So sorry for the long delay guys! Hell month just ended and my editor kinda forgot to give this back to me three weeks back- but hey, I still posted on a Monday, right? LOL, anyway. This is a bit crack-ish compared to the other two. I hope my humor doesn't fail me.

Thanks for the reviews, guys! They're much appreciated! :D And thank you to my dear beta, Matsukanishi09 :D

Summary: He couldn't have picked a better time to visit Jane Foster. /crack-ish/

Prompt: Alcohol-Induced

Disclaimer: Not mine, minus the story and the way the characters act.

OoOoO

Loki had always thought of Midgardians as primitive little creatures who were very easy to manipulate when the right strings were pulled.

But he never thought that they can also be…

Barbaric.

At least, this is what he had come to realize when he decided to pay the earthling that enamored his brother's heart a short visit. Never had he thought that he would catch in a rather…unfortunate time.

"HA! Look Eric! Look! The size of this man's horns—OH! Who do you plan to poke with that you big lump of beef? Who? Oh god! Darcy look! Isn't this the worst hat you've ever seen? Isn't it?!" he heard the human continue to shout with glee, watching her as she laughed so hard to the point where she slowly lost her breath, making him want to roll his eyes.

However, he stood completely still, watching the Midgardian with little amusement. He saw two of her companions try to stop her from possibly killing herself with laughter, which he could swear was possible with the state she was in. But he can also see the fear from their eyes as both gave him wary glances from time to time, the other female Midgardian possibly whispering curses on Jane Foster's ear.

Which didn't really help the poor state of the woman. What had they done to her? Had they given her some kind of medical herb that caused her little brain to malfunction? The latter was possible, although he could see that her companions had the same drink as she, so that couldn't be it.

And then it clicked.

The drink.

Was it some sort of ale? Or maybe it was the Midgarian substitute.

His eyes narrowed before slowly approaching the three, making two of them stop from breathing (Jane Foster dimply didn't care, after all). One of them, the old man, shuffled from his seat and slowly stood up, licking his lips in anxiety.

Loki raised a brow. Interesting.

"Sir. I am so sorry if our companion offended you—y-you see, she's drunk and she's not in the right state—"

"Drunk?" he inquired, looking back at Jane Foster, his eyes narrowing. Such little alcohol tolerance this human had; or was it because their ale was much strong?

He took another step forward before the man can manage to utter a reply. He could see that both of Jane Foster's companions were starting to pale, making him smirk.

Fear him, that's right— for he was the almighty Loki, the God of Mischief and the Heir to Jotunheim.

The god whom of which is very curious about the taste of this their Midgardian form of ale.

And the moment he was close enough, he gracefully lifted an arm to grab the glass' handle, his fingers touching the cold tip—

And that was when all seven hells broke loose.

He didn't know how it happened, but the next thing he knew, the woman—Jane Foster—was already on top of him, growling.

Well, this was definitely not what he expected.

He felt her grab his collar and pull him up, seeing her eyes glare daggers at him as she spouted some nonsense about her theories, a man named Coulson, Fury, and stealing—and he was sure there was a tiny bit about Thor somewhere along those lines but he couldn't tell, her words were far too attached and slurred for his hearing.

Even for a god like him.

Providentially, though, even before he could unleash his powers, the two caught her arms and hauled her up, muttering apologies as they tried to keep the insane woman down, both of them looking flustered and anxious.

"She— isn't usually like this." The other woman managed to say, grunting as Jane Foster continued to rage against her grasps.

He said nothing, though; gradually getting up, and looked as if nothing happened as he dusted tiny particles of dirt off his wardrobe, his face a mask of deceit. And that's when he heard the hasty footsteps, the soft whispers and the ring of a bell.

When he looked up, they were gone.

Loki quirked a brow, he still didn't say anything nor did he betray any kind of emotion, though. He slowly turned around and made his way towards one of the high stools of the place and went to sit on it, calling on the man-servant, his hands folded on the table.

"Give me one that they had."

And finally, after he got his drink and having a sip, he smirked. Maybe he understood why Thor had been so infatuated in the first place.

And that was when he decided that he couldn't have picked a better time to visit Jane Foster.

OoOoO

So, this will be the last instalment of M and S. I know it's pretty short but thanks so much for reading, guys!