What exactly do you do when you meet the man of your dreams only to realise that he's related to your roommate's boyfriend and lives half a world away? Probably the same thing as when you can't stop thinking about the loud girl with blue eyes who buys you tea and makes fun of your name. (Alternate universe, all-mortal)Chapter 1 – Of all the Gin Joints
Oh, you could move in with me, Darcy! I mean, we're such good friends and I have the apartment all to myself. It'll be great, you'll see.
Darcy Lewis snorted to herself, recalling that particular conversation with Jane at the start of the year. At the time her main concern had been the repercussions for her friend (and college researcher) if the administration department found out that she was subletting half her apartment to a student, even if that student was from a completely different department. As it was…
She looked around the crowded bar. She could feel a headache coming on and if one more loser offered to buy her a drink she might have to accept his offer just so she would have something to throw over him for starting at the not-unimpressive protrusions she desperately tried to hide beneath her too-large hoody. The way some of the older guys in here stared at them would make you think she was wearing a bikini for crying out loud.
And to think, she thought with another derisive snort, she had picked this little hole-in-the-wall bar to try and escape the sort of just-post-adolescent male behaviour. She had enough of that to deal with at college surrounded by guys that sort of behaviour was expected from, not middle age greasy bastards who should really make it less obvious that they were married before they started hitting on you. That's right boys, Darcy thought as she glared at one of the more insistent buggers, I have eyes and you have a wedding ring on your left hand. Work it out, genius.
It wasn't that she was feeling particularly antisocial. Hell, she would love some company. It was starting to seem, however, that the kooky Irish pub she had come to had just the same amount of douchebags as the college bars she tried to avoid for that very reason. She wanted someone who talked to her face, not her breasts. And every single loser in this joint seemed to have had a go in the last hour.
Except the dark haired guy in the corner, she noted with interest. She hadn't noticed him before and he could very well have arrived after her as she had been sat at the bar (slowly finishing her one and only pint of the black stuff and taking out her Jane-based frustrations on those damn green pigs on her ridiculously overpriced by oh-so-necessary cell) but he was definitely the only man in the place who was yet to be an asshole to her. Well, expect the bartender, a rather buff blonde that everyone seemed to know as Steve. How he ever became a bar tender in the first place was beyond her, he kinda reminded her of a Boy Scout, very all-American good looks and…
But she was digressing. The man in the corner seemed to be a very different sort of specimen than everyone's-best-friend-Steve. He was dressed a bit more formally than most of the rest of the assembled customers, black dress pants, a blue dress shirt and shiny black leather shoes that probably cost more than Darcy's whole wardrobe put together. But he had slung his jacket over the back of the armchair he occupied and his shirt was unbuttoned at his throat. Maybe he had come here from work, she mused.
He was sitting alone below one of the fake wall torches. Darcy refused to call them scones, scone were yummy treats not lights. Or was that sconces? Irrelevant, Darcy, she told herself.
The light of the whatever-they-were-called was clearly insufficient and between its dull glow and the black strands of hair falling into his eyes Darcy had yet to get a good look at the man's face. His body was beyond nice, however. He was sitting down, of course, but she could see that he was having trouble fitting all of his tall frame into the tiny, overstuffed chair. He was thin, not lanky but not built either.
She suddenly felt a slight twinge of guilt at staring at the unsuspecting stranger. After all, hadn't she just been moaning to herself about men doing the same to her? She glanced about to see if Mr Tall-Dark-and-(possibly)-Handsome was with anyone. No one apart from her seemed to acknowledge his presence, however, and there was no other drink on the low table in front of him. He was, in fact, even more antisocial than she had been, reading a leather bound book by the light coming off the torch. He held it in one hand while his other was wrapped around his drink, half balanced on his folded legs. And he was drinking tea… in a pub. How strange.
Darcy shrugged internally, she was the one who had been sitting alone at the bar cackling to herself. She might even have threatened one guy with painful dismemberment when he had refused to leave her alone. It would be nice to have a conversation, she thought, with someone who hadn't yet destroyed forever any indication that he was, or ever could be, a gentleman. Cause there are so many of those in this town, she thought bitterly. In fact, she thought as she waved over Steve-the-Scout-boy-bar-tender and ordered another two of whatever sort of tea Mr Dark-and-Quiet was drinking, she had yet to meet one.
She took the pot and a new mug for herself before she walked over and (not) gracefully plopped down into the armchair opposite Dark-Haired-Loner.
Her first thought was simply, wow.
Then her brain caught up with her eyes.
He had an interesting face. Not classically handsome by any stretch of the imagination. His lips were a little too thin and too pale… Hell, his whole complexion was too pale, especially in the orange light of the weird torchy-thing. Then again it probably didn't make her look so hot either. Anyway…
His nose was slightly crooked, as if it had been broken and healed a long time ago but she found it softened the otherwise quite sharp lines of his face. She looked again and found that maybe the sharp lines weren't such a bad thing, they seemed to suit him somehow. Maybe because he was so tall?
His jaw was angular and his chin narrow and it drew her attention down to the base of his throat. Whatever the reason he had left those few buttons out, she was inordinately thankful. The small dip was weirdly appealing to her. His skin was like smooth, white marble.
But it was hiseyes that caught the attention of her own.
They were ridiculously green, Darcy thought. Like, beyond green. Emerald? Forest green? It didn't matter, they were…
When she sat down he had looked up with such a startled expression that, in her quest to end her boredom with someone who hadn't yet proven themselves to be a complete douchebag and after allowing herself at least five seconds to check out Mr-Tall-Dark-and-definitely-(handsome wasn't the right word, it didn't suit him)-Attractive, Darcy realised that she never considered the idea that he might not want to be disturbed.
'I, uh, thought you might like more tea?' She knew it sounded more like a question. The only response she got was a partially raised eyebrow and questioning look. 'So, I brought tea,' she tried again, 'I mean, I assume that's what you're drinking. Although I wouldn't be opposed to an injection of something a bit stronger. Not that I'm an alcoholic… there's nothing wrong with that if you are, I'm just…' She sighed, take three. 'Hi,' she offered, setting the pot of tea down on the low table between them and sticking out her now free hand, 'I'm Darcy. And I will take absolutely no offense if you tell me to take my tea and "sod off".' She knew her attempt at the British accent was horrible but what made it even worse was when he opened his mouth to reply and she realised…
'Oh, so you do speak the Queen's English. You talk so quickly that I wasn't sure exactly what language you were attempting.'
Damn, he was British.
That smirk, though, she thought, watching as one side of his not-so-thin looking lips curved up and his eyes narrowed just slightly. Damn, that smirk was all sorts of mischievous and (dare she even think it) sexy.
She smiled sheepishly, aware that he was mocking her but that some form of response was probably appropriate. After all, he had made a good point. 'Yeah, sorry about that, you know the bit of your brain that allows you to process thoughts before you speak? I think mine was either defective from birth or maybe just completely absent. And that was a case in point. You still haven't told me your name, you know.'
His smile widened and there was more than a hint of mischief behind it. 'Oh, have I not?'
Dammit, he was going to make her ask, and then she was going to sound no better than those sleezeballs who kept trying to start conversations with her at the bar. Except that she wasn't staring at his chest. Though now she thought about it he had a really nice jaw…
He wanted her to ask, so she let it slide. 'So, tea?'
'Yes, thank you.' She lifted the teapot and he extended his mug to her. 'So, Darcy, do you often approach strange men in bars with pots of tea?'
That strange, half-mocking tone was still present in his voice but it didn't put her off. Quite the opposite, it made Darcy want to sass back, just to see his reaction. 'No, just the dark-haired British ones reading… Myths and Legends of Northern and Central Europe? You brought that to a bar?'
She was still staring at the spine in mystification when he laughed. The sound was not altogether unpleasant. 'I thought it would be better than sitting in my brother's apartment reading it alone. Besides, he didn't have any tea, the heathen.'
Speaking of tea, Darcy remembered her own mug and took a sip. 'Dude,' she said nearly spitting it back out, 'that is vile.'
'That,' her newly acquired companion informed her, 'is Earl Grey.' She didn't care if it was King Grey and when she told him so he had the audacity to chuckle. 'More for me, then. Unless I should be concerned that you spiked it with some dangerous substance between the bar and the table. But at least I would die with a good book in one hand and decent tea in the other.'
It was Darcy's turn to laugh. 'So what brings you out in search of "decent tea", then?'
His brow furrowed slightly and only for a moment. 'My brother invited me over on holiday to meet his girlfriend. I arrived this afternoon to find out that he was staying at said girlfriend's tonight. I suppose I can't blame him but a little warning might have been nice. I didn't plan on spending the first night of my holidays reading alone in his flat.'
'So you decided to spend it reading alone in a bar?' She asked with a clear tone of dude-who-are-you.
His lips twitched as he smirked. 'No, I thought I would wait to see how long it would take before the pretty American at the bar would get bored with the attentions of the other customers.'
She smirked right back, 'I'm not sure, but Steve seems to be a decent guy, you could probably just ask him.'
The skin around his eyes crinkled just slightly when he smiled. Laugh lines, she remembered her grandmother calling them.
'So, what brings you out to this fine establishment, Miss Darcy?'
For a moment she wondered if he got a kick out of mocking the origin of her name. She almost wanted to ask him to start calling her Georgiana but refrained. She could have lied about why she left her apartment that evening but, as usual, her brain filter didn't engage in time. In any case, she had never seen the point in lying and she had a distinct feeling that (in the unlikely case that she ever did) this man would somehow be able to tell.
'My roommate's boyfriend is staying over. And, trust me, you do not want to be in the vicinity when it all kicks off. Hopefully they'll have fallen asleep by the time I get home. And not on the couch again, cause that was disturbing last time. I really didn't need to see his hairy ass. Not that it's not nice, he's a fairly good looking guy if you go for the over-muscled body-builder type, but he would do with waxing… Anyway, I guess it would be easier to just lock myself in my room, I even bought noise cancelling headphones but they were crap so I've resorted to making myself scarce for a couple of hours whenever I know he's staying over. It's totally unfair, I moved into that apartment before they started dating and I'm the one who had to leave unless I want to listen to them getting their freak on? Classy, real classy.'
Mr Green-Eyed-Brit was looking at her as if he didn't quite know what to make of her. And for the life of her Darcy didn't know why she kept rambling, she just did. 'So yeah, here I am, sitting in dinky pubs and waiting for random Englishmen to buy disgusting tea for just to gain some human interaction that extends beyond having to try and tune out the grunts from beyond my bedroom wall.' For some reason she felt she had to qualify that statement a little, 'I'm only joking, though, about the waiting for Englishmen thing. It's not like I sit here and wait for men wearing tweed and smelling like Brut to walk through the door. You definitely don't fit either of those categories, by the way. Usually I just sit at the bar and play Angry Birds. I just…' she trailed off a little, 'I dunno, I wanted some company and you seemed like the only guy in here with the potential to hold a conversation with my face and not my chest so...'
Why, oh why did she say that? To his credit, though, English-and-Increasingly-Interesting neither made any sign of disgust nor (more importantly) did his gaze slide away from her eyes.
'And what would you have done had I not been here?' He asked with a roguish grin.
She shrugged, trying to get over the embarrassment of mentioning her rack to the stranger with the killer smile and an apparent weakness for Earl Grey. 'Probably left, wandered the streets for a while before going back to my place.'
'Hopefully to find your roommate and her partner asleep, in her bedroom, I gather?' His smile should be illegal, Darcy thought. She wasn't quite sure if, coupled with his dry wit and slightly mocking tone, she wanted to punch him or…
'Or', her traitorous brain supplied, defiantly 'or'.
His eyes narrowed slightly. 'I don't think I like the idea of you wandering the city on your own at night, though.' He continued, oblivious to her internal musings. 'Especially not just to avoid this infamous boyfriend of your roommate. Does they not care that they're forcing you out of your home?'
She shrugged again, it seemed to be a recurring gesture. 'I'm a big girl. When I first met the "infamous boyfriend" I knocked him out with a taser. Granted, it was before Jane introduced us and there was just this random guy standing in the middle of my kitchen eating chips but still…'
He was laughing openly now and his face was a little speculative. 'Your roommate's name is Jane?'
He chuckled, 'I believe our problems are one in the same, Darcy. This boyfriend, he wouldn't happen to have a ridiculously pompous, over the top, yet highly appropriate name, would he?'
She considered for a second how his lopsided smirk drew attention to the clean lines of his jaw and cheekbones. And then she snapped herself out of it, quickly. 'Let's take this from the top, I'm Darcy, and you are?' Though she had a horrible feeling that she knew the answer.
His smile seemed just a touch less mocking a more genuine as he answered her. 'Pleased to make your acquaintance, Darcy. My name is Loki Odinson.'
So this is my first go at Thor FanFiction. I owe the inspiration for this story to LuvaGoodMrE, her work is amazing. It opened my eyes to the possibility of Darcy/Loki.
Obviously this story is going to be all-human/all-mortal. There will be no world domination or such like, just a look at an alternative turn of events. It is my personal opinion that Loki gets a bad rap in the movies. I know it's a stretch but a girl can dream…
I own nothing but my own ideas. Unfortunately I do not own Loki (sigh).
Reviewers will receive a special preview of next week's chapter. And I do aim for weekly updates and am on track for around ten chapters.
Comments are not necessary but are very much appreciated.
I am also useless with technology so offers of banner-making would also be very welcome, if anyone is interested.