"Take it off, you goober," she says, and Thor snugs her in tight against his side, his arm big and warm around her as they walk.

"No, I will not." He punctuates his declaration with a toss of his head. The ridiculously huge horned helmet he found in Spencer's slips down over his eyes a little, and she bursts out laughing. "What is so amusing, puny mortal? Am I not a strong Viking warrior? We all wear such things, of course—my many foes have trembled in fear before my thin, plastic helm."

"Oh my god."

"Yes, exactly," he says, grinning, and takes a long pull at his super-sized Pepsi. Their pit stop in the food court proved to be eventful—he'd had one of everything from D'Angelos and three teriyaki combos from Umi of Japan. By the time they left, Thor was on his way to becoming internet famous after some teenager uploaded the whole thing to YouTube under the title 'Avengers Food Court Massacre.' She's been expecting a call from Coulson for the last hour about the charges to the SHIELD credit card he gave her for emergencies, but he'll probably wait to call her until she's doing something important. Like putting the kibosh on String Theory or having awesome sex with her Norse god boyfriend.

"All right." Jane slings her arm around the small of his back and pinches his side. "We just need to get Darcy's birthday gift and then we can get the hell out of here."

Thor huffs. "The mall is not as awful as you made it seem, Jane."

"You're only saying that because you didn't spent a good 20% of your adolescence following people you thought were your friends around Claire's." She can sketch the entire store layout with her eyes closed, right down to what goes on the clearance kiosks in the back by the headbands and where her friends will ditch her—by the random wall decorations.

"Darcy has told me she covets something called a Thrusting Rabbit and it cannot be found at the mall," Thor says, frowning down at her. The plastic helmet slips down a bit more and he reaches up to adjust it. Around them, people stop to stare or snap pictures, which means she can probably expect to find herself on the cover of next week's US Weekly.

Jane rolls her eyes. "She's getting a Forever21 gift card, and if she doesn't like it? Tough."

"What is a Thrusting Rabbit?"

"I'll explain it to you later." Or show him. She has four. Someday she's going to write a memoir and Chapter 14 will be called I Met a God Over A Long Weekend and This Is How I Survived The Subsequent 2-Year Dry Spell. "Forever21 is on the other side of the mall. Let's get in and get out as fast as we can. If we can spend less than five minutes in there, I'll even spring for froyo."

He perks up. "From Zinga?"

"You only like it there because they don't charge you for toppings."

"They are generous indeed," he agrees, smug.

They went to Zinga last week and Thor claimed two store records—most expensive purchase by weight and most graham cracker cookie crumbles to ever be dispensed and eaten in a single go. The manager even gave him a little ribbon, which is currently taped to the mirror in the bathroom.

"That will be Darcy taken care of," Thor says, smiling and bowing to a little girl in a Hulk tee-shirt who stops to stare. "And what of you?"

"What of me what?"

"What do you desire for your birthday?"

It's only by the grace of the god whose dick she sucked this morning that she manages to not clap her hands over her mouth and squeal into them, because, how can he even be real? Jane remembers the Thor she first met-slash-hit with her van: he'd been like an arrogant German shepherd, all gloss and swagger with just a hint of danger lurking beneath that shiny exterior. Her birthday wish list would've been the last thing on his mind had he remained that man.

He stares at her, waiting, and she rolls her eyes and presses against him. "Thor, you decided to stay with me. I'm set for the next 70 birthdays."

"And after that?"

"And after that it won't matter, because I'll be dead."

He chuckles like she's a five-year old who's said something particularly adorable. "So you say."

"I'm… not sure how to respond to that," Jane sighs.

They pass a pet store that she needs to drag him away from, swearing up and down that all pet stores sell regular-sized dogs and cats, and no, the one in Puente Antiguo wasn't an anomaly, and no, seriously, there is no pit bull on this planet that you can harness and ride like a horse.

Thor sulks his way past Wet Seal and Brookstone, muttering something about cats the size of bison, and doesn't even stop when she pauses to look at the display window of Bose because he can be a bit of a drama queen.

She really should follow him. He's going to get himself in so much trouble if he goes into Forever21 alone, but the latest in the Bose Acoustic Wave series is so, so pretty. It has an iPod dock and three HDMI outlets.

"Jane?"

She freezes.

"Jane Foster, is that you?"

Time hasn't dulled the way he says her name, smooth and sweet with a hint of smoke, like she's the first patient at the beginning of his shift and he's glad to see her. In the beginning, when she was compiling data or rendering models of the Schwarzschild metric or had cut herself on the metal edges of her latest frankenvention, she used to call him during his breaks just to hear him say her name, back before he became head doctor at UNM and had no time for her phone calls or belief in her work. Before he took his things from the bureau they bought at IKEA and spent hours erecting together and all she could think was that she was making a huge mistake, that no one would tolerate the way she forgets to erase the equations she writes on the shower glass in marker, or allow her to drag them into the desert in the middle of the night just to look at the sky, or ever look at the things she did, the things she discovered, and thought they mattered.

Exhaling, she turns away from the window display and looks up. Donald Blake smiles down at her, still as painfully handsome as he was the day he walked out, saying he'd pick up the rest of his stuff when he found the time.

"Donny," she says. She's proud of the way her voice doesn't shake, but she has no idea what her face is doing.

His smile widens. "Jane. Wow, it's been—it's been what, five years? You look amazing."

She's wearing the shirt that says 'Neil Bohr did it with energy' that never fails to make Darcy crack up, and there's a rip in her jeans. She can't remember if she even brushed her hair this morning.

"I, uh." Brilliant. "Yeah, it's been a… a long time. You haven't changed, though. How's UNM?"

Donny's lips split in a grin. "You're looking at the brand-spanking new Dean of Medicine."

"That's great. Wow. Congratulations." Her skin is going to rip itself off her bones if this goes on for too much longer. Small talk is the worst; she'd rather defend her second thesis again than fill the spaces by talking about the weather or asking after someone's mom. She's never had to do it with an ex, though, and while she can't claim to predict all manner of fluctuation, she's pretty positive this is going to be awful. "Guess all those books on hospital administration weren't just a waste of shipping costs, after all, huh?"

"Yeah, it's been pretty crazy, but… I can't complain. UNM's been the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Ouch.

"How about you?" Donny asks, crossing his arms and leaning against the window. "Still doing the science thing?"

Her college friend Naomi—before getting married and losing touch with her—used to say that communicating was the key to a long-lasting relationship. Tell him what you're up to, Janey. He tells you about his work often enough, right? So Jane would tell him about the cosmic distance ladder while they walked up and down the aisles at Whole Foods. She would try to engage him in discussions about dark matter over eggs and slightly-burnt bacon, and every attempt to show him how unlocking its secrets would change the way they understood the universe would end the same way: "Well, keep at it, Jane. Sounds really interesting."

Not interesting enough to pay attention, apparently.

"It is called Theoretical Astrophysics, and yes, she is still at work on it. In fact, she has proven the Einstein-Rosen Bridge Hypothesis."

Jane closes her eyes and waits for Odin to finally do what he's always wanted to do and strike her down. When it doesn't look like he's going to follow through, she opens her eyes and turns around. Thor squints at Donny, a frown pulling at the corner of his mouth, the plastic Viking helmet utterly ridiculous on his head.

Thanks for nothing, Odin.

"I have returned with Darcy's gift card," Thor announces and jiggles the bright yellow bag in his hand. "I realized I did not have money with which to purchase it, but the manager was very kind and gave it to me for nothing. Is $5000 sufficient for a birthday gift?"

She adds another forty minutes to the phone call with Coulson and pastes on a smile. "It's great, Thor. Thank you."

"Thor?" Donny asks, eyes alight with interest. "You mean—like, the actual Thor? From what happened in New York? And London?"

"Aye," Thor agrees, smiling the way he does before he smashes something in the face with Mjolnir. "Although I cannot confess to knowing you, good sir."

"Thor, this is… this is Donny Blake. He's—"

"Ah. Of course. The shirt."

The shirt? Oh. "Right. The shirt."

"The shirt?" Donny looks lost, eyes darting between them.

Thor positively beams. "When Odin All-Father first sent me to this realm, Jane was kind enough to help me. She clothed me so that I fit in amongst mortals. Your shirt could barely contain me, Donald Blake, MD."

Even though he's being a bit of a brat, she's going to blow Thor's mind tonight for not mentioning the fact that she hit him with her van. Twice. Donny always used to crack women drivers jokes when he was in the passenger seat.

"Right," Donny says slowly. "I meant to pick up the rest of that stuff. Things have just been busy on my end. You know, running a hospital."

"Oh, right. It's all about you," Jane sighs. This is so far from small talk territory that in a second she's going to start looking for a flag to claim this new, frightening land. "It was just a couple of shirts and a pair of jeans. I actually don't have them anymore."

"Did you donate them?"

"They were lost when I fought and slayed The Destroyer before it could raze Puente Antiguo to the ground," Thor says.

Jane watches Donny try and fail to process that before he visibly ignores it was even said. She has those moments too, usually when Darcy quotes something from Family Guy.

"Wow," Donny says, laughing a little. "Moving up in the world, Jane."

She stares. "Excuse me?"

"I just mean—a god. Hard to compete with that."

Good with patients, bad with relationships. That's what she told Thor before she ripped the nametag from the shirt in his hands and crumbled it in her palm, relishing the way the sticky back clung to her skin before she threw it in the waste bin. She'd never been so right in her life up to that point—the rightest she's ever been was when she decided to offer the crazy blond guy a ride to his mysterious non-satellite in the desert.

"The thing is, Donny," Jane begins slowly, staring at his perfectly shiny shoes that probably cost a fortune before locking her gaze with his, "Even if he weren't a god—if he were a garbage man, or a grocery store cashier, or even a nurse—" Predictably, Donny flinches at that, because he's never respected nurses as long as she's known him "—you'd still never be able to compete. You're not even in the running."

"Why, because I don't care about space?" Donny asks. "Because I wanted more for you than being a laughingstock in your field?"

In the weeks and months after Donny left for his cushy job in Albuquerque, when she buried her heartbreak in quantum field theory, she used to stare at herself in the mirror every morning and rehearse what she would say to him if she ever ran into him again. The words changed every day, the emotion behind them ranging from weeping doormat to vengeful goddess, but she was never ready to deliver that speech. Because once she did, it would be over for good.

She's ready now.

"I didn't care about you not caring about space, and I certainly didn't care about being a 'laughingstock'. I cared that you didn't care about me."

There's no book that shuts or a door that closes, but she stands taller as the weight of the past dissolves from her shoulders. She takes a peak at Thor, who stares down at her with the most brilliant smile she's ever seen on his face, and she can't help but grin, utterly in love with him, stupid helmet and all.

"Ready to go?" Jane asks. "I promised you Zinga."

"The mall, Zinga—I care not. I would follow you anywhere." Thor says it like it's nothing. Like it's an irrefutable truth. Maybe it is. "Fare thee well, Donald Blake, and thank you."

Donny stirs, mouth moving soundlessly for a moment before it finds a voice. "For what?"

Thor smiles. "For being an utter fool. I will forever be in your debt."

She tries to hold the laughter in, she really does, but it can't be contained. Through embarrassed, joyous giggles, she takes Thor's hand, his fingers huge between her own, and gives Donny what Darcy calls her 'sorry not sorry' shrug. Because she's not sorry, and deep in the star stuff that makes up every single part of her she knows she never will be. "Take care, Donny. Wish you the best, and all that."

Jane doesn't even bother waiting for a reply. She doesn't need one. Thor nods to Donny as they pass head back the way they came, Jane swinging their joined hands between them.

When they reach the parking garage and Jane remote-starts the car, Thor stops just before climbing into the passenger seat.

"A garbage man or a nurse?"

"I don't care what you are, so long as you're you," Jane agrees.

Thor smiles slowly at her from over the roof of the car and she grins back at him before sliding in. Once she forces him to buckle in despite his protests about being confined and indestructible, he reaches over and places a warm hand on her thigh as she backs out of the space, a hand she covers with her own when they're heading toward the exit.

"Do you know what you're getting on your froyo?" She asks. "I was thinking of being healthy for once and going with fruit."

Thor makes a thoughtful sound. "Fruit."

"Yep." She glances over. "Why?"

"Nothing," Thor says, but there's still a faraway, scheming lilt to his words that give her pause.

"Is there something about fruit that I should know about?"

Thor squeezes her hand, gazing out the windshield and into the sunlight, and smiles.

"No. Yes. Not yet, but soon."

.

notes: this story plays with one of my guilty pleasure tropes: awkward run-ins with a character's ex, who sees how happy that character is without them. in my mind, Donald Blake is portrayed by Morris Chestnut, who's a total babe.

this was originally posted to ao3 on 03.10.14 and is completely unbeta'd. if you find any mistakes, don't hesitate to let me know.

update: for those of you asking about the fruit mentioned in this story, i suggest you look up the norse goddess Iðunn and her golden apples.