mumbled.

The producer nodded. "Dr. Selvig was a pioneer of astrophysics. I'm sure the audience will understand that we're just taking some artistic license in order to tell your story."

"Oh sure, that's great," Jane snapped. "You're dragging his name through the mud for me, huh? You know, I could've complained a lot more about that romantic subplot if I wanted to."

"You already did," the producer said, checking his nails.

"I let that one slide. I accepted it. I do not accept this. I will never accept you treating Erik like this!"

His fingers thoroughly inspected and his patience waning, the producer stood. Like most men, he was significantly taller than Jane and had no shame in making it known. Standing directly over her, looking down over his nose, he looked so goddamn bored. "Doctor, you understand that Mr. Branson involves you in the creative process as a courtesy. In reality, you do not have final say over what goes into this movie."

"It's my movie."

"It's your story," the producer replied. "The movie is owned by the production company. We will do as we see fit to make sure this film turns a profit. Now, we have worked extensively with you. We've bent over backward to make you happy. It's time for you to bend a little."

"Not on this," Jane said, standing as tall as she could without getting up on tip-toes. "I will take anything but this. A sex scene, a… car chase. Anything."

"I don't see how that would fit in with the narrative," the producer said.

"But I'm sure Loki would be up for it," Jane retorted, fists balled.

"You know, you should consider yourself grateful Mr. Odinson even agreed to do this movie." His phone buzzed and read over the text, his voice trailing off mid-sentence. "Might actually make some money back with him…"

"What are you talking about?" Jane looked at Mr. Branson, but he was too busy reorganizing the script and studying his shoes. She'd never felt more alone.

"What do you think I'm talking about?" the producer asked.

"It sounds like you're saying Loki is the main draw of this movie."

"Yes, Doctor, that's right." He was so blunt, Jane forgot for a moment to be angry. "I don't know if you realize this, but when we produce movies, we're expecting to get something back for it. Passion projects are cute, but if you want to succeed in this business, you need bankable stars. And no one is more bankable right now than Loki Odinson."

Jane stumbled over her words, watching them scatter in the wind like feathers. There was nothing she could do to stop the producer from walking to the door. His phone rang and he answered it, slipping easily into 'business' mode.

"Yeah, I just got out of a meeting. Be right over." As he reached the door, he pulled the phone away from his ear and covered the receiver. "As I said, Dr. Foster, you should be grateful. Have a good evening."

Long after he was gone, Jane was rooted to the spot. Any attempt at moving stung her heart like a needle. That her legs hadn't collapsed out from under her was a minor miracle, as was the lack of tears. She was too angry to cry. Throwing something against the wall would've been more helpful by far. If only she had the strength to grab something.

In front of her was a wall of photos. Mr. Branson posing at various award shows and live events. Shaking hands with the president of the Academy at the afterparty. Even though he failed to win, the mutual respect was obvious. Only a few empty spaces remained. One of them might've held her own photo one day. A place of great honor.

"So…" Mr. Branson said, breaking the silence. "That didn't go well, but…"

There was no 'but'. He wasn't going to finish that sentence and she didn't know why he bothered to start it.

"You can't be okay with this," Jane said, rounding on him. "There's no way you think this is a good idea."

"Of course, I don't," he said. "Trust me, I tried to talk them out of it, but they insisted."

"So you're just going to take this lying down!" Jane exclaimed.

"My hands are tied, Jane. I already told you. Sometimes, you have to follow the-"

"I don't want to hear about rules!" Jane leaned over the desk. "What happened to you, Kevin? You made amazing movies once. You were a great writer. Now, look at you. You follow the rules and what has that gotten you? A cushy office and a picture with Samuel L. Jackson? Is that really worth your dignity?"

"I have dignity," he said. If he wanted to sound forceful, he had failed. In fact, he'd never sounded weaker.

Jane shook her head. "Not from where I'm standing. From here, it looks like you've given up. You want to be their puppet, go right ahead, but unlike you, I don't sit down and take it."

On that word, she left the office. There was nowhere for her to go but back home, where the floodgates would open as soon as her head hit the pillow. She was going to have an even worse headache tomorrow morning than she had today, but there wasn't much she could do about it.

Jane awoke to her phone ringing. The elephant she was riding on Mars started screeching a rough approximation of wind chimes in her face through its trunk. Then her eyes opened and she was back in her hotel.

At least she'd slept in bed this time. She vaguely recalled driving home in a haze of frustration and impotent rage. Everything after that was a blur. Her throat was parched, and she'd have to choke something down soon if she had any hope of functioning today. There was still so much to do. So many meetings with… people. Talk shows and shit.

Fuck, maybe she'd just cancel all of it. Who even cares?

When the phone kept ringing, Jane considered hurling it against the wall. If it wouldn't be such a hassle to get a new one, she might have. Rolling over in bed, Jane threw the pillows and blankets aside. She reached for the phone and hit 'accept' without looking.

"Not now, Darcy, I'm busy," she grumbled.

"Jane?"

That was not Darcy. Not unless she's turned into a British guy recently. "Loki? I… how'd you get my number?"

"Magic, my dear," he replied airily, "and because you called me first. Numbers are logged, you realize. I should be asking you how you got mine."

"Mr. Branson gave it to me. Should he not have?"

"Oh no, that's quite all right," he replied, leisurely, though his tone soon lost all traces of mirth. "I'm calling because I just read the new script."

Seriously, she should throw the phone. "Yeah. I saw it last night."

"Are you all right?"

Of all the fucking questions. "I'm fantastic. My life story has been reduced to a cheap rom-com spitting on the grave of the man who practically raised me. Everything is awesome."

"You don't have to hide from me," he said.

"Who's hiding?" Jane jumped out of bed. "I feel great. Never better. In fact, I was just thinking I should make a career change. I think I'll become a pole dancer. Wouldn't that make for an interesting movie?"

He didn't speak, and much as Jane wanted to believe he was merely laughing to himself at the ridiculous mental image of her gyrating on a pole, she knew it ran deeper than that. Too deep.

"I thought perhaps there was something I could do," he said.

As kindly as he said it, Jane couldn't help the burn of anger. It gutted her, taking yesterday's pain and expanding it tenfold. There were the tears she'd been waiting for. "You've done enough."

"I'm sorry?" he asked, genuinely taken aback.

Jane didn't care. "You're the star, aren't you? The one everyone is waiting to see. They'll probably put your name at the top of the poster. Big, fat letters so everyone knows this is a Loki movie first and everything else plays second fiddle."

"Come now, Jane. My presence in this film is purely superficial. It's secondary to-"

"No, Loki, it's not." Jane was close to yelling, but she couldn't stop now. It might even make her feel better. "It never has been and don't pretend you don't know that. If you ever had even an ounce of respect for me, you won't finish that sentence."

"What have I done to make you think I don't respect you?"

"Nothing," she answered honestly, rubbing her forehead. "You haven't done anything…"

"And yet you're angry with me," he said.

"I'm angry at everyone. The producers, Mr. Branson, and most of all myself."

"But me?"

She wanted so much to be imagining the hurt in his voice. It could be easily faked. He was an actor of tremendous skill accustomed to slipping into character the way the average person put on clothes. It would be easy to trick her. He had to be tricking her.

Because if he wasn't...

"I don't know," Jane said, slumping over. "I need to be alone for a while."

She hung up and the phone fell to the floor. It bounced once off the carpet and came to rest under the nightstand. Jane stared at it until the screen dimmed to black. Then she rolled on her back and counted the number of cracks in the ceiling, sleep a distant dream of the past.

And she was wrong. She didn't feel better at all.

When lying around feeling sorry for herself became too pathetic, Jane went to the coffee shop to feel sorry for herself there. Sipping a half-caff that managed to be bland and bitter at the same time, she tossed aside her newest book after forcing her eyes across two lines. Something about a mystery or a fantastic journey around the world with friendships made and rewards won yadda yadda yadda. Once she noticed the 'soon to be a major motion picture' stamp on the cover, everything else faded into the background.

It was a slow day. More than a few tables had remained vacant since Jane sat down. The mid-afternoon rush was slowly trickling in and Jane did her best not to watch for any long black hair or suits in the gathering crowd.

Jane looked at the menu for the tenth time and considered her empty yet entirely dead stomach. The hangover was long gone and she couldn't use it as an excuse anymore. Going without food would only make a bad situation that much worse. Still, whenever she thought about ordering a sandwich, that lead weight would drop back into her gut and she'd be rooted to the spot without a prayer of moving.

At least she wasn't facing the TV. The last thing she needed right now was some True Hollywood story about this celebrity cheating on that celebrity with that celebrity. The group of girls giggling over their phones three tables over was bad enough. Jane turned away from them, dulling their voices with her own miserable thoughts.

"Why did I say that?" She asked herself, going over the phone conversation yet again. "Am I losing it?"

He'd been trying to help her.

With a problem he helped cause.

Unless he didn't know the studio's intentions when they hired him.

But how could he not? He's not stupid. He's no executive's puppet.

Unless he really meant it when he said her story was important.

She almost knocked over her coffee dropping her head on the table. Keeping it up was taking too much effort. She had never been more exhausted and she probably should've just stayed home.

'Can't run from your problems forever, Jane,' said that stupid inner voice of hers.

She would have to go back to the studio eventually. Argue her case with the producer and Mr. Branson to get things back on track. Then she'd have to talk to Loki again, apologize and see if he really did want to help. If he really had as much clout as the producer said, maybe he could pull some strings. Make Hollywood's dirty business work for her instead of against her.

The cafe was getting louder, interrupting her train of thought. More people had arrived and that same group of girls was still there, giggling away. Jane had to focus extra hard to drown them out, but a few choice words still leaked through.

"...there in the blue t-shirt. Doesn't that look like her?"

"That one?"

"Holy crap, it does!"

Jane looked up. Six pairs of eyes were on her. All of them immediately dropped when she moved her head, but the giggling hadn't stopped.

"No way that's her."

"She's so not pretty enough for him."

"What would she even be doing here? If I had a guy like Loki, I'd never even get out of bed."

As they spoke, Jane's heart frosted over. Loki's name froze it completely. She turned away, trying her best to look casual. A hand went into her hair because that was the casual thing to do. Nothing to see here. Move along now. Their voices didn't change so she was pretty sure they hadn't noticed.

The waitress walking by with a tray full of sandwiches, however, did. She ran into a chair, causing the plates to side to the edge. As she struggled to right the mess, her eyes never strayed from Jane. She openly gawked until some kind of light went off in her head and she stumbled forward.

Whatever she did after that, Jane didn't know. She was too busy avoiding the stares of a pair of middle-aged women.

"They just come out in public like it's nothing?" One of them said.

"No shame," the second woman shook her head. "No shame at all."

Okay, what the hell was going on? Jane was ready to scream it to the heavens and give everyone in this cafe something to gawk at. She turned away from the women, her eyes landing on the mounted TV. The news was running a story about yet another celebrity couple. Jane read the banner and lost her breath.

'New Love for Loki?'

There they were, in all their drunken, amateurishly filmed glory. Jane was a mess in drab clothes unsuitable for partying. Clinging to Loki like a life raft. Sticking her hands up his shirt like a horny schoolgirl.

But she'd seen it, hadn't she? There was a man on his phone. She hadn't thought anything of it at the time, but now…

Whispers rose over the ambiance. The weight of so many eyes paralyzed her. Maybe she was dreaming. They couldn't all recognize her, could they? She thought she heard her name and jumped. More whispers. Swallowing hard, Jane dropped a few random bills on the table and power-walked to the door.

An entire table of kids was watching her. One of them pointed. Another had their stupid phone out. Jane turned away, hiding her face behind her collar. As she got closer, she could make out the voices on TV.

'...as you can see, the woman is clearly Dr. Jane Foster, renowned astrophysicist and subject of the upcoming biopic, Bridgemaker. Loki has been cast in a starring role and it looks like things are getting heated on set.'

"Shut up," Jane hissed into her shirt. "Shut up. Shut up. It's not like that."

She tripped over the carpet but managed to stay upright. The hostess spoke, but Jane shot past. She couldn't stop here. She couldn't stop at all. She had to get back to her hotel before anyone else saw her.

There was no bus stop. She'd chosen to walk today like an idiot and getting a cab would be too slow. There were people everywhere. The street was clogged with background extras. Jane started down the street, doing her best to look casual. If she could just blend in, she'd be okay. She wasn't dressed for more than a morning run, wore no makeup, and her hair left a lot to be desired. There wasn't a glamorous bone in her body so it should be easy to fly under the radar.

It wasn't like this was huge news, right?

A child holding hands with her mother pointed at Jane. "Mommy, she was on TV!"

Jane sped up. Someone gasped and she ran a few steps. She stopped at the curb and burned a hole in the 'Don't Walk' sign. A woman was reading a magazine with a still of her and Loki's dance plastered on the cover. She glanced over the page and their eyes met. Jane turned left and kept walking.

It was everywhere. Every restaurant and bar had the exact same channel playing. The faster she moved, the more screens and magazines and people glued to their phones she seemed to find. The sidewalk swayed and Jane didn't know if it was just her or if she was about to pitch forward.

Where was her hotel again? She didn't even know what direction she was going. Everyone was staring. Voices carried. A few of them called out to her. A series of clicks made her stop as a man with a camera sprung into view.

"Dr. Foster, right here!" He kept taking pictures even after she pushed past him. "Is it true you slept together?"

"Holy crap, that is her," someone in the crowd said.

Questions spilled over her. The crowd was getting dense, the stares suffocating. More photos were taken. They kept calling her name. She had to get out of here. She had to get off the street. She had to-

A vice grip on her arm pulled her off the pavement into a back alley. Jane was carried behind a dumpster, through a side door, and into a pitch-black room. She'd seen enough bad TV movies to know exactly how this could go. Too bad pepper spray was illegal in Canada.

"Gotten ourselves into trouble, have we?"

The voice didn't calm her. Not when he held her like this and she couldn't see her hand in front of her face. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Rescuing you." A light turned on. They were in an old pantry full of bagged potatoes and vegetables. Loki's face looked jaundiced under the weak yellow light. He let go of Jane only to shut and bolt the door. A large crate finished the job. "We'll wait here for them to leave. It shouldn't be long once they realize the show is over."

"How'd you find me?" Jane asked, eyes narrowing.

"Did I follow you, you mean?" He smiled. "As entertaining as I'm sure that would be, I do have a life outside of you. I happened to be walking by and I spotted you facing the mob. Not fun, is it?"

"If this is what you deal with every day, you might want to switch jobs." Jane straightened her clothes and her hair as best she could. It gave her hands something to do other than slap him. "I don't believe this. One stupid dance and suddenly we're headline news?"

"More like page three of the Sunday Times, but yes. That tends to happen when famously single celebrities are caught up in romantic entanglements."

'How can you be so damn calm about this?' Jane wanted to scream. She didn't only because there was enough bad blood between them. No need to poison the well again.

"So what do we do now?" She walked to the opposite wall and back. "Wait for things to blow over? It can't take that long, can it? This is celebrity gossip we're talking about. Tomorrow, there'll be some big new story and no one will even remember this."

"Oh, I very much doubt that. Entertainment Weekly hasn't even commented yet. We're in for at least another few days. Possibly a week."

"Thanks, Loki. I'm glad I know that now." Jane fell back, knocking a can off the bottom shelf. It rolled at her feet and she kicked it aside. "I take it you've done this before."

"Several times," he replied, checking his phone. "I normally try to choose a more comfortable hiding spot, but time was of the essence. I was forced to improvise… ah, here we are. Right on the front page. Quite a flattering photo of you they chose. I approve."

As he skimmed the article, chuckling to himself at random intervals, Jane summoned whatever strength she had left to walk up to him. "Loki, do you understand what's happening here?"

"You ask that as if to imply that I don't."

"The world thinks we're a couple." Jane threw out her arms. "I'm practically groping you in the middle of a dance club and it's all over the fucking news! Why are you acting like this is nothing?"

"Because it is nothing." Loki returned to his phone, typing out a text or sending an email because there was absolutely no way possible to get under his skin. "Did you not just say yourself that it will blow over?"

"You said it wouldn't!"

"I said it would take time." He finally deigned to look her in the eye. "Even the most sensationalized story in history became old news eventually. There's always something new to report. Some new leads to follow. When they find them, you can return to your normal life in the lab and I can return to mine in the studio."

"Is that your whole life? The studio?"

"Now you're changing the subject."

"Well, it looks like we're going to be here a while, so we'd better find something to talk about." After walking in circles and making herself dizzy, Jane found an empty crate in the corner and dragged it over. It was just sturdy enough to sit on. "How long are you going to keep texting?"

He had the nerve to look affronted. "I don't believe that's any of your business."

"We're having a conversation, and last I checked it was rude to look at your phone during a conversation."

She maintained eye contact with him, refusing to budge an inch. The screen shut off and he didn't turn it back on. As Jane continued to stare, it went back into his pocket. He found his own crate and curled his long legs up in as comfortable a manner as he could manage.

"All right," he said. "What would you like to talk about?"

Finally. Now they could get down to business.

Except… Jane didn't know what to say.

There should've been a million thoughts in her head ready to flood the room. He was right there in front of her. No distractions, no paparazzi, not even a rat. Everything they said was between them and the potatoes, and yet Jane's mind was blank.

She opened her mouth to let something out. "Was that your brother?"

Loki's face didn't change. "Was whom my brother?"

"The one you were texting."

He chuckled. "Still on this. Here I thought your main concern was your botched reputation."

"Well, as you've made abundantly clear, there's not much I can do about that." She ignored the shiver running down her spine at the thought of what Darcy would say. "So who was it?"

"It's still not your business," he said, crossing his arms and pursing his lips and giving every indication of being closed off. "But if you must know, it was my agent. He wants me to call him as soon as I read his text."

"Are you going to?"

"I would, but we're in the middle of a conversation. That would be rude."

That stupid smile. She should've known it wasn't an act. Maybe she was finally meeting the real Loki Odinson. The question now was how far should she push it? "I want to play a game."

Loki stared at her. "A game."

"Our game."

New light dawned in his eyes and his smile turned catlike. "Here I thought we were finished with that."

"So did I," Jane said. "This day is just full of surprises, isn't it?"

Loki leaned back, arms crossed. "I take it you want to go first."

There was no hint of challenge in his tone, but Jane was on edge nonetheless. "Why do you want to make your father mad?"

She waited for him to react. A frown, an angry rebuff, even a twitch of the lip, but his expression never changed. "Come again?"

"You studied astrophysics to make him mad and you became an actor to make him mad. Why?"

Even now, there was nothing. Not even when his eyes briefly strayed to his pocket where the phone just barely stuck out over the rim. It had been silent and motionless since Loki put it away. Jane kept her eyes on him, giving him no room to escape. She tried to look stern but that damn racing heart was getting to her.

"You just won't drop that, will you?" If possible, he became even more relaxed. "What is your hypothesis this time?"

"You haven't answered me yet," Jane said.

"So it would seem," Loki replied, grinding his teeth. "I suppose it's because my father is a humorless old coot who needed the rug swept out from under him. Believe me, it was long overdue."

"Care to elaborate?"

"I would care to reprimand you for asking two questions in a row," Loki grinned as Jane's eyes burned. "But now that you mention it, Odin has always been extremely set in his ways. He is a traditional, old-fashioned man who believes a man can only reach his full potential by starting his own empire."

"Like a business empire?"

"Exactly like that." Loki stretched his neck. "Which makes it all the more ironic that he gave the company he built to Thor instead of letting him create something for himself. That task fell to me, but I decided I'd rather take a different route."

"I'm guessing he didn't like that."

"He was unimpressed."

Jane nodded, more out of impulse than true understanding. "So now… what? You just don't talk to him?"

"I do," he said, almost defensively. "We see each other on holidays and sometimes he joins me and my mother for tea. He is disinclined to blow up my phone with messages as Thor does, so I understand how you might get confused."

"Holidays and tea," Jane muttered, eyes downcast.

"Does this bother you?" Loki asked.

"Just seems… formal," she said. "I mean, I don't know your family. Maybe this is completely normal for you, but Thor at least wants more. Even if you don't want to be his child's godfather, you'll still be his uncle."

"In a manner of speaking," Loki muttered.

"In every way that matters."

It was the first time all day his facade cracked. A clench of his fist was the only evidence, but it was enough for Jane. She hadn't realized it before now, but he was becoming easier to read.

He sighed. "So you do watch movies. Too much of the Hallmark variety."

"I'm just saying, I think you care about them more than you let on. You don't even delete Thor's texts, do you?"

"I don't like to waste time," he answered. Jane took that as a no.

"Well, have you ever answered him?"

"When the mood strikes me."

"And when did that last happen?"

He didn't say anything.

After letting the moment pass, Jane didn't know if she should continue down this line or change the subject. The latter would be safer, but more questions poked at her. They were becoming impossible to ignore. So she didn't ignore them.

"Was it really all because of your father?"

"The acting or the astrophysics?"

"Both," Jane rested her hands on her knees, gripping them tight. "Astrophysics is one of the hardest degree programs out there. Getting my Ph.D. was three years of instant ramen noodles and four hours of sleep per night if I was lucky. Becoming a successful actor is even harder. You're telling me you did all of that just to piss off your dad."

"It wasn't the only reason," Loki snapped. "And I told you, spite is a powerful motivator."

"It wasn't my motivator," Jane replied, sitting up straighter. "When I became an astrophysicist, it was because I love the stars. They're a part of who I am. So I guess I don't believe you'd go to all that trouble just to hurt someone. I can't believe that."

"It is easier to comprehend than you give credit for."

"Maybe," Jane said, "but when you say you respect my work, and Erik's work, and that you agreed to do this movie because you believe my story should be told, I believe you're telling the truth."

His gaze was so intense, even now in this dirt-stained pantry surrounded by food. Big band music filtered from the restaurant and cars whizzed past outside the door. Nothing about it screamed 'dramatic apology' scene as far as Jane could tell, but real life tends to write itself, and it doesn't care about cliches.

"I'm sorry for what I said before." Jane met him with an intensity all her own. "I was angry and I took it out on you. That wasn't fair."

"It's understandable," he said.

"No, it's not. You didn't change the script."

Loki hummed, uncrossing his legs. "My offer still stands. There may be something I can do to fix this."

"I doubt it," Jane mumbled. "I already tried, but that producer is so far up his own ass he's about to come out the other way."

Loki laughed out loud, albeit softly. "That wasn't bad. We may make a screenwriter out of you yet."

"Not fast enough to save this movie."

As she spoke, she hoped she didn't sound too bitter. She'd already put her foot in her mouth enough times today and she couldn't shake the feeling he was more upset than he was letting on.

Time passed and Loki's phone came back to life with several text alerts. He didn't answer them, but stood from the crate and walked to the door. "I think it's safe now. You should return to your hotel."

"I need to talk to the producer again tomorrow," Jane said. It was one meeting she would give anything to cancel. As she moved to pass Loki, she stopped short at the exact wrong time. Now her face was full of his shirt and whatever ridiculously expensive and sinfully addictive cologne he'd chosen to wear. She gulped. "Do you really think you can fix this?"

Something danced across his face, all the mysteries Jane had spent far too much time pondering there and gone in an instant. "I will see you at the meeting."

Then he was gone. He stayed just long enough to hold the door open for her and didn't say goodbye as he strolled down the sidewalk. Jane thought about following him. He'd crossed the street in front of a sports bar blaring their names to the tipsy patrons. Slouching down with his neck bent, he blended into the masses, not a powerful celebrity but an average joe not worth a second look.

She could almost hate him for making it look so easy.

Jane stared straight ahead with her hands in her lap and her shoulders back. She hadn't looked at her phone, the clock, or anyone's faces since sitting down in the meeting room. Bodies crowded the space, executives and assistants alike. They talked amongst themselves and their voices were white noise to her.

At least this chair was comfy. All plush with a high back that only squeaked a tiny bit when she leaned back. She glanced at her coffee, untouched since she bought it this morning and cold as ice. Around the table, everyone was on the phone or their tablets. Mr. Branson wrote a few notes in his copy of the script and had refused to look at Jane since she walked in. Bethany Shortman was showing another woman pictures of her kids. The producer was on the phone at the head of the table. Probably planning his next outing to go kick some puppies and take candy from babies.

No one was staring at her. They either didn't know about her wild love affair or they didn't care. Jane didn't care which so long as no one took any pictures.

A little after one, the producer ended the call and brought everyone to attention. "Good afternoon, thank you all for coming. As you know, we're here to discuss changes to the script and also some delays in filming we've been having recently."

'Wonder who's causing those,' Jane thought with a completely straight face.

The producer didn't even look at her. "Well, since Mr. Odinson has yet to arrive, let's begin. Pierre, where are we with securing a location for the observatory scenes?"

As the assistant director prattled on and the producer asked more stupid questions, Jane did her best to listen and not raise her voice over them. The time to speak her mind would come, if not during this meeting then tomorrow on set. Hell, she could go wildly off-topic during her next interview and read the producer the riot act if she really felt like tanking her image. Hell, maybe she'd grab Loki and they could make out on camera.

The topic turned to issues with the caterers. That was when the door opened and Loki stepped inside.

"Ah, nice of you to finally join us," the producer said with slightly more respect in his dry tone than usual.

Loki, cleaned up from yesterday in a fresh suit with his hair tied back, nodded at the producer. "Forgive my tardiness, I had a prior engagement."

"Well, it's good to know where your priorities lie," said the producer. "Now, if you'd like to take a seat-"

"Actually, there was something I wished to say."

He glanced at Jane, who smiled gratefully. He didn't smile back. She had a funny feeling about this.

"Can't it wait?" the producer asked. "This is important."

"I'm afraid it can't. It concerns all of you." He turned to face the gathered crew, commanding their attention like the producer was nothing but air. "First I'd like to thank you all for making this a wonderful experience. I have never enjoyed working on a film so much. You are all incredible."

"That's very sweet," the producer said, checking his watch, "if that's all, I'd really like to finish up. I have another meeting at two."

"That is not all," Loki said, his voice hardening. "For you see, it has come to my attention that certain changes have been made. Changes that may be detrimental to the production as a whole.

The producer rolled his eyes. Mr. Branson stared at his lap. Loki continued.

"It seems to me that the problem started when my character was added to the script. Perhaps it was a snowball effect. One small change led to countless larger ones, until the story we meant to tell morphed into something unrecognizable." Loki lifted his chin, looking over their heads. "I believe in Bridgermaker. I know Dr. Foster's story will make an unforgettable film, but for that to happen, more changes need to be made. Or rather, need to be reversed. That is why, effective immediately, I am officially withdrawing from this project."

Chapter Text

"Effective immediately, I am officially withdrawing from this project."

It was the quietest Jane had ever seen the studio. Fifteen people crammed into a single meeting room, most of them huddled around the table. Folders and laptops and files that served no purpose strewn about. One of the many mounted lamps had been turned toward the door, giving Loki a spotlight for his most dramatic monologue to date.

As the echo of his words faded, Jane found herself just able to squeak her neck around the room. Many jaws had hit the floor. Eyes were popping like corn. Mr. Branson had finally been dragged out of his self-pitying stupor and provided the only sound in the form of a low, drawn-out, 'wha…'

Loki, as one might expect, was unmoved. He gave them time to let it all sink in and entertained himself by acting like a man who had just announced the sky is blue. When Jane tried to catch his eye, he wouldn't look at her. He had to know what she was doing, but nothing phased him now. There was no mask hiding his true feelings. He wore them as plain as his unwavering confidence.

Whispered pricked her ears as the initial shock wore off. Lots of 'What the hells' and 'What is he doings' were thrown around coming from mouths she didn't have time to pick out. If there was one good thing to be said for all this, it was that she'd never seen a look like that on the producer's face.

"Uh…" the producer shook his head, knocking the sand out of his ears and returning to something akin to composure. "I'm sorry, I must have had a stroke there because I thought I just heard you say you're quitting this movie."

"Yes, you did," Loki answered.

"You're quitting."

"Yes."

"You're walking off this movie in the middle of production."

"Oh, are you confused? You could also say I am stepping down from my current position. I have decided to part ways with the company for the sake of all involved parties. We are at a crossroads and I am initiating a parting of ways. I have more if you need it."

Okay, this was the best face the producer had ever made. The greatest hyperrealistic artist in the world couldn't hope to recreate it. In any other circumstances, Jane would be laughing.

Hell, she almost did laugh. That smile should've been way harder to drop.

"You have got to be kidding me!" The producer threw his phone to the ground, cracking the screen. "Do you have any idea how much money we've sunk into this just to pay your salary? And now you're walking away."

"I will be happy to reimburse you for what you've already spent," Loki said. "I am also happy to pay extra to make up for breaking my contract. My lawyer is already in touch with yours and I'm sure we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement."

"Would you stop!" The producer got in his face, making it extremely noticeable that Loki was half a head taller. "Okay, I don't know what kind of primadonna bitch fit you're having, but if you think I'm going to let you walk right out of here in the middle of filming-"

"Well, I suppose I'll have to clean out my trailer before I go."

"Screw your trailer! You are not doing this!"

"I think you'll find you can't stop me," Loki drawled. "The days of actors being bound to studios are long behind us. If I feel I am not the best fit for a role, or that my character doesn't fit the story, I am within my rights to step aside. Or would you like to speak to my lawyer directly?"

"Are you threatening me?" the producer demanded.

"I didn't realize asking a simple question was considered rude. Nevertheless, I will be happy to discuss the finer details with you at a later time, but there is nothing you can do to change my mind. I never should have accepted this role, to begin with. It is not my place to snuff out Dr. Foster's light. She already far outshines me."

Now, finally, he looked at her. Like she was the only person in this room and the only one in the world who mattered. It made Jane's breath catch in her throat. She'd never wanted to kiss him quite so much.

He held her gaze even as the producer ceased sputtering and found his voice again. "I can't believe this. I cannot believe this! You know, we didn't have to hire you. We had our pick of the litter. You think we can't replace you? You're wrong."

"I don't know, Loki is the most bankable star right now," Jane said, smirking as the producer fired her a glare as potent as a wet sock.

When she wasn't cowed, he rounded on Mr. Branson. "Are you going to say anything?"

Mr. Branson twitched. His mouth finally closed and he laced his fingers together on the table. It vaguely resembled someone at ease, but only if you squinted. Fear rose in Jane's stomach that he'd agree with the producer or make an excuse to leave. That he couldn't seem to stop fidgeting didn't help matters. He had adjusted his seat six times in the last twenty seconds.

"I…" he said. His eyes flicked to Jane, seemingly by chance. When he didn't look away, Jane nodded, praying he understood. "I think… Loki might be right."

The producer turned red. "Excuse me?"

Mr. Branson sat up straighter. "I said he's right. He shouldn't be in this movie."

"How can you say that?"

"Because this character shouldn't be in the movie." Mr. Branson stood. "I hate writing him. He serves no purpose. And I didn't sign up to make a cheap direct-to-DVD b-movie, which is exactly what this is going to turn into if you don't stop forcing all these ridiculous changes."

"Oh my God," The producer raked his fingers through his hair. "You're all completely insane. We make a few minor revisions and you want to walk out. You're going to tank this entire production!"

"Maybe we should," Jane burst out. She was standing, and she didn't remember when that happened. Everyone was looking at her and for the first time since yesterday morning, she didn't care.

"You want to cancel this movie?" the producer asked, daring her to respond.

Jane was happy to oblige. "As long as you're in charge, absolutely."

The producer looked around, but everyone was either shying away or forming a wall with Jane and Loki. Even Bethany Shortman had nothing to say. She didn't join them, but sat quietly in her seat, her face blank save for a hint of a smile at Jane.

With no allies, a mess on his head that used to be coiffed hair, and more blood rushing to his brain than there was water in the ocean, the producer stalked up to Jane, who couldn't even pretend to be scared.

"Fine," he said, enunciating the f. "You want it canceled? You got it. We've wasted enough time on you anyway."

The producer marched out the door, slamming it behind him. Those who remained were left to stew in the reality of what had just happened. Jane closed her eyes, not wanting to see everyone else's reactions just yet. In her private world, she let out a breath. One she might've been holding for weeks.

That was it. Bridgemaker was done.

They sat on the curb, having been kicked out of the studio five minutes after the producer left. Now that they had no movie to work on, they were technically trespassing on private property. Or so security said as they were ordered to gather their things and head for the nearest exit.

Jane didn't mind. It was a calm, breezy day out with enough clouds to cover the sun and not a drop of rain in sight. The road was quiet with only a few cars to mar the ambiance. They'd been kicked out of their first spot because it was still too close to the studio. Now they came to rest in front of a shoe store. 'Marty's Shoes' the sign said. It had a dancing cartoon shoe for a logo and Jane actually thought it was kind of cute.

She turned to Loki. He had yet to say a word and seemed to follow her only because he had nowhere else to go. That was silly, of course. He might not have a trailer anymore, but there were plenty of hotels. He could get a room at hers even. The rates were pretty good and room service was delicious.

"Cat got your tongue?" Jane asked.

Loki shrugged. "I don't know what to say."

"That's a first," Jane laughed.

"I thought you would be mad at me."

"For quitting?" she snorted. "Honestly, that might be the nicest thing you've ever done for me."

"The movie was canceled."

"Like I said. The nicest thing you've ever done for me."

Confused was an interesting look on him. Interesting and weirdly endearing. Jane buried the image of it in her brain. She had a feeling she wouldn't see it again for a long time.

After a moment, Loki sighed. "You deserve better than this."

"You don't always get what you deserve," Jane said. "That's life. We're all living it."

"They should give up the rights to your story at least."

"I wouldn't worry about that. I have a good lawyer, too, you know."

They shared a grin and a slightly evil chuckle. "Every day you become more astonishing to me. Have I told you that?"

"No, but it sounds like cheap flattery."

"I never claimed to be a good writer."

"Ah-ha!" Jane pointed at him. "I knew it! You were lying to me that day."

Loki's eyes narrowed. "If you're referring to our argument over the script, you'll recall that I said I have written, not that I am good at it."

"Sure thing," Jane said, patting his arm.

He glanced at the spot she touched long after she'd pulled away. He reached out, then pulled back. As he did, his hand brushed her cheek. "It's not the end, Jane. No matter how dire it seems. There is always another way forward."

"I don't know about that," Jane said. "We really made a mess of things."

"From one perspective, perhaps. From mine, we've set the stage to clean up a bigger mess. Create a story truly worthy of you."

"How are we supposed to do that?"

"Hey, Jane!" A body hit the ground on her other side, squashing her into Loki's lap. "Haven't you ever heard the phrase, 'where there's a will, there's a way?'"

"Darcy!" Jane said, giving her a one-armed hug. "Where have you been?"

"Running me ragged, that's where," said Brock Rumlow, leaning on a lamp post. "This woman has more energy than a jet turbine. She's going to be the death of me."

"Like you don't love it," Darcy preened. She turned back to Jane. "So I heard you told that producer douche where to stick it. Good job. Wish I could've been there."

"It wasn't that impressive," Jane said. "Loki did most of the work."

"Hey, if you hadn't backed him up, you wouldn't have gotten anywhere."

"They might have added that sex scene just to spite you," Rumlow remarked.

"There's no way that would've happened," Jane said.

"You really think they wouldn't?" Loki asked.

Well, he had her there.

"Enough with the studio bullshit. We have important things to discuss," Darcy proclaimed. "Like what we're going to do about the movie."

"There's nothing to do," Jane said. "It's been canceled. We can't just make it ourselves."

"Sure we can! There's an entire industry of movies people make themselves."

"Yeah, but that still requires a crew, a director, tons of money… wait." Jane furrowed her brow. "Darcy, how'd you know about the meeting?"

Darcy blinked. "I asked."

"Asked who?"

Instead of answering, Darcy gestured at something behind Jane. People had been walking by this whole time, mostly ignoring them. The few who did recognize the 'power couple' were scared away by a well-placed glare from Rumlow. Now a shadow fell over them and lingered until Jane had to look.

"Mr. Branson!" She stood to face him and the woman partially hidden behind him. "And Bethany? What are you guys doing here?"

"We've been looking for you," Bethany Shortman said. "Ever since they threw us out. That's the first time anything like that happened to me."

Jane hung her head, cheeks flaring. "Yeah, I'm sorry you got dragged into this. I wish things could've been different."

"Hey, you heard the lady." Mr. Branson gave Darcy a thumbs up. "We can still make this happen. Once we have the rights back, it'll be easy."

"I have plenty of friends who can help us out," Bethany Shortman said. "Cameramen and costume designers and everything."

"I can do the editing!" Darcy cried. "Kind of. Mostly on my phone. I can do the bigger stuff, though. I just need to find some YouTube how-tos."

"I'll handle security," Rumlow said.

"And I'm going to write this script the way it was meant to be written," Mr. Branson said, his hand on Jane's shoulder. "A story of a woman with a passion for science and discovery, a mentor who loves her, and definitely no boyfriend."

Jane grinned, happiness swelling in her chest that could only be sated by throwing her arms around him. Mr. Branson gasped, clearly not expecting such an open show of affection, but hugged her back all the same.

"Thank you," she said. "All of you. Thank you so much."

"Does this mean you'll do it?" Darcy asked.

She leaned in as if to hear better, less obvious than the rest of the group, though not by much.

Jane sighed. "I'd like to, more than anything, but how can we do this with no producer?"

Something buzzed like a bee in her ear. Jane ignored it until she counted all the people waiting for her answer and realized someone was missing. Loki was still on the curb, his long legs bent under his chin at an awkward angle. He hadn't said a word since Mr. Branson arrived. As awful as it was, she'd forgotten for a while that he was here. Now he couldn't be bothered to even lift his head as she knelt over him. At first glance, his scuffed shoes and dirt-coated pant legs were the subjects of his rapt attention. Then Jane saw the phone screen.

A chat log was up. The name on top was short but familiar. The message itself was covered by Loki's thumb. Jane bent over, deciding too late that she shouldn't invade Loki's privacy, no matter what secrets they'd revealed to each other in those strange, intimate moments.

Loki scrolled up. More messages asking about his day, what his weekend plans were, whether or not he was coming to the baby shower. Photos of a blonde man on a beach with a dark-haired woman, or an older couple enjoying dinner on a balcony. Some of them showed two young boys. The bigger one had his arms around the smaller one's shoulder. The text read, 'I found this today. You really haven't grown at all!'

She laughed, then covered her mouth. It was no use, though. He'd already heard it. His eyes moved to the side like a lizard's, no other part of his head moving. Jane sat back down, not knowing what else to do, meeting Loki's gaze with what she hoped was a friendly face. He closed the app. His wallpaper was an aurora borealis.

"I have an idea," he said.

"Yeah?" Jane said.

His phone stayed in his hand, even as his mind traveled elsewhere. He held it like he was scared to let go. As if he would fall from his grasp and he'd lose something he'd never get back. Or maybe he already had.

"I think… we should go to dinner."

The house was bigger than Loki remembered. How strange it was. Weren't things one remembered as larger than life always smaller in reality?

Granted, it had not been so long ago that he was here. Barely two Christmases ago. Back then, the east wing was still under construction. The workers had the week off and wouldn't return until several days after New Years'. Loki was long gone by then, off to shoot another TV miniseries Frigga would watch religiously and Odin would occasionally glance at over the paper.

Now it was complete and blocked the view of the backyard. Loki couldn't see his and Thor's old treehouse. It hadn't been torn down or Thor would have told him. With the birth of Thor's little bundle of joy, renovations would no doubt commence shortly to replace the rotting wood. A new balcony had also been added over Frigga's sitting room. A table and chairs were set up but didn't look like they'd been used recently.

The windows were bright, all lights on in preparation for a hearty meal. Shadows ranged from bulky and inanimate to lively and human. The smell of cooking meat wafted from the kitchen. Loki didn't know what was on the menu tonight, but if he had to guess, there'd be some frikadeller in there. Tonight was, after all, a very special occasion.

He played with his tie. It was set in a perfect knot just like always and felt ridiculously tight like it never had before. His shirt was also tight around the chest. Had it shrunk in the wash? That's what he got for doing his own laundry. Next time he was sending it out.

"You nervous?" Jane asked.

She was absolutely stunning in a knee-length blue cocktail dress with matching high-heeled sandals. She had rebuffed the idea at first and it took several minutes of Darcy and Bethany Shortman's prodding to get her to wear them. Fortunately, in addition to the striking (enough) resemblance, Jane and Bethany also wore the same dress and shoe size. Loki tried to look at her, but couldn't for more than a few seconds at a time, lest his heart beat too fast and send blood to places it absolutely shouldn't be going.

"I am fine," he said, his acting flawless as ever. "It is merely a family dinner. What have I to fear?"

"Well, you are holding my hand pretty tight."

Loki looked down. Their fingers were tangled together.

Yes, he had helped her out of the car, hadn't he? Jane had tried to say no but he insisted. It was the gentlemanly thing to do.

And then, it seemed, he forgot to let go.

His acting needed work.

"Well… you are quite wobbly in those heels," he said. "I wouldn't want you to fall."

"I can walk in heels," Jane said. She stepped on a pebble and swayed. Loki easily held her upright.

"You were saying?"

She scowled and tried to shake him off, but Loki held firm and kept them walking. "Look, it'll be okay. They'll be happy to see you."

"Of course they will," Loki said, almost convincing himself.

The courtyard appeared to have been redecorated. Fresh flowers bloomed and a new arbor had been installed. This one appeared to be steel. Much better than the old cedar one they used to have. It might be nice to take a walk along the path before they went inside. After the long flight over, Jane would surely love the flowers. It might take them hours to see and smell all of them.

They were at the door, which must have happened sometime when he last blinked. The stone porch was solid under feet that were becoming increasingly jelly-like. Jane rang the doorbell before he could think of a reason not to. It echoed through the antechamber, which had been painted a lighter shade of gold. Loki watched through the window, waiting for Sigrid, their trusty housekeeper, to answer the door. She would be in her apron with her white, soundless flats, declaring, 'The old troublemaker is back!'

For once, he might not pretend it didn't make him smile.

A shadow appeared and then a glamorous woman in a forest green velvet gown was at the door. She threw it open. Threw herself at Loki. Hugged him so tight it nearly made him cry.

"My boy," Frigga said, kissing his cheek. "You've gotten so handsome."

"You always say that," Loki said shakily, taking in her curly blonde hair and gracefully wrinkling face, "and you have never been more beautiful."

She chuckled. "Now you know where you get it from… and who is this?"

Frigga eyed Jane with friendly curiosity. Not a hint of suspicion or disdain to be found. Which was exactly what Loki expected. Frigga was a legendarily shrewd businesswoman but she didn't have a mean bone in her body. She couldn't even kill a spider most days. If she did follow the gossip rags, it was only so she could pass the time when she'd finished her latest book. Loki couldn't say for sure that Frigga hadn't seen the headlines, but it wouldn't be the first thing on her mind.

"Mother, allow me to introduce Dr. Jane Foster," he stepped aside so Jane could step forward.

She did so after several moments frozen solid. Like she had been preparing herself for the arduous task of meeting Loki's mother.

"Nice to meet you," Jane said, her hands clasped demurely in front of her. For a moment, Loki thought she might curtsy. "Thank you for inviting me to dinner."

"Think nothing of it," Frigga said, patting her arm. "You are our guest of honor tonight. I've been an admirer of your work for some time now. Please, do come in."

They passed the threshold. Sigrid looked a bit put out that she'd been deprived of her standard greeting. Loki followed them into the living room. This path, at least, would never change. Ornamental vases and scones had been added. A new portrait of Odin and Frigga adorned the drawing room. It was replaced every few years to prove the couple didn't fear aging. Odin's hair had been greying since his mid-thirties. Every successive painting used less and less color.

Another servant, one Loki recognized but couldn't remember the name of, entered with a tray of drinks. Frigga sat gracefully on one of two couches, politely accepting a cup of tea.

"Thank you, Celia," she said. "Do you drink tea, Dr. Foster?"

"Sometimes," Jane said, standing awkwardly for a time before deciding the other couch was safe. "I'm more of a coffee person, though."

"Coffee it is."

The conversation was going well at the outset, but it was on shaky ground. If Loki was nervous (and he wasn't saying he was), Jane was an absolute wreck. She had hidden it well before, but now, as she played with and nearly wore a hole into Bethany Shortman's thousand dollar dress, it was all but painful to watch.

Instantly, Loki had at least ten ways to diffuse the situation and turn their attention to another topic. None of them were needed as heavy footsteps announced a thunderous presence.

"Brother!" Thor made a beeline for him, lifting him a foot off the ground as he played hell upon Loki's spine. "I'm so glad to see you!"

"You never really show it," Loki groaned, worming his way out of Thor's tree-trunk arms.

"Sif will be so glad," Thor said. "She has been quite restless these past few days. The child grows strong. She is missing her figure."

"It will return," Loki said.

"So I have told her." Thor hugged Loki again, thankfully more like a normal person, and went to introduce himself to Jane. "You must be Loki's dear friend, Jane. A pleasure."

He took her hand and kissed it. Jane blushed, but only a little. It still made Loki wish he had a butcher knife.

"Nice to meet you, too," she said. "I've heard a lot about you."

Thor levied a grin at Loki. "Is that so?"

"He told me you're about to be a father. Congratulations."

He nodded but hadn't looked away from Loki. That smile had taken on a particularly annoying edge. That could only mean one of two things. He was drunk or he was about to say something to embarrass Loki.

"Not a day goes by where I don't wait with bated breath to hold my child for the first time," Thor said, clapping Loki's shoulder. "I only hope my dear brother gets to experience the same joy someday."

Option two, then. Wonderful.

He couldn't even say it was both at the same time. If it was, he would've smelled the booze.

"I'm sure the time will come," Jane replied.

Loki didn't think too hard about that one, but he put it away for later. Just a piece of casual small talk for a new acquaintance or…

The maid, Celia, reappeared, drawing their attention with a rap of her knuckles. "Dinner is served."

They made their way to the dining room, all decked out like a Victorian palace. Red painted walls with white pillars. A candelabra burning solely for the effect as electrical lights drowned it out. The table was set for six. Drinks had been poured and the first course was set out. Salad and stuffed mushrooms. They smelled delicious.

Two people were already seated. Sif, who could somehow stand despite the watermelon size of her stomach and offered Loki a friendly hug, and a man hidden behind a newspaper at the end of the table, ignorant of the food and his guests.

Loki sucked in a breath.

"Odin, dear, put that away," Frigga pulled down the paper. "We have guests!"

Odin Borson, the man himself. Captain of industry, master of the universe. The kind of man who was loved and hated in equal measure. For Loki, it could change every other day. What day was today? He didn't know yet. Looking into his father's sole eye, he went back to the first time he learned the truth of his existence. All the horrible things he'd said and all the horrible way Odin replied. They didn't see each other for months after. If his aunt hadn't died so suddenly, it might've been even longer.

Still holding the paper, Odin appraised the pair. Loki stood up straight but tried to make it look casual. He put a hand on the chair, nearly toppling it. After that, he kept his hands in his pockets. Odin's eyes flicked to Jane, who was helping herself to one of the mushrooms. Frigga encouraged her to have as many as she wanted.

"You're all skin and bones, dear," she said, her favorite unoriginal phrase. "Please, have as many as you like."

"Jane," Loki said, nudging her. "I'd like you to meet my father."

Jane looked up, mouth full of mushroom. As soon as she saw the old man semi-glaring at her she swallowed and stood back up.

"Sorry, I'm Jane. It's nice to meet you."

She held out a hand, which was useless because he was six feet away. When she realized it several seconds too late, she coughed and dropped her hand to her side. Odin's expression didn't change.

"You are the doctor, then," he said.

"Yes sir," Jane replied. "Of astrophysics."

"I know."

"Right."

Odin hummed. He placed the newspaper off to the side and steepled his fingers. "Your work is quite impressive, Doctor. I am honored to have you in my home."

She had shrunk back in anticipation of an insult. Startling, she let out a breath and put on a face that didn't hide her relief at all. "Thank you, sir. I'm honored to be here."

With a nod, Odin beckoned over a maid. "Another drink, please."

"Of course, sir."

As she went off, Odin grabbed three mushrooms.

Dinner continued into the second course. Their mini feast sported a roast, several different varieties of sauce and vegetables, and a heaping helping of fresh Frikadeller. Loki might have indulged a bit too heavily in the latter. By the time he was done, he barely had room for dessert. It was a nice call back to a simpler time before his birth was called into doubt and he had no reason to fear he had no place in this perfect family visage.

Going down that line of thought was never a good idea, so instead, Loki got Jane talking about her research. A few simple questions and she was off, rambling for twenty minutes straight about relative physics and time dilation. Fortunately, she was an excellent speaker. Not a dull word passed her lips, and even Odin was riveted.

After dinner, they had drinks in the parlor. Loki nursed a wine he hadn't wanted. It felt foolish to ask for water, so for now he'd just take sips. Thor and Sif sat beside him. Thor had his hands on Sif's stomach, rubbing circles over the growing infant.

"You will be a strong one," he said, giddy like a bubbly child. "Just like your father."

"Or his mother," Sif said. "I did beat you at football last time we played."

"Ah, but I might have let you win."

"But you didn't."

They stared at each other, and as always, Thor looked away first. Loki smirked and patted his shoulder, easing his bruised pride.

"So it goes, dear brother," he said. "You should be grateful. To have such a lovely, intelligent woman decide by some miracle to tolerate you."

"You are right as always. I fear with one more in our home, I may be permanently cowed."

"Well, I would expect no less from my godchild," Loki said.

Thor's face changed, whatever he was going to say dying in his throat as Loki's meaning sunk in. With a grin so hopelessly joyful that not even Loki could resist, Thor hugged him. This time, Loki returned it.

As the evening wore on, Odin retreated to his office, bidding the family goodnight and Jane a fond farewell.

"Lovely to meet you," he said with a slight incline of his head. "Please come back whenever you like."

"Of course," Jane said, sounding less than sure of herself.

When he disappeared around the corner, Loki waited a few minutes for him to reach his office and get settled. Shooting a look at Jane, she shrugged. He nodded back, mouthing words of comfort. Don't worry, he wanted to say. I will make this work. He won't say no to me.

Except he very well might, but why spoil the mood?

"I need to stretch my legs," Loki said, standing in the middle of a conversation about Frigga's new garden. "Please excuse me for a moment."

He climbed the stairs to the second floor. Odin's office was just up ahead. The door was open. He never closed it when he was expecting someone. The maid passed him, having delivered the tea. Inside, Odin was in his armchair with a thick hardcover book. The desk was drowning in papers. Retirement and handing the company over to Thor hadn't slowed him down a bit. He still acted in an advisory position and supervised the occasional board meeting when Frigga wasn't looking.

Once a businessman, always a businessman. Loki just hoped that would hold true tonight.

He knocked on the door.

"Come in," Odin said. Loki stepped inside. When he didn't smell more tea, Odin looked up. He stared silently at Loki, then marked his place and set the book aside. "You wish to speak to me then?"

"I do," Loki said. He sat down, not waiting for an invitation. There were a lot of ways he could segue into this discussion. Perhaps it was best to get right to the point. "Thank you for being so kind to Jane. It's been an… interesting week for both of us."

"So it has," Odin said, crossing one leg over the other. "I heard you quit that movie."

Loki nodded. "It was the right decision."

"Now what will you do?"

He closed his eyes. Now or never. "That's what I wanted to speak to you about."

Now, finally, Odin's face changed. It was only a single eyebrow arch, but for him in 'business' mode, that might as well be a scream.

Loki took out his phone. "I have been thinking about my life, my career, everything I've done up to this point. It feels as though something has been missing. Something I can't go without anymore. There is nothing I have done that I am not proud of. I hope you understand that isn't what I'm saying."

Odin grunted. That meant yes.

"Though this last project failed rather spectacularly, I can never say that I regret being involved. Because I finally understand what you've spent years trying to teach me." Loki handed him the phone, their business proposal up on the screen. "You think I've spent my life hiding behind a mask? Well, I'm ready to remove it."

Odin read through the pages at lightning speed. He'd spent years smothered in paperwork and quarterly reports. Compared to that, this was light Sunday reading. Loki and Jane, with more than a bit of help from Mr. Branson, had prepared these documents entirely for this moment. Hours of tireless work would be torn through in a matter of minutes, and then most likely torn apart. Until then, Loki sat back in an easy chair that was quickly becoming his favorite new addition to the house and waited for the explosion.

"Are you mad?" Odin said, putting down the phone.

"All good businessmen are."

"This is no ordinary business," Odin said. "Failure is not an option, and it is also unavoidable."

"Not completely." Loki straightened his back, refusing to even blink. "I understand the risks, just as you did when you started your company. Far too many let the fear of failure hinder them from achieving their goals. I am not one of them. I never was."

Odin hummed. "No, you aren't."

He hadn't called Loki an idiot and ordered him to leave yet. That was a good sign. The old man was listening, or at least he was still undecided.

"I studied astrophysics and I became an actor and I have spent years wondering if any of the choices I've made have been the right one. Now I have the answer."

"Are you sure it's not just for her?"

Loki closed his eyes. He thought of Jane downstairs with his mother, her eyes glowing in the firelight and her smile enough to stop his heart. When did he ever start thinking in such syrupy romantic terms? She's been a terrible influence on him.

"I am taking two of the things I love most in this world," he said, "and I am creating something that is mine. That's all the reason I need."

Silence and stillness reigned. The clock ticked away ten seconds, then twenty. A crack on the wall that hadn't been fixed took up Loki's attention. Luckily, it was right next to Odin's face and he could be easily mistaken for looking him in the eye. Odin's fingers were laced like they'd been carved out of marble. Only the occasional expansion of his chest suggested life. Loki couldn't say his own heart ever beat so strongly.

Slowly, Odin shook his head. His frown was as intense as if the concept of smiling was completely alien to him. The gold-plated patch over his eye reflected Loki's poker face back at him. At least that hadn't softened.

As he went over all their backup plans in case he got thrown out, Odin pushed out his chair and opened his desk drawer. "I've known you to be many things, Loki, but one thing you are not is impulsive. You always see things through, no matter how reckless or stupid they might be. And this is very reckless and very stupid." Out came his checkbook. He scribbled on the first page, ripped it out, and handed it to Loki. "My investment. And not a cent more."

Loki read the number, counting the zeros as his heart soared. With trembling fingers, he folded the check into less than perfect quarters. He pushed it all the way down to the bottom of his pocket after making sure there were no holes.

"Thank you, Father," he said, not trusting himself to say more.

Odin didn't smile. Didn't acknowledge his gratitude with more than a nod. He never did when Loki was a boy, and he was starting to understand this was just how Odin showed his feelings. The love in his heart expressed in subtle ways that many wouldn't notice if they weren't looking closely. The old man really was his father.

"Do not let me down, son," he said.

Loki stood to go. "I won't."

Odin nodded again, turning his chair around to face the window as Loki left the room. Before the door closed behind him, Loki heard a few final words.

"You won't."

The garden was huge, bursting with flowers Jane couldn't name in full bloom. The smell was enrapturing without being overbearing. The bushes and grass were splashed with every color of the rainbow. Lights strung up on the trellis created a golden glow that warmed her skin as the night grew steadily cooler. Jane sat on a stone bench and tugged her red fleece coat over her shoulders. It was the only thing that had come from her own closet and it clashed horribly with Bethany's dress, but it was cozy and familiar and it protected her from the world like nothing else.

Frigga had gone back inside after giving her the grand tour of the courtyard. Cold weather didn't agree with her and she liked to do some sewing before bed every night. Thor and Sif were on an evening stroll around the property. If Jane squinted, she could see them through the trees, holding hands and enjoying the crisp night air together. Such small things Jane had never given much thought to. Now it was all she could think about.

Jane stretched her taut muscles, letting out a long, cleansing breath. Her body felt light like she could fly. Who knew wasting millions of a leading production company's money could be so good for the soul. As Jane snickered at the memory, she almost missed the approaching footsteps down the cobblestone path.

"There you are," Loki said. "I've been looking for you."

"It's a big house," Jane said, scooting over so he could sit. "I was afraid of getting lost."

"It's not that big."

"It is a little bit."

Loki hummed. "Well, my house isn't quite as ostentatious. I prefer quality over quantity."

"I can't wait to see it." Jane realized what she said as Loki's body tensed. The pulse of shock was there and gone. The need to apologize or try to play it off faded as she realized she really had meant it. "So what did your dad say?"

He frowned, and his crestfallen face had Jane ready to sigh and tell him it would be all right even as her own heart cracked open. Then he grinned. "We have his support."

Jane stared at him. "Really?"

"Really."

Her mouth opened, suspended in space until her jaw began to ache. With a strangled sound that was almost a laugh, Jane swatted at him. "You jerk. Why would you trick me like that?"

"Why wouldn't I?" he countered, dodging the blow.

When Jane tried again, he slipped off the bench out of her reach. Her swipe went wide and she pitched forward. Loki caught her instantly. He helped her stand and kept his hands on her arms long after she had found her footing. Jane could've told him that and that she didn't need his help anymore, but once again, she didn't want to.

"Thank you," she said.

"For what?" he asked.

"Everything." She cupped his cheek. "Everything you've done. All the ways you've helped me make my dreams come true. And for just being you."

"That's not a very well-written line," he remarked.

Jane rolled her eyes. He really was incorrigible. She should thank him for that, too. "So, we're in the middle of this garden."

"We are," he said.

"It's a beautiful night, the moon is full, and there's no one else around."

"Just about," Loki pursed his lips.

"So if we kissed now, would that be the most cliche turn this story could take?"

"Oh, absolutely. Terribly overdone and contrived. It wouldn't even make it to screen."

Good enough for Jane.

He tasted like fine wine and candy and happiness. The electrifying thrill of a first kiss left Jane unable to form words more intelligent than that. Pressed against Loki's hard body, she absorbed the smell and the feel of him, wanting to keep it all for herself and never let go. His arms were so strong, his lips and tongue demanding, matching her ferocity with all he had in him.

He lifted her off her feet. Jane clung to him, never once letting their lips separate. All the stars in the sky surrounded them, twinkling overhead, billions of miles away. They shined brighter than any camera lens, the best audience Jane could've asked for. In her head, the climatic music swelled, fading into a credits sequence. If this was where their story ended, it would be a perfect moment to go out on.

Luckily for them, it was just the opening scene.

EIGHTEEN MONTHS LATER

"Live from New York, it's Christine!"

Music played and the audience, both live and pre-recorded, clapped as Christine Everheart, flawless as ever in designer clothes and makeup, took the stage.

"Thank you so much. We have an amazing show for you all tonight. Our first guests are two truly incredible individuals. One's a scientific innovator, the other is an actor who, as it turns out, is pretty multi-talented." She paused for the audience's reaction. "They're here tonight to promote their long-awaited film, Bridgemaker: the Jane Foster Story. Please welcome, Dr. Jane Foster and Loki Odinson!"

Jane and Loki walked on stage from the left. They waved to the audience and didn't stop until they reached Christine. They shook hands, Jane showed off a freshly brushed smile and the next time she gestured to the crowd, her eyes were firmly set on the camera.

"Loki, Jane, thank you both for joining us tonight," Christine said.

"Thank you for having us," said Loki, as a few girls in the audience lost control of themselves and shrieked. "We're excited to be here."

"Very," Jane agreed.

"More than last time?" Christine quipped.

"Oh definitely," Jane said, earning some healthy laughter. "Last time… well, things were already going off the rails. I'm just glad we were able to fix it."

"And in such a bold way, too," Christine said. "Buying out the rights to the film, forming your own production company. Loki, you went from lead actor to producer. How does it feel to be working behind the scenes for a change?"

"It feels wonderful," Loki said, his heart laid bare before the world. "When Jane and I envisioned our company, we knew we wanted to celebrate all the great women and thinkers of the world. That's why Equinox Productions will not stop with Bridgemaker. We already have several new projects in the works, and I am proud to be a part of each and every one of them."

"What about you, Jane," Christine asked, "how do you feel?"

Jane looked at Loki. She wouldn't take his hand, much as the urge struck her. They were technically supposed to be professionals. Private activities notwithstanding. "Like Loki said, it's been wonderful. It wasn't easy, and it wasn't always fun, but we have an amazing cast and crew who put their all into this movie. It's everything I ever could've hoped for and I'm so proud to be a part of it."

Another round of applause. It went on longer than any before, and Christine had to be getting tired of waiting. "Yes. Yes indeed. Early critical reviews have been extremely positive. We had Kevin Branson and Bethany Shortman on the show just last week, and I think it's safe to say you've got the next big summer hit on your hands."

"I don't know, there's a lot of blockbusters coming out this year," Jane said. "We might just lose to some superhero movie."

"You know why they succeed?" Loki said with that same old dangerous smirk of his.

"Partial nudity?"

"Partial nudity."

Now the audience was in stitches. Jane still couldn't hear them over Darcy howling off stage. With Rumlow there to support her, she somehow didn't hit the floor. The bodyguard held her tenderly, just as he had the velvet box in his back pocket when he showed it to Loki and Jane yesterday. Tonight they were having dinner at Darcy's favorite restaurant. It would be the happiest night of both their lives.

"Loki, this show is supposed to be family-friendly," Christine giggled.

Loki brought a hand to his mouth. "Oh, dear. That cuts down my topics of conversation by half."

"Don't pay any attention to him," Jane said, and now she did take his hand.

"You seem to have him well under control," Christine said with a glint in her eye. "You know, there are a lot of rumors floating around about you two."

"Are there?" Loki said.

"Word on the street is you guys have been spotted on some romantic dinner dates and even kissing."

The crowd oohed and aahed. Jane didn't even look at them. "We do have dinner sometimes."

"One needs to eat," Loki said.

"Well, we had one of our correspondents attend an advanced screening of the movie. He loved it. His favorite of the year by far, and he said there's a scene in a park where you can see a rather familiar pair on a picnic date. Any chance we can expect some cameo appearances?"

Jane squeezed Loki's hand. Their eyes were on Christine and the audience, but their minds were in another place. A happy place. Perhaps the place they'd go when the day was done. After they got something to eat, of course.

"Well. Christine, I can tell you this," Jane said, "this is one story with a very happy ending."

THE END