This is my first posting of fanfiction, although I've been writing fanfiction for ever. This little idea just kept growing in my head, and I had to publish it. Don't hate me for it. I think it explains a lot.
Loki was fairly certain that Darcy Lewis had had too much to drink. The little mortal was entertaining, but now her conversation had segued into incomprehensibility.
"Dry spell – you know." Darcy rolled her eyes. "I can't believe I hafta explain this." She refilled her shot glass. "Ah…grape vodka is the best!"
"I prefer the cherry vodka," Loki stated, raising his own shot glass in a toast. "Tell me of this spell of dehydration. Who has cast it?"
The little mortal laughed until she snorted. "A dry spell, Loki. You know…I'm not getting any action."
He frowned, absently refilling his shot glass. "You desire exercise? What is stopping you?"
"One on one exercise," Darcy tried to clarify. Were her cheeks always that red? Loki raised an eyebrow in question.
"So you desire sparring? Again, what is stopping you?"
The little mortal sighed, and slapped a hand to her forehead. "Apparently, there's more of culture barrier here than Jane led me to believe. Not even Thor would be this dense."
Loki bristled at the mention of his brother. He hated comparisons to Thor! "I assure you, the only barrier we are experiencing is in communication. Say what you mean, plainly."
He watched her duck her head, and the flame color in her cheeks spread. "Discussing this with you is … awkward. Discussing this with anyone would be awkward." She downed her shot, seeking liquid courage. "I'm not getting any boy/girl action, you know?"
She looked up at him hopefully. "Please tell me you understand what I mean. Please don't make me have to explain it."
Loki found himself in the unlikeliest of scenarios as his own cheeks flushed. "I do not require an explanation of your meaning. You are betrothed? I was not aware of this."
Darcy choked and then laughed. "Betrothed? Are you serious? Hell no! Why would you think that?"
The God of Mischief frowned. "If you are not betrothed, why is it that you are seeking boy/girl action?" His thoughts were slow; the vodka must be affecting him. "You have already had boy/girl action?"
"Well duh!" She squinted up at him. "Why is that such a surprise? Don't tell me Asgardians wait until they are betrothed?"
Loki absently poured himself another shot and downed it. "Asgardian men do not. The women do."
Her loud, braying laughter startled him. "Get real, Loki! Unless the men are doing each other, the women indulge in pre-betrothal action too."
He knew that, of course. The swarms of women that had always surrounded his brother weren't there to brush his glorious hair, and none of them had been betrothed to Thor. But he had always clung to his belief that the women were….pure. Silly, really.
"I….of course you are correct." He inclined his head to Darcy. "So….why have you not had boy/girl action?"
"Oh man. I really don't feel comfortable discussing this with you." Darcy covered her face with her hands, and then peeked at him through her fingers. "Why do you even care? A month ago, you were a super-villain about to lay waste to the planet. Now you're chilling out with the Avengers. Bi-polar much?"
Loki tried to puzzle through her meaning, but the bi-polar reference stumped him. "I do not understand what you are trying to say. It took some time for my anger and feelings of betrayal to pass, but they did. And you are avoiding the question, Miss Lewis. Why have you not had action?"
He watched Darcy pour herself another shot. She picked up the shot glass and swirled it in front of her face. She didn't seem to notice that some of the liquid was sloshing out onto the table.
"After meeting all these super heroes, and gods…..regular guys are boring. My expectations are a little unrealistic at this point. I can't even have a conversation with regular guys anymore." She slumped in her seat, peering into her shot glass as if it held all the answers.
Loki felt a pang of sympathy, an emotion previously foreign to him. "Patience, Darcy. All things worth having are worth waiting for."
"What would you know about that?" she asked, voice muffled. "You're a freaking god. What have you ever had to wait for?"
It had to be the vodka. Loki looked down at his hands, long, elegant fingers laced through each other as they rested on the table. "I, too, have suffered a dry spell, Darcy Lewis. All my life."
Darcy's head snapped up. Her mouth was open and her eyes were wide. "What? You're not talking about boy/girl action!"
"I have never trusted anyone enough to be intimate," Loki mused. "Women flocked to my brother, but overlooked me. Even if any had expressed an interest, I knew that they longed for Thor. I did not want to suffer by comparison. I did not want to be a substitution for my brother."
"Loki dude – no way!" Darcy's shot glass slammed down on the table, and vodka splashed all over.
The God of Mischief grimaced. Of all the mortals that he could have confided in, Darcy was probably the poorest choice. She could not hold her tongue. Soon, his "deficiency" would be bandied about the Avengers.
Darcy appeared to be having some type of seizure. She was pounding on the table, and rocking back and forth.
"Do you require medical assistance?" he asked.
She was laughing, he realized as she gasped for breath. "Oh Loki! Poor Loki! No wonder you tried to destroy everything. Being backed up is a bitch."
Loki downed another shot. "I hardly think that had anything to do with my actions."
Darcy reached over and patted his hand. "Okay, sure. Dude – we have got to get you laid. Stress relief does wonders for preventing acts of villainy."
Loki sighed. "It seems that both of our problems can be solved with a simple solution."
She stopped laughing abruptly, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Are you suggesting what I think you are?"
"I am a god. I trust that I will not bore you? And I will gain….stress relief."
Darcy gulped. "Uh…okay?"
"Excellent. I believe we should retire to someplace a bit more private."