A/N: So I recently stumbled across Thor on television. I don't normally watch superhero movies and never paid the series much attention before, so imagine my surprise when I fell head-over-heels in love with the entire thing, and particularly the character of Loki. Good lord, why I am so behind the times in the awesomeness that is Loki? Eh, anyway, my life philosophy is better late than never so...
This is a short little four-chapter story that theoretically takes place between the ending of Thor 1 and the start of The Avengers. It exists purely because of plot bunnies (okay okay, it's actually PWP, I confess), a meandering muse and the fact that Darcy/Loki is so perfect I just couldn't let them slip past without comment :P I have absolutely no idea if anyone out there is still shipping this couple, or if this fandom died years ago and I'm just living in my own little bubble (wouldn't be the first time). But, well, on the off-chance anybody out there will enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it, I'm sharing with the world. Hi, world!
Quick Recap of the ending of Thor 1: Thor destroys the Bifrost, trapping himself in Asgard and Jane in Midgard. Loki falls into the abyss and through a wormhole and begins EvilSchemez™. Darcy rolls her eyes in Puente Antiguo.
Disclaimer: I own nothing and profit from even less.
'Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot. Take thou what course thou wilt.'
Darcy Lewis was chopping carrots in her best friend's kitchen when the God of Mischief materialised in front of her.
She should probably have screamed. She almost did scream. But it had been a trying week, what with all the world-ending and the giant metal monster and god-falling-from-the-sky apocalypse stuff, and honestly she just couldn't muster the energy. For a good long moment she was preoccupied making sure she hadn't sliced her finger off - it would be just like her, for a god to appear and the first thing she needs is a ride to A&E - and by the time she'd confirmed all her precious digits were safe, the opportunity for a dramatic demonstration of feminine terror was kinda lost.
She knew it was Loki, even though she'd never actually met Thor's infamous little brother in the flesh. There had been a (surprisingly accurate, she saw now) picture of him in that book Dr Selvig fished from the library, and Thor had passed on a basic description to Jane, which was repeated back to Darcy during their emergency my-boyfriend-is-an-Asgardian-god girl's night shortly after Thor had flown the coop. Although, looking at him now, Darcy was inclined to think that Jane's effort that night - 'thin, dark, pale and evil-looking' - was doing Loki Odinson a considerable disservice.
Okay, sure, he did have the whole intimidation thing pretty nailed down, what with the leather and the massive glowing sceptre and the way he was staring at her like he wanted to devour her from the ground up. But he was also striking, in a Nordic Metal meets Vengeful God kinda way, and there was something about his mouth that put her instantly in mind of 'fantastic kisser.' Plus his eyes were pretty. Darcy swallowed thickly, alarmed at the direction of her thoughts.
"Well well," he spoke, and his voice was like velvet and honey and sexy times and - "You must be Jane Foster."
Wait, what? Darcy blinked. Her brain scrambled. Several things clicked out of and then back in to place.
He thinks you're Jane. He thinks you're Jane! Say something, stupid!
Darcy supposed it wasn't unreasonable. After all, she was currently standing in Jane's kitchen, chopping vegetables, at - her eyes flicked to the clock on the wall - 8pm on a Tuesday night. It was a perfectly reasonable assumption that she should be Jane Foster. A very logical, rational deduction. She just hadn't expected the God of Lies to be the one making it.
She was startled from her thoughts by said god taking a step toward her. His movements were predatory, graceful and deadly. Darcy was struck by the image of a jaguar stalking its prey, then had to stifle a hysterical giggle at the idea of herself as quivering bunny rabbit.
God, what was wrong with her?
Loki stilled, his head tilting as he took in her odd reaction. Darcy tried to make her facial muscles contort into something less insane.
"Are you in pain?" he queried politely.
Promptly, she stopped doing whatever it was her face was attempting. "Er, no."
"You do not seem afraid," he commented, taking another step towards her.
Darcy wasn't sure what to say to that. She knew she should feel afraid: she was alone with one of the most dangerous beings in the universe, and neither her friend, nor, more usefully, her 'super-strong-with-a-saviour-complex 'guy friend' were anywhere nearby to come to her aid.
But was she afraid? Darcy studied her reaction, and decided that no, she wasn't.
Whatever, it had been a long week.
"Should I be?"
His eyebrows rose at her question, or perhaps the croak in her voice. She sounded like a pack-a-day Vader enthusiast. Not her greatest moment.
"Do you know who I am?" he asked.
Darcy perked up at this, simply because it was a question she felt she could finally answer with confidence. "Sure do! You're Loki. The big bad."
His lips parted - she wasn't staring at his mouth, pinky swear - as if her answer had been unexpected. "The big bad?" he repeated, a trace of amusement to his tone that made Darcy's skin prickle. "Is this the title Midgard has given me?"
"Earth? Pfft, no," she snorted, and Loki's eyes grew wide. "I came up with it myself. After the whole clanking metal robot of doom thing." She folded her arms smugly. "I gotta say I'm pretty proud of it."
There was a long pause. Loki was staring at her like she was an april fool's prank he hadn't quite figured out. Eventually, he gave a small shake of his head. "You are not what I expected, Jane Foster."
Crap. She'd forgotten that minor detail. Darcy opened her mouth, but suddenly Loki was standing a hand's span from her, and the only thing that came out of her was a startled squeak. He was so close she could see deep into his eyes, at the specks of blue hidden amongst the pale green. Not that that was important. Supervillain, Darcy, concentrate!
"So, are you, um, just popping in for a visit?" she asked, in a chirpy voice that made Loki freeze, an inch away from her face. "Catching up with the Midgardian side of the family? Thanksgiving still a thing up there in the, um, sky? I guess you know that Thor isn't - "
At the mention of his brother, Loki's face contorted, and he made a fierce noise in the back of his throat that would have had Darcy jumping backwards, had she not already been pressed against the countertop. Wait, how had that happened? She could have sworn she was on the other side of it five seconds ago.
"No? Okay then. Um, wine?" she seized the bottle from the counter and held it to Loki's face. He drew back just slightly, eyes narrowing as he read the label. "It's nothing fancy," she felt obliged to add, not wanting to get his hopes up. "Intern salary, ya know. Still, better than nothing, right?" She waited for him to reply, but he went back to studying her face, his gaze more contemplative than angry.
"No, thank you."
"Oh. Okay." This had to be the weirdest conversation she had had in… oh, about a week or so. Darcy placed the bottle back down without taking her eyes from Loki. She was strangely transfixed by the play of emotions she could read on his face.
"So tell me," he began, close enough that his breath ghosted her skin as he spoke. He smelt of peppermint and cloves and winter mornings. Not very supervillainy, if you asked her. It was Darcy's considered opinion that, if someone was going to go evil and still stay super hot, they should at least have the decency to develop bad breath or something. It only seemed fair. "Do you pine for him? My brother, who has abandoned you here without a thought? Who has left you to rot on this godforsaken rock while he flaunts his authority and revels in the decadence of Asgard?"
God, she really had to set him straight. "No, well, you see - "
"I could not believe it when I heard," he cut her off, and all at once there was a greater distance between them, as Loki span and paced to the other side of the kitchen. Darcy absolutely was not disappointed that he had moved away from her. "My brother" - he spat the word like a curse, whirling back around to face her - "the great philanderer, the chosen one, beloved by all, throwing away his birthrightfor some pathetic Midgardian mortal. What could have given rise to such a lapse in sanity?"
Darcy was gaping at him. Words floated through her head like large flapping bats, until she finally fixed on one. "Philanderer?" she echoed, offence on Jane's behalf stiffening her spine. God of thunder or not, she was gonna tase Thor's ass if he'd been pillaging the villagers.
A crooked smile curled around Loki's mouth. It was outrageously - don't think sexy, don't think sexy - um, hot? Dammit, Darcy! "Oh, didn't my brother tell you - " again with the scorn. Dude needed to tone it down, or he'd give himself an ulcer - "how he plunders his way through Asgard's court as if the life of Odin Allfather depended on it? How he beds a different woman each night just to brag of his conquests in the morning? How he fucks anything in a skirt that even - "
Darcy couldn't help it. She giggled.
Loki pulled up as if she had slapped him. His mouth opened, then closed again with a snap, and a dangerous look ignited in his eyes. It probably should have sirened a warning to Darcy, but she was too busy losing the plot to notice it.
"I'm sorry," she said, feeling the need to apologise because Loki looked almost scandalised, and she knew she must be doing something wrong if she was embarrassing the God of Mischief himself. "It's just - you said fucked."
His eyes squinted in an adorably bewildered display of confusion. "Is that not the word you Midgardians use to - "
"Yes, I mean, it is," she hastened to explain. "It's just, you're - you know - " she made a sweeping gesture, indicating the leather ensemble and the glowing staff - "You."
"Me?" repeated Loki blankly.
Darcy nodded sagely. "Yeah. Big bad, remember? I mean, you're a God, for god's sake! And you're standing in the kitchen talking about fucking and bedding and - "
All at once, he was back in her personal space. She jumped, then narrowed her eyes. "You have got to stop doing that!"
"You think Gods don't fuck, mortal?" he asked, enunciating the word so heavily that Darcy felt a shiver run all the way down her spine and settle somewhere entirely inappropriate. "You think they don't lust, or desire, or crave?" he brought his mouth so close his lips were practically brushing her jawline. "You think they don't want what is most forbidden?"
She swallowed. Her tongue seemed to have glued itself to the roof of her mouth. With an effort, she unstuck it. "W-well no, of course not. I just - "
"You do not seem overly concerned by Thor's betrayal," he whispered. His mouth travelled up her cheek, just barely touching skin, and she sucked in an involuntary breath. From the spark that flashed in Loki's eyes, she knew he'd caught on to the way her body was reacting to his presence. Goddamn stupid sexy supervillain. "Is it that you are not surprised? That perhaps you know, deep down, he could never stay true to you?" His lips brushed her ear, and Darcy's legs damn near buckled.
"N-no, it's not that," she said, mortifyingly breathless. Her neck tilted of its own accord, and Loki's head dipped, his lips tracing a line to the hollow of her throat. When his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of her bare shoulder, she couldn't help but gasp and arch into his chest.
Loki jerked as if she had electrocuted him. He drew back slightly (Darcy barely managed to suppress whimper at the loss of his touch, pathetic being she was) and stared at her like she was a riddle he'd never encountered before. His gaze roved over her face, eyes widening at whatever he found there.
"You desire me," he said in a low voice. It wasn't a question, and besides, she could hardly deny it, not after the way she had just reacted. Her chest was heaving, she knew her cheeks must be flushed (she really shouldn't have had that third glass of wine) and she had all but thrown herself at him three seconds ago. There seemed little point in lying, especially to the God of Lies himself.
So, she just shrugged and answered, "Yes."
His gaze sparked. Darcy could feel it burning against her skin. A triumphant grin spread across his face and he suddenly looked every inch the trickster god everyone warned about. "Now this is interesting," he said, bringing a finger to run along her cheek. She shivered against his touch, and his grin stretched. "Are all mortals so fickle? Or is it that my brother is not the eternally desired hero he believes himself to be?" There was genuine curiosity in his voice, and beneath that, an edge of something deeper; disbelief, Darcy realised, her brain fogging as he drew closer, his eyes fixed hungrily on her lips. He can't believe I actually want him.
And so, because it had been a long week and she was Darcy Lewis standing in her best friend's house with the supremely attractive God of Mischief eyeing her like she was a morsel he wanted to devour and it had been way too fucking long since anyone had looked at her like that (if, um, ever) and her hormones were spotfiring every time he touched her and her brain was screaming fuck it, let's do this…
Yeah, because of all that, she kissed him.
Okay, so it wasn't her brightest moment. Hello, infinitely powerful probably-immortal dude who could snap her like a twig! But Loki didn't react with the anger she'd anticipated. She expected him to push her away, or maybe laugh in her face, since he was surely only playing with her, teasing her to see how desperate he could make her before withdrawing in mocking disgust. But when she closed the miniscule gap that still existed between them, his response was astonishingly eager. His hands lifted to cradle her neck and his lips moved emphatically over hers, and his tongue -
Oh, Christ. Darcy realised she was on her back and there was a mattress beneath her and fuck - she gasped as Loki broke the kiss to loom over her with a grin that was almost feral.
"Well now," he breathed, running his hands down the curves of her body. Darcy watched as her shirt disappeared at his touch as though it were dissolving into thin air. "Let's see what all the fuss is about, shall we?"
And then his lips were everywhere and his hands, and Darcy's mind slipped away, the final thought in her head before it was lost to the image of Loki's face hanging above her like an imprint in the darkness.
Wasn't she supposed to be telling him something?
A/N: If anyone's reading this, please consider leaving me a quick review! I'd love to know if there's still interest in this pairing out there in the multiverse, and whether you enjoyed my interpretation.
Back with the next chapter soon :)