Chapter Summary: Jane and Darcy take Thor to a market, where they learn about an actual Arizona problem.

"This is going to be great."

Jane winced at the sight of the crowds milling among the stalls and shops. Lovely days always meant a market overstuffed with people, locals and tourists alike. "By great do you mean awful?"

"No, I mean great," Darcy said, and adjusted her shoulder bag strap. "The weather's perfect, that guy who sells the awesome scarves is here, you got another grant funded so we're no longer completely destitute and can afford to buy a couple things, and best of all, we have Thor, so we might get through this in under four hours without getting separated."

Thor set his hand at the small of Jane's back. "I'll stay near you so the crowds are not so confining," he said.

It was true that people tended to give Thor a wider-than-usual berth, which Darcy insisted was due to him exuding an alien aura ("I am not gifted with spirit sense," Thor had said with a frown), and Jane put down to him simply being large and intimidating by human standards. Regardless of its source, he had become adept at using his exclusion zone to create a space Jane could move in with relative comfort. Parties and malls were so much more tolerable as a result.

Despite this, Jane had to steel herself as they dove into the market's fray. Even with Thor's presence keeping the stifling press of people at bay, the noise level was immense in the more crowded spots. But Darcy was right: having Thor along improved things immensely. He always stayed within arm's length of Jane, and any time Darcy waded off into the distance she had no trouble finding her way back to them by spotting him (he was almost half a foot taller than anyone else in the crowd).

Jane distracted herself from the crowds by watching Thor move from table to table. He didn't visit all of them, since their various trips to grocery stores and butcher shops meant he was largely familiar with most of the produce and meat available in London, though he did stop to look at anything new or different and ask the vendor about it.

Eyeing a stack of pomegranates suspiciously, he said, "How do you eat these?"

The pale, straw blond, young woman overseeing this side of the broad fruit stand held up one which had been split in half. "You crack it open and these," she said, tapping the seeds.

"One at a time?"

"Or by the handful."

"So you must pick them all out first?"

She nodded. Thor's brow furrowed, and she said, "There's ways to get them out easier. You can roll them around before you cut them, or soak them in water."

"That seems a great deal of work. Is their flavor worth the effort?"

In response she held out a small bowl full of the seeds, and Thor took a few and popped them in his mouth. He blinked in surprise.

"They are quite delicious," he admitted, and turned to Jane. "Shall we buy some? I will see if I can trick these seeds out from their hiding place for us to enjoy with dinner."

Jane couldn't really say no to pomegranate seeds if someone else was harvesting them, so she handed over her money and Thor stowed two in his linen satchel. Darcy drifted back to them, now in possession of a meringue, and they continued.

Their first stop of significant length was the scarf seller. He was a middle-aged Welsh gentleman whose scarves Darcy had been lusting over for at least a year. Now that she had the funds to afford one nothing was going to stop her from making a purchase. He had a broad selection, from hand-knit to painted silk to velvet devoré to pashmina. Some were light, ephemeral things more suited to days like today; others were thick and fluffy, the kind you bought cheap in summer and saved for a few months in the future.

Thor ran his hand over a merino wool, knit scarf in dark gray and purple. "Will you buy one as well?" he asked Jane.

She was watching Darcy compare two pieces, one a silk scarf with a long, winding, floral pattern of reds and blues, the other a lovely pashmina in dusty rose and black. It took her a second to register Thor's question. "What? Oh, no—I have a hundred scarves. I went through a scarf-buying phase. I definitely don't need another."

"No?" Thor said. The tone of his voice caught Jane's attention, and she found him holding a dove gray and green and silk scarf with coppery highlights out at an angle, as if to judge how well it went with her features.

"No," she repeated firmly. The scarf-seller was watching them, having just taken money from Darcy in exchange for the pashmina scarf. Thor sighed and shook his head at the man, and the man gave him an answering shrug.

As they moved on, the scarf seller called after Jane, "I'll be here until four if you change your mind, ma'am."

Thor bobbed his eyebrows at Jane. "A hundred, at least," she said, and didn't look back.

They continued shuffling along with the crowd, stopping here and there to peruse tables covered with all sorts of wares: hand-thrown ceramics, glass bead necklaces, fabric remnant purses. Having spent most of her personal limit, Darcy looked but didn't buy. Jane had offered to get something for Thor, but he'd declined, and was content to examine at things and talk to the vendors about their materials or why they made what they did or where they were from.

The next section of the market was largely centered on food, though unlike the earlier area, which was fresh produce and meat, this was 'prepared' items: breads, jams and preserves, pickled foods, cheeses, dried meats and fruits, street food, and so on. Thor was just as interested in all of these offerings as he'd been with the prepackaged goods in the grocery store, maybe more so since the producers were right there for him to talk to. Of all the things to catch his attention, though, it was the beekeeper's table he stayed at the longest.

She was a middle-aged looking woman, heavy set and dressed in denim pants and a loose, blue, linen shirt. She had long, thick, auburn and white hair pulled back into a tight braid, tawny skin, and black-brown eyes. Her table held a wide array of things: soaps, lip balm, honey combs, whipped honey flavored with cherry or cinnamon or lemon, raw and filtered honey, and body bars. The prices weren't any higher than in a store (in fact the raw honey was a fair bit cheaper), and she offered a few different bundles at a minor discount.

"Hello there," she said as they added themselves to the small huddle of people going over her things. "Out enjoying the lovely day? Found anything fun?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," Darcy said, and tugged one edge of her scarf out for the beekeeper to see.

"Oh, is Bran here today?" She craned her neck, peering down the aisle. "I wonder if I can get Lynne to watch things for me so I can peak at what he's brought..."

"Maybe leave your wallet and just take a set amount of money," Darcy advised. The beekeeper grinned.

"Not a bad idea. I don't need a half-dozen new scarves." Her attention shifted to Thor, who was reading one of the placards describing their farm and its bees with rapt interest. "Do you know much about bees?"

Thor shook his head. "Apart from the ones I've encountered in the wild, no. They are curious animals. You keep them yourself?"

For a moment the woman seemed puzzled, maybe because Thor had called the bees 'animals', but she shook it off in short order. "Yes, we have our own hives. Family-owned farm, me and my sister and our spouses and kids. I'm Vivian," she said, offering her hand, which Thor shook.

"Well met, Vivian. I am Thor."

"And I'm Darcy, and this is Jane," Darcy added, shaking hands with Vivian. Jane reached across a stack of sweet-smelling soap to shake hands as well.

"Well you two are obviously from the States," Vivian said, "or actresses practicing your accents, and if that's the case you're dead on." She considered Thor. "And with a name like that you must be Scandinavian of some sort, right? Iceland? Maybe Norway?" Jane thought there was a glint in Vivian's eyes as she guessed, and again she wondered how fooled anyone really was by Thor wandering around in jeans and button-down shirts.

Darcy said, "Actually he's from Arizona."

Vivian's coy smile gave way to genuine interest. "Arizona? Really?" Thor nodded. Jane thought he tried a little too hard to look sincere, though Vivian didn't seem to notice, or maybe she just didn't care. "You know, I was just reading about their problems with honey."

Somewhat hesitantly, Thor said, "Yes, it has been difficult to find."

"I imagine so. Production down despite the country as a whole being on a rebound, nowhere near as many citrus groves as there used to be, not enough farms that don't use pesticides—and they've had a stretch of wet winters. Plus, now everyone's sending their hives out to pollinate, oh, whatever it is. Some nut or another in California. I've heard you can't find local honey anymore, it's all brought in from other parts of the country."

"And local honey's supposed to help with allergies," Darcy said. Vivian pointed at her.

"Exactly." She shook her head. "A bloody shame, too—Mesquite honey, some of the most interesting honey I've ever tasted. Sometimes I think I should go on a trip to the Americas just to sample all the monoflorals I'll never get here."

Thor's eyes narrowed. "There is a way to have the bees use only one plant when they make honey?" He gave the placard describing the bees a dubious look. "They do not sound as though they would take direction."

Vivian barked a laugh. "They sure don't. It's really more a trick of timing and placement. See, some plants make a lot more nectar than others, so it basically drowns out the rest. Or a plant might be one of the only things blooming at a given time. Long as you collect anything lingering before that production starts, and take the new honey promptly, you can be reasonably certain you'll get a single source. And then of course you can just put your hives smack in the middle of a big farm of one type of plant."

"Ah," Thor said. He actually sounded a little disappointed. "It is a shame you cannot communicate with them, and come to an agreement on what they make."

To Jane's unending relief, Vivian seemed to think Thor was just being funny. "Ha! Wouldn't that be nice? Then I could plant whatever I feel like, and tell the hive, 'No, this dogwood's not for you. Go and collect from the heather, just as we agreed.'"

Thor started to say something, and Jane bumped his knee. He flinched ever-so-slightly. With a sideways glance at Jane, he said, "Perhaps one day you will have a way to do that."

Vivian sighed. "Oh, don't I wish."

"Hey, speaking of things your home state is having trouble with," Darcy said, and picked up a jar of hawthorn honey. "How about we get this and make ourselves some banana honey nut muffins?" She chased her suggestion with an overly innocent look at Thor.

Either playing along or being completely sanguine (and sometimes it was hard to tell with him), Thor said, "Shall we have them with our beef soup at dinner?"

Darcy beamed. "Sure, we can call it the Arizona Special."

Vivian raised her eyebrows at the two of them and turned a confused look on Jane. Jane pulled out some money and assured her, "It's so not worth explaining."

They baked the muffins when they got home, and Thor held to his plans to have them accompany their beef soup dinner. The soup was salty and heavy with burgundy and vegetable flavors, making the muffins a perfect counterpoint, especially when slathered liberally with sweet cream butter. After Darcy had left for the evening, Jane and Thor curled up on the couch with tea (sweetened with more of the honey) and books. Jane didn't make it far into hers; all the walking had tired her out, and soon she'd set it aside in favor of resting her head on Thor's shoulder while he read.

"You still have to help me find something nice for my mom," she reminded him around a yawn.

"That is true. Perhaps we can do that next weekend, at this market or another." He put his book down (one of her mom's, something about the Dead Sea Scrolls), and said, "How long before she returns?"

"Oh, at least another month. Her sabbaticals are always pretty random." Thor made a low sound and breathed against Jane's hair. She tilted her head and peered up at him. "You're not worried about meeting her, are you?"

"Of course not," he said, and it was the most bald-faced lie he'd told her yet.

"Uh-huh." She gave him a brief kiss. "Well, you shouldn't be. You're not actually some bum from Arizona who wrecked their agricultural economy, after all."

"Am I not?"

She patted his arm. "No."

"Do you wish for me to tell your mother the truth, then?"

Jane sighed. She loved her mother, but she wasn't sure they always understood one another. Would she freak out, or would she be fascinated? Would she want nothing to do with Thor, or would she want to pick his brain about all things xenopolitical? Would she think it par for the course that her astrophysicist daughter—who took after her cosmologist husband more than she might always care for—had landed herself an alien boyfriend while researching on the fringes of her field?

"I think you should tell her whatever you're comfortable with," Jane said. "And if that's a story about you inflicting plagues on an unsuspecting Southwestern US state and getting kicked out because you're a nuisance, so be it." She reached up and stroked his chin, running her fingers through his beard. "But if it's how you're an alien from another galaxy whose people have developed point-to-point interstellar travel and built their own world, well, that's okay too."

Thor dipped his head and kissed her palm. "I think I prefer to be myself, rather than a blight on an unsuspecting land, it is true. Though not if it will strain your relationship with your mother."

Jane blew out a breath. "It won't. If anything she might try to make you tell her everything about Asgard's history. As in literally everything. I hope you like dictating."

"You think she will wish to be the first to write a Midgardian historian's perspective on my people?"

Jane grimaced. "Do not suggest that to her, under any circumstances, unless you have someone you can foist her off onto."

Thor rubbed his chin. "Fandral is quite gifted with words, and Volstagg would love to tell his tales to someone who has not heard them. They would not—" He stopped short when Jane prodded him in the stomach. "I shall make no mention of it," he assured her.

She hmph'd against his collarbone. "You can tell me all about it though," she said, and kissed his neck.

"Can I?" He slid an arm around her back and urged her onto his lap, which she was more than happy to comply with. "And where shall I start? There is a great deal to tell."

Jane looped her arms about his neck. "Start with...your people's food."

"Our food?" he asked, sounding amused.

"Yeah. You've been learning all about ours, but I barely saw or had anything when I was on Asgard." She toyed with his hair, and his eyes half-shut. "Tell me about what you farm. How you farm. Who does the farming." She leaned in and murmured close against his ear, "Tell me about alien food."

He didn't get very far with his descriptions. But that was okay; Jane would just ask again in the morning, over coffee and banana honey nut muffins.