A/N: This is the prologue for a story I've had in my head for several weeks. So far, I've only posted this on my tumblr and nowhere else. I've decided to put it here as well, both as incentive to continue and because I just want more people to read it (hopefully provide some feedback and all). Once I've gotten some more chapters downs, I'll most likely start posting on my other sites as well. I can't say for sure when that will be, though.

Until then, I hope you enjoy!

WARNING: This chapter contains sexual content.

Day 65: Jane Foster

Jane gets a paper cut.

She pauses turning the page of her magazine, and brings her index finger level with her eyes. A neat trail of red blood slides down the pad. She presses her thumb against it.

The wound stings.

She presses harder.

When she's done, her fingers stick together, and she meets slight resistance separating them. Her thumb is stained with blood. She flexes the joints experimentally, lips puckered. Jane kisses the air and sucks in a breath. Then, she's on her feet and off the tall lab chair.

All around her are half finished equations and equipment strewn around haphazardly. The walls are covered in pictures of various constellations she learned about in elementary school. Those not on the wall stick to her shoes when she steps on them. She hasn't cleaned up her lab in a long time. There's no point in trying anymore.

She reaches the sink and runs cool water over her entire hand. She entertains the idea of rubbing soap into the wound. That would hurt like hell.

Jane doesn't do this, but she does marvel at how far gone she already is for the millionth time in what feels like days.

Feels like, because it really should have been days.

It's not, though.

It's just one.

Just one, single, solitary day that's gone by.

Jane snorts and walks back to her seat. She swipes the magazine off the table, throwing it at the opposite wall. She doesn't care, she can't read the damn thing anyway.

SHIELD had been so accommodating when sending her off into thinly veiled hiding. They set her up with colleagues that spoke fluent English, and were fairly close to her in age so they'd have plenty to talk about. Her bed had nicer linens than a five star hotel, and the equipment she'd been given to work with had reduced her to an excited child at Disneyland the first time she saw it.

And yet they still couldn't get her one measly magazine in English. How typical.

The useless ream of paper hits the floor with a satisfying 'flop', and then Jane feels an icy chill run through her. She shivers, more at the temperature drop than low, ominous chuckle that follows.

"That's not polite."

Jane closes her eyes. She doesn't want to look in that mirror on the opposite wall and have to stare at his smarmy face right now. Maybe if she keeps quiet, he'll go away and never come back. Or maybe he'll just talk more.

"Someone's going to have to pick it up."

"No one comes in here but me," she says. "Even if they did, what do I care?"

He tsks. If Jane were two feet taller and a million times stronger, she'd punch his face all the way in and then maybe rip his tongue out for good measure. Let's see him tsk at her then!

"Now, now, Jane Foster, you don't wear apathy well."

She turns around. She was going to eventually, so she might as well get it over with. His bright green eyes stare down at her, a small smile gracing his features. His stance is calm, collected and arrogant. In short, everything Jane expected of him.

Loki was a lot of things, but never a disappointment. Not to her.

Now fully facing him, Jane notices he's in full battle garb. He even has that crazy helmet on. Maybe he's going to fight again, or maybe he's got another trick for her up his sleeve. She'd put neither above him. At least now she has a comeback.

"And you don't wear those antlers well, but it's never stopped you."

His smile vanishes, and Jane smirks, feeling accomplished. Full blown laughter builds, but she doesn't let it out yet. He exhales through his nose, fingers curling into a ball. A long time ago, this used to terrify her. Now, she just wants to laugh harder.

She doesn't feel like alienating him further, though, not this time. He hasn't been around for three 'days' and she doesn't care to be apart from him. That just means she has to face the fact that she actually wants him around. It's a feeling equivalent to getting repeatedly kicked in the gut and winded.

Jane moves away from him, walking briskly to the mini-refrigerator in the corner where her endless supply of bottled water is kept. She pulls out two, opens one and tosses the other over her shoulder. She knows he'll catch it.

"So," she says conversationally, as if this super powered mythical figure and potential world conqueror who once almost destroyed her hometown was just another girlfriend of hers. "What's on the agenda for today? You're all dressed up and ready to go. You must have something big planned."

He doesn't answer.

"Gonna cause some destruction?"

He still doesn't answer.

"You know, burn down all the buildings, slaughter all the innocents, kick all the puppies, anything?"

Nothing.

And now Jane is getting fed up, not to mention confused (definitely not concerned). He's usually way more talkative than this.

She faces him. His eyes are on her, but his mind is elsewhere. He sees something Jane cannot, something invisible and directly in front of her from the looks of it. She really hates when he gets like that, when he closes off completely and never explains himself. He seems to go back and forth between treating Jane like a person, and like she's just a bug he can squash under his foot. Jane's not exactly in the mood for that today.

"Don't tell me you're doing this for me," she says mockingly. If there's one way to get to Loki… "Because I'll be honest with you, you look much better without that helmet on. It's very unflattering."

She blinks her eyes, and he's right in front of her. Jane stares at his armored chest nonchalantly. She wonders when he'll realize the novelty of that trick wore off 'days' ago.

"Do not test me," he growls.

Jane tries to ignore the speeding up of her heartbeat and the building heat in her stomach. Of course he has to use that voice when threatening her. Of course he knows exactly what that husky tone of his does to her every single time. And, of course, this whole miserable situation has turned her into a borderline suicidal masochist who just has to keep pushing him.

"Just admit that you're as bored as I am," she says. "You probably thought about going after your brother and the Avengers today, but then you realized there's no point. There's no point in anything unless we can find a way out of this."

His frown deepens with every word out of her mouth. His eyebrows knit together in a scowl, and his hands ball into fists. Jane could swear his eyes flash red for a second. It excites her about as much as it used to terrify her, and that's a whole other batch of implications she absolutely must avoid dwelling on. She kind of needs what little sanity she has left, thank you very much.

Jane's already seen his Jotunn form twice, which is two more times than Loki would have liked. He still won't explain why he hates his heritage so much. Jane's asked him more times than she can count, and all she gets is silence, or commands to be silent, or screaming and cursing before he disappears to God only knows where for several 'days' at a time. The most she's ever gotten out of him is that the Frost Giants are savage monsters who would rip the flesh from her bones if she gets too close.

She doesn't really get it. He's not all that scary with blue skin and red eyes and no other noticeable changes in appearance. Hell, the blue people in Avatar were creepier looking. If Jane were to fear Loki for anything, it would be the fact that he's a psychotic mass murderer bent on world domination who could tear her head off with his bare hands if he wanted to. That knowledge, like so many other things, had lost it's edge a long time ago. Even when he bares down on her like this, so much bigger than her, eyes speaking of dark intent, Jane can't bring herself to fear him.

She could still fear what emotions he did bring out in her, though.

"You should watch your tongue around me, Mortal," he says with that voice again. Why always that voice? "You might not like the consequences if you don't."

The underlying threat is palpable. There are so many different ways he could carry it out, too. Jane won't pretend not to know what they are. They spill incoherently into her mind all at once. She knows who Loki is and what he is and what he can do. He's been nothing if not eager to show her in the previous 'days.'

Jane smiles innocently, he hates that. She runs a hand across his shoulder and down his chest, he likes that.

She pulls herself closer to him, their faces inches apart. She supports her body with one hand on the table. It doesn't slide away from her as it should. Trust Loki to prepare for this. She doesn't see them leaving this room anytime soon.

"Really?" She blows in his ear. He loves that. "Because I think you're all talk."

He seizes her by the arms, pulls her down roughly, and then his lips are on hers, hard and unforgiving. A moan is caught in Jane's throat, she doubts he'll relinquish her mouth long enough for her to let it out. His large hands are everywhere at once. One minute, he's fondling her breast through her shirt, the next he's running them up and down her legs, coming so close to her core that Jane feels she'll come apart at the seams if he doesn't touch her soon.

He does know how to tease.

His tongue forces it's way in. There is no fight for dominance this time, because it's clear who is in control and that he intends to keep it that way. Jane's own hands move across the metal of his armor. That damnable armor he just had to wear today. His casual (in the loosest possible sense) clothes are much easier to remove. He usually steps in with that fancy magic of his pretty quickly. In fact, he should have by now. Is this what he meant by 'consequences?'

Loki snakes an arm around her thin waist, hoisting her up and on the table. As soon as Jane's back makes contact, she is hit by a blast of ice cold from below. It doesn't take a scientist to figure out that somewhere in the millisecond it took him to do all this, he also magicked her clothes off. Jane rolls her eyes and thinks of commenting on this, but then his tongue is in her mouth and coherent thought is but a distant dream.

He gets up on top of her, never once breaking the kiss. She brings her hands up to his warming face and runs her fingers through his thick hair, down the back of his neck, to the collar of his undershirt and dammit all, why is he still dressed?

He smirks against her lips.

"Frustrated, my dear?"

Jane wants to slap him so badly right now. Instead, she kisses him harder. He groans in response and raises her up a little so her chest is arched into his. He wrenches his lips away and Jane cries out in protest. She stops complaining when he moves down to her neck, and then her breast. As his tongue swirls around her nipple, Jane struggles to come back to herself.

There is a digital clock on the wall marking the time as ten after four in the afternoon. This gives them plenty of time to go about their routine. To make stiff conversation, to try once again to find out what's happened to them and how to stop it, to descend into yet another pointless argument about nothing, to threaten and be threatened with death and injury and a bunch of other nasty things, to fuck each other senseless in bed and on tables and on the floor and in the shower and against the wall and on top of the bathroom sink and in the mess room and in her direct superior's office (boy, was that ever memorable).

Then the next 'day' comes along and, like everything else around them, the cycle repeats anew.

No changes.

No changes.

Jane sometimes wonders what her friends and family would think if they could see her now, naked with her legs spread underneath a psychopathic Norse God.

Her mother wouldn't like it.

Erik wouldn't like it.

Darcy… would congratulate her on getting laid.

Jane can't help giggling. Loki, who has been trailing open mouthed kisses up her neck, bites down hard and makes her gasp. She fists his hair as he licks a hot line back up to her mouth. He re-claims it, pulling her head up slightly with one hand while the other continues to travel.

Her arms are around his waist, and he is still fully dressed.

Bastard.

His lips are relentless, his tongue even more so. She feels deft fingers between her legs, and shamelessly moans into his mouth when they stroke her. She writhes beneath him, knowing that's exactly what he wants.

Loki always gets what he wants from her.

'Remember Jane,' she tells herself when he strokes her again, and then finally, with a wave of his hand, is as naked as she is. 'Three benefits to dealing with Loki Laufeyson. Remember them!'

Benefit number 1: He is, so far, the only other person in the world who knows what's going on.

She feels the muscles in his back, lean, but rock solid. He's shifted positions, so that his erection is pressed firmly against her.

Benefit number 2: As the only other person who knows what's going on, and as a powerful sorcerer with a genius level intellect, he's also the only other person in the world who can help find a way out of this.

He removes his lips from hers again, and Jane immediately attacks his neck, returning the favor with a bite of her own. Loki growls in response, and Jane knows he's going to make her pay for that.

She looks forward to it.

Benefit number 3…

He steadies her hips with his hand, and uses magic to keep the rest of her restrained. Jane finds she can still work her mouth, though, when he thrusts into her and the friction and sheer pleasure of it all makes her scream.

…He's spectacular in bed.